Ficlets
Ficlets
a/n. cleaning some wips and trying to stay in the writing mood.lol.unedited, unbetaed, various pairings. lulzy plots xD
Road trip
Junho, slight Chanho / G, 875~wc, / mmm..fluff?
Junho is taking a trip all by himself.
Junho wants to go away.
Junho wants to go far away all by himself, no phones , no schedules, no questions asked, no answers needed, no one nobody nothing. Just him. Just Junho.
So Junho did, one day. He walked out from a set ( finishing it first of course, he’s a rebel but never ungrateful) and didn’t took the turn home to their villa. Instead, he rented a car, and drove it and drove it and drove it and suddenly he’s passing Seoul’s city limits going god knows where tracing black asphalt of the highway stretching endless before him.
He threw his phone out the window on the outskirts of Chungcheon . He unbuttoned his glittery spiky jacket and took it off, tossing it on the backseat when he reached Daejeon; with one hand on the steering wheel it was quite a trick to so and Junho congratulated himself for pulling such a move with finesse, being his own audience in his one man show.
He stopped for gas when the tank pointed to “E’’ and bought one of those "Korea, Be Inspired " t-shirt on the way with some cheap shades that looked really good on him, thinking about the branded sunglasses he had back at the dorm Junho always knew that it wasn’t the brand that made him look good, it was the other way around. He was making those branded stuff looked good. Junho smirked to the mirror and fished out a couple thousand won to pay for everything.
He blared the radio up and started singing to the music, nodding his head to the beat and doing cutesy hand moves Taecyeon taught him when a girl group song came to play. He sang along to some trot music and somehow it reminded him of Wooyoung although he didn’t really get the connection, but then again he never did understood the way his brain worked.
He made a short visit at a funfair somewhere near Daegu. Bought sodas and cotton candies, ddeokbokki and coffee. LOTS of canned coffees. A habit Nichkhun had rubbed off on him. He played the shooting game and won a panda ( Hello minjunie hyung, Junho waved at it, eyes crinkled to that famous half moon shape ) stuffed doll after his fifth try because he was just persistent to win like that. He tried his luck with the fortuneteller lady and smiled when she told him good things await him in the future. Junho smiled because he knew it’s true, but it won’t be because it’s written in the stars, it’s going to happen because he’s going make it happen. Junho believed his future is in his own hands and he knew he won’t let himself down.
He drove for the rest of the night, chugging down cans of cans of coffee and feeling the caffeine coaxing his nerves and brain to stay awake, the radio still his friend for the journey. When he finally reached Busan, his hands decides to swerved the steering wheel and took the turn heading Ulsan instead. Junho complied, after all what better time to have some spontaneity in his life than now, no schedule restrictions, no manager hyung to scold him, no one nobody nothing. Junho smiled on his newly found freedom.
It was almost dawn when he turned the engine off, the faint orange streak already threatening to break it’s way off of the placid horizon. Junho stepped out and took a deep breath. He always loved the sea ( even though the salty wind always messes with his hair and it gets all sticky to the touch) . The smell of it, the sand , the sound of the waves caressing the shore pledging it’s faithfulness throughout the years . Junho chuckled, never thought of himself as a sappy romantic, well maybe just a little bit. He sat himself on the front hood and hugged his legs to his chest, his chin resting on his bony knees as he waited for sun.
When sunrise came Junho took the time to appreciate the view, the colors, the life it brings to everything. Suddenly the black sea was blue, the shadowy trees were green and the sand was brownish white. He laid his back on the hood and dozed off for a while , waking up when it’s warmer, brighter and Junho smiled because he remembered something, someone. So he sat up, hands going to the pocket of his jeans before he remembered he had threw his phone away “Tch,“ He clicked his tongue a selca would be nice he thought as he hopped down the hood and into the car. Now he needs to find a pay phone. To call Chansung . To wake him up and get him to come and get him. Junho didn't feel like driving all the way back to Seoul, at least not alone.
He glanced out at the sea for the last time , thinking that he might do this again the next time he wants to go away, far away, no phones , no schedules, no questions asked, no answer needed, no one nobody nothing. Just Junho. And Chansung.
Junho smiled to the thought.
Paper cranes
Nichkhun, slight Khunyoung./ pg-13, 877~wc, / angst.
Nichkhun is teaching Wooyoung to make paper cranes.
Nichkhun runs his palm gently over the square sheet of paper. His finger carefully moves to fold one edge to meet the other. He opens it and repeats the action in the other direction. His tongue pokes out a little like it always does when he's deep in concentration.
"Fold it diagonally, the white side up, then bring the corners together." He narrates. Voice calm and soft between the buzzing shrills of cicadas singing outside.
" Now we make a flap, ...like this. Make sure that the edge is lined up with the center line, ...like this. And we do the same folds to the other edges, and fold the top flap down. Like so."
There's a pot of tea, forgotten, sitting on a round table with white embroidered table cloth on the corner of the room. A plate of homemade cinnamon cookies sits beside the now warm cup of tea, poured about an hour ago.
Nichkhun's voice fills the room as he gives out his instructions. A " fold one flap and lay it flat " was heard pass the photo frames resting on top of the cabinet by the window, one had two boys with arms around each other's shoulder, mud staining their cheek and sunshine beaming in their smiles.
" Invert one of the fold to make the head.." flows pass an old wardrobe. Unchanged since the day the owner of the room left ( and returned but no never really came back) the clothes still neatly folded and tucked based on their colors like nothing happened. The soccer ball sitting on the side, waiting for a good pair of legs, sturdy thighs with feet that dances fast and light on the grassy field to swing and kick it once more. The secret cigarette box securely taped under one of the shelves, from days of adventures and rebellions soaked up in young teenage spirit.
" Pull back the other tip and we have the tail." Nichkhun's gentle voice rises to the single wooden bed, once creaked loudly as they explored and adored one another's curves and bumps , wide eyed and ragged breath, curious trembling fingers over clammy skins.
" We're getting there." Nichkhun laughs softly and it climbs gently on the used up quilt blanket, the colors striking and bold when it was first made years ago. Now it’s faded color is giving its last purpose of warmth in the windy autumn, patiently covers a shoulder, too skinny, too weak.
Nichkhun' s " Okay, now pull the wings apart to form the body", falls on a perfectly smooth square sheet of paper, no folds, no intricate lines nor complicated flaps as it rests lonely under a pale palm, crooked thumb that’s been idle for far too long.
" And now, our crane is complete. " Nichkhun declares joyfully, standing from his seat and making his way towards the bed. A very familiar path that he’s tread for far too many times now. He sits quietly on the side, careful not to hamper the wires and tubes connected to the beeping machines next to the bed.
"This red fellow is our 738th crane , Wooyoung. If we keep this up, we'll reach 1000 before the end of the year." He says again, lifting the paper crane in front of Wooyoung for a good few seconds, just enough for him to observe it, were he awake.
Nichkhun smiles wistfully before bending down and places a soft kiss on Wooyoung's forehead, the smell of antiseptic is strong but Nichkhun can still catches Wooyoung's scent albeit faintly and his smile goes wider.
He ruffles Wooyoung's hair, the jetblack strands still feel as soft and as silky between his fingers as it was before. Wooyoung remains still, not even a twitch when Nichkhun carefully removes the untampered sheet of paper from under his palm, tucking the blanket to Wooyoung's chin as he pulls back. Wooyoung's eyes stays shut. It’s like he’s sleeping and somehow forgot to wake up, as if a spell has been cast and no matter how many times Nichkhun kissed him, the spell refused to be broken.
Something in Nichkhun's eyes dims , his lips presses together "I'm sorry" he wants to say, " I'm so so sorry it's all my fault",but the words got caught in his throat. " I'll be back on Tuesday and we'll make more cranes then, okay.." He reserves instead.
Nichkhun knows he's probably shouldn't feel the way he felt, that he shouldn't humor this idea in his head. It’s a dangerous place to be, the land of 'if onlys'. If only he found Wooyoung faster, if only he saw the signs sooner, if only he was a lot more braver, if only he’d care less about what people think and cared more about what Wooyoung feel, what they feel for each other.
Wooyoung’s mum always said to him ” It’s not your fault, it’s Wooyoung’s doing, it’s his decision, you didn’t do anything” and she's right, Nichkhun thinks as he descends the stair, the smell of freshly baked cookies still winning the air. He didn't do anything. He just stood by and let Wooyoung tried to take his own life, not noticing until everything was too late.
0430
Wooyoung, slight Chanwoo./ pg-13, 1210~wc (okay this should be a oneshot but im too lazy to make a different post so yeah) / AU
Wooyoung is kicking ass.
The droplets of water trickles down the slope of his nose, falling pass lips that purse in concentration. The cold is biting and the tip of his fingers already begins to feel numb. There are dull footsteps coming from his left, too faint to distinguish in the heavy rain, but his keen ears catches them nonetheless. A group of four finally enters the yard , -most likely the preliminary guard, it wouldn't be until another half an hour before the upper’s hands reaches this part of the institute and he isn't planning to stay here that long. He doesn't need to peek from where he’s hiding behind the power generator, Wooyoung only closes his eyes and tilts his head aside, they’re coming closer and it makes it easier to pinpoint their whereabouts . Their breaths, heavy and cautious, he can hear it. Their fear, he can smell them.
The mud seeps through his rain soaked pants, his white shirt stained with blood from the slash he got on his shoulder when he broke out of his chamber. The sting of the wound only adds fuel as he made his escape, running through corridors by corridors, white walls and glass panels.
Lightning strikes and the yard is bright for a second. When the dark returns, Wooyoung already has every man’s position mapped perfectly in his head. He presses himself further back, eyeing the grey cold wall in front of him, a twenty feet tall barrier between him and the outer world, a world he hasn't set foot in for nearly thirteen years since they brought him here . but It was different then. There was father then.
" Check the power generator, see if it’s blown a fuse! And keep your eyes open, it could be anywhere.” One of them shouts, pointing in the direction where he hides.
Wooyoung watches as the man walks closer, calculating everything in his head. He can take them down, but not all at once. Wooyoung’s brows furrows as he adjusts his breathing carefully, decreasing his heart rate with every breath he takes. Inhale slowly. Exhale slower. Hold. it’s going to be tricky, the lack of oxygen will slow him down a bit but they had heat tracking goggles on and the faster his heart beats the more he’ll light up in their censors like those fluorescence lamp in the library where father used to take him to study. Wooyoung feels a lump forming behind his throat. Father..
" Where the hell is reinforcements, what if it shows up? We’re not equipped to handle a class A no matter how inexperienced it is." The one sent to check the power generator hisses to his ear piece, his rifle is trembling in his hand and the cold has nothing to do with it. Wooyoung knows. He’s seen it, that shaking nervous anxious ,afraid, gesture before. He’s seen it on Chansung as he was pushed through the first gates by the younger.
" Go! Now! You need to get away. Father’s gone missing. They’re coming for you next.”
" But Chansung-ah, "
" I'll cover you as long as I can."
" They’ll crush you.” Wooyoung said it out not as a warning but a stated fact as they both knew however trained and talented Chansung was, he’s still no match for the upper’s right hand.
Chansung stared back. Heaving .Trembling. He's afraid. Wooyoung can smell it. Fear. It's black, putrid and suffocating, and it's oozing out of Chansung like a leaked plumb.
" You have to go." Chansung pushed him away, hands lingering longer than it should on Wooyoung’s shoulder, it rose up to brush over Wooyoung’s cheek, only that it didn't. It stopped midway and even through the gap Wooyoung could still remember the heat emanating from Chansung's hand, and then it’s gone. Wooyoung grappled for the younger's fingers between the iron bars but Chansung had closed it back shut. Wooyoung tried to rip the bars open but it’s no use, strength was not his gift. Chansung gaze hardened and Wooyoung felt something snapped inside his chest when he finally understood.
Chansung was going to die for him.
"I know it’s injured, but shit man ..”
The man is now a few feet away from him. Wooyoung assess him thoroughly . Black flak jacket, goggles and rifles. He’s seen them before. Preliminary guards, Wooyoung’s left brows twitches. They're heavily armed because they have nothing. Not senses , not gifts , nothing, and they're slow. Too slow for him, that’s for sure.
Wooyoung takes the wire he snatched from the generator when he sabotaged it and wraps it around his fists, stretching it tight between his hands while staying in the shadow. Closer...closer.. Wooyoung awaits the man, unblinking even through the rain.
It's not just technique. The way Wooyoung bolts forward, keeping his head low as he dashes towards the guard when he was close enough. There was something more about the way he jumps off the muddy ground, his legs propelling him up and somersaulting over the guard’s head while hands swinging swiftly yet precisely, metal wires slung over soft flesh, before it turned and yanked tightly. A distinct crack was heard as Wooyoung lands and the man slumps into the mud with a broken neck behind him. It was not just skills when the second and third guard came running towards him and Wooyoung dodges the first one, snatching his baton, spinning a half circle and swings it to club the second man’s visor dead center, flying the man a few feet back before he hits the ground, motionless. Sure Wooyoung is classified as smart, perceptive and he takes in knowledge like sponge on water, so when he gets into a technical fight with the other one ,it was technique, knuckles flying and blocked, kicks swung and deflected, Wooyoung thrives on close range combat and in matter of seconds his fist lands squarely on the man’s forehead, the speed and impact causing a whiplash that knocks the man down. But what really makes him special ,-and the upper knows this but the fourth guard has forgot to remember as he geared up his rifle and aims at him from the far corner of the yard and Wooyoung stays put, unmoving with eyes trained at him closely , waiting, for the right time to advance-, is that never ever EVER whatever you do, takes your eyes off of Wooyoung even for the shortest time , but the man had Wooyoung on his sniper scope, his finger itching to press the trigger and he felt rather cocky as he made his most terrible mistakes ever,
he blinks.
The next moment his eyelids draws open Wooyoung is already within an arm’s reach, closing the impossible distance between them in split second speed, hurdling the man back against the concrete wall, his body pressing close like a lover yet it is not a kiss that Wooyoung gave before the man slumps to his knee and then on his back to the muddy ground, his hands desperately wrapping around his bleeding neck, gasping as he feels his own life draining away from him in red stream that pools beneath him. Wooyoung hovers above him. Face stoic and eyes cold as he drops a bloody piece of scrap metal on the man's chest, and it was then that the guard remembers something important, albeit too late.
Don't blink, they told him. 0430 is fast.
a/n. cleaning some wips and trying to stay in the writing mood.lol.unedited, unbetaed, various pairings. lulzy plots xD
Road trip
Junho, slight Chanho / G, 875~wc, / mmm..fluff?
Junho is taking a trip all by himself.
Junho wants to go away.
Junho wants to go far away all by himself, no phones , no schedules, no questions asked, no answers needed, no one nobody nothing. Just him. Just Junho.
So Junho did, one day. He walked out from a set ( finishing it first of course, he’s a rebel but never ungrateful) and didn’t took the turn home to their villa. Instead, he rented a car, and drove it and drove it and drove it and suddenly he’s passing Seoul’s city limits going god knows where tracing black asphalt of the highway stretching endless before him.
He threw his phone out the window on the outskirts of Chungcheon . He unbuttoned his glittery spiky jacket and took it off, tossing it on the backseat when he reached Daejeon; with one hand on the steering wheel it was quite a trick to so and Junho congratulated himself for pulling such a move with finesse, being his own audience in his one man show.
He stopped for gas when the tank pointed to “E’’ and bought one of those "Korea, Be Inspired " t-shirt on the way with some cheap shades that looked really good on him, thinking about the branded sunglasses he had back at the dorm Junho always knew that it wasn’t the brand that made him look good, it was the other way around. He was making those branded stuff looked good. Junho smirked to the mirror and fished out a couple thousand won to pay for everything.
He blared the radio up and started singing to the music, nodding his head to the beat and doing cutesy hand moves Taecyeon taught him when a girl group song came to play. He sang along to some trot music and somehow it reminded him of Wooyoung although he didn’t really get the connection, but then again he never did understood the way his brain worked.
He made a short visit at a funfair somewhere near Daegu. Bought sodas and cotton candies, ddeokbokki and coffee. LOTS of canned coffees. A habit Nichkhun had rubbed off on him. He played the shooting game and won a panda ( Hello minjunie hyung, Junho waved at it, eyes crinkled to that famous half moon shape ) stuffed doll after his fifth try because he was just persistent to win like that. He tried his luck with the fortuneteller lady and smiled when she told him good things await him in the future. Junho smiled because he knew it’s true, but it won’t be because it’s written in the stars, it’s going to happen because he’s going make it happen. Junho believed his future is in his own hands and he knew he won’t let himself down.
He drove for the rest of the night, chugging down cans of cans of coffee and feeling the caffeine coaxing his nerves and brain to stay awake, the radio still his friend for the journey. When he finally reached Busan, his hands decides to swerved the steering wheel and took the turn heading Ulsan instead. Junho complied, after all what better time to have some spontaneity in his life than now, no schedule restrictions, no manager hyung to scold him, no one nobody nothing. Junho smiled on his newly found freedom.
It was almost dawn when he turned the engine off, the faint orange streak already threatening to break it’s way off of the placid horizon. Junho stepped out and took a deep breath. He always loved the sea ( even though the salty wind always messes with his hair and it gets all sticky to the touch) . The smell of it, the sand , the sound of the waves caressing the shore pledging it’s faithfulness throughout the years . Junho chuckled, never thought of himself as a sappy romantic, well maybe just a little bit. He sat himself on the front hood and hugged his legs to his chest, his chin resting on his bony knees as he waited for sun.
When sunrise came Junho took the time to appreciate the view, the colors, the life it brings to everything. Suddenly the black sea was blue, the shadowy trees were green and the sand was brownish white. He laid his back on the hood and dozed off for a while , waking up when it’s warmer, brighter and Junho smiled because he remembered something, someone. So he sat up, hands going to the pocket of his jeans before he remembered he had threw his phone away “Tch,“ He clicked his tongue a selca would be nice he thought as he hopped down the hood and into the car. Now he needs to find a pay phone. To call Chansung . To wake him up and get him to come and get him. Junho didn't feel like driving all the way back to Seoul, at least not alone.
He glanced out at the sea for the last time , thinking that he might do this again the next time he wants to go away, far away, no phones , no schedules, no questions asked, no answer needed, no one nobody nothing. Just Junho. And Chansung.
Junho smiled to the thought.
Paper cranes
Nichkhun, slight Khunyoung./ pg-13, 877~wc, / angst.
Nichkhun is teaching Wooyoung to make paper cranes.
Nichkhun runs his palm gently over the square sheet of paper. His finger carefully moves to fold one edge to meet the other. He opens it and repeats the action in the other direction. His tongue pokes out a little like it always does when he's deep in concentration.
"Fold it diagonally, the white side up, then bring the corners together." He narrates. Voice calm and soft between the buzzing shrills of cicadas singing outside.
" Now we make a flap, ...like this. Make sure that the edge is lined up with the center line, ...like this. And we do the same folds to the other edges, and fold the top flap down. Like so."
There's a pot of tea, forgotten, sitting on a round table with white embroidered table cloth on the corner of the room. A plate of homemade cinnamon cookies sits beside the now warm cup of tea, poured about an hour ago.
Nichkhun's voice fills the room as he gives out his instructions. A " fold one flap and lay it flat " was heard pass the photo frames resting on top of the cabinet by the window, one had two boys with arms around each other's shoulder, mud staining their cheek and sunshine beaming in their smiles.
" Invert one of the fold to make the head.." flows pass an old wardrobe. Unchanged since the day the owner of the room left ( and returned but no never really came back) the clothes still neatly folded and tucked based on their colors like nothing happened. The soccer ball sitting on the side, waiting for a good pair of legs, sturdy thighs with feet that dances fast and light on the grassy field to swing and kick it once more. The secret cigarette box securely taped under one of the shelves, from days of adventures and rebellions soaked up in young teenage spirit.
" Pull back the other tip and we have the tail." Nichkhun's gentle voice rises to the single wooden bed, once creaked loudly as they explored and adored one another's curves and bumps , wide eyed and ragged breath, curious trembling fingers over clammy skins.
" We're getting there." Nichkhun laughs softly and it climbs gently on the used up quilt blanket, the colors striking and bold when it was first made years ago. Now it’s faded color is giving its last purpose of warmth in the windy autumn, patiently covers a shoulder, too skinny, too weak.
Nichkhun' s " Okay, now pull the wings apart to form the body", falls on a perfectly smooth square sheet of paper, no folds, no intricate lines nor complicated flaps as it rests lonely under a pale palm, crooked thumb that’s been idle for far too long.
" And now, our crane is complete. " Nichkhun declares joyfully, standing from his seat and making his way towards the bed. A very familiar path that he’s tread for far too many times now. He sits quietly on the side, careful not to hamper the wires and tubes connected to the beeping machines next to the bed.
"This red fellow is our 738th crane , Wooyoung. If we keep this up, we'll reach 1000 before the end of the year." He says again, lifting the paper crane in front of Wooyoung for a good few seconds, just enough for him to observe it, were he awake.
Nichkhun smiles wistfully before bending down and places a soft kiss on Wooyoung's forehead, the smell of antiseptic is strong but Nichkhun can still catches Wooyoung's scent albeit faintly and his smile goes wider.
He ruffles Wooyoung's hair, the jetblack strands still feel as soft and as silky between his fingers as it was before. Wooyoung remains still, not even a twitch when Nichkhun carefully removes the untampered sheet of paper from under his palm, tucking the blanket to Wooyoung's chin as he pulls back. Wooyoung's eyes stays shut. It’s like he’s sleeping and somehow forgot to wake up, as if a spell has been cast and no matter how many times Nichkhun kissed him, the spell refused to be broken.
Something in Nichkhun's eyes dims , his lips presses together "I'm sorry" he wants to say, " I'm so so sorry it's all my fault",but the words got caught in his throat. " I'll be back on Tuesday and we'll make more cranes then, okay.." He reserves instead.
Nichkhun knows he's probably shouldn't feel the way he felt, that he shouldn't humor this idea in his head. It’s a dangerous place to be, the land of 'if onlys'. If only he found Wooyoung faster, if only he saw the signs sooner, if only he was a lot more braver, if only he’d care less about what people think and cared more about what Wooyoung feel, what they feel for each other.
Wooyoung’s mum always said to him ” It’s not your fault, it’s Wooyoung’s doing, it’s his decision, you didn’t do anything” and she's right, Nichkhun thinks as he descends the stair, the smell of freshly baked cookies still winning the air. He didn't do anything. He just stood by and let Wooyoung tried to take his own life, not noticing until everything was too late.
0430
Wooyoung, slight Chanwoo./ pg-13, 1210~wc (okay this should be a oneshot but im too lazy to make a different post so yeah) / AU
Wooyoung is kicking ass.
The droplets of water trickles down the slope of his nose, falling pass lips that purse in concentration. The cold is biting and the tip of his fingers already begins to feel numb. There are dull footsteps coming from his left, too faint to distinguish in the heavy rain, but his keen ears catches them nonetheless. A group of four finally enters the yard , -most likely the preliminary guard, it wouldn't be until another half an hour before the upper’s hands reaches this part of the institute and he isn't planning to stay here that long. He doesn't need to peek from where he’s hiding behind the power generator, Wooyoung only closes his eyes and tilts his head aside, they’re coming closer and it makes it easier to pinpoint their whereabouts . Their breaths, heavy and cautious, he can hear it. Their fear, he can smell them.
The mud seeps through his rain soaked pants, his white shirt stained with blood from the slash he got on his shoulder when he broke out of his chamber. The sting of the wound only adds fuel as he made his escape, running through corridors by corridors, white walls and glass panels.
Lightning strikes and the yard is bright for a second. When the dark returns, Wooyoung already has every man’s position mapped perfectly in his head. He presses himself further back, eyeing the grey cold wall in front of him, a twenty feet tall barrier between him and the outer world, a world he hasn't set foot in for nearly thirteen years since they brought him here . but It was different then. There was father then.
" Check the power generator, see if it’s blown a fuse! And keep your eyes open, it could be anywhere.” One of them shouts, pointing in the direction where he hides.
Wooyoung watches as the man walks closer, calculating everything in his head. He can take them down, but not all at once. Wooyoung’s brows furrows as he adjusts his breathing carefully, decreasing his heart rate with every breath he takes. Inhale slowly. Exhale slower. Hold. it’s going to be tricky, the lack of oxygen will slow him down a bit but they had heat tracking goggles on and the faster his heart beats the more he’ll light up in their censors like those fluorescence lamp in the library where father used to take him to study. Wooyoung feels a lump forming behind his throat. Father..
" Where the hell is reinforcements, what if it shows up? We’re not equipped to handle a class A no matter how inexperienced it is." The one sent to check the power generator hisses to his ear piece, his rifle is trembling in his hand and the cold has nothing to do with it. Wooyoung knows. He’s seen it, that shaking nervous anxious ,afraid, gesture before. He’s seen it on Chansung as he was pushed through the first gates by the younger.
" Go! Now! You need to get away. Father’s gone missing. They’re coming for you next.”
" But Chansung-ah, "
" I'll cover you as long as I can."
" They’ll crush you.” Wooyoung said it out not as a warning but a stated fact as they both knew however trained and talented Chansung was, he’s still no match for the upper’s right hand.
Chansung stared back. Heaving .Trembling. He's afraid. Wooyoung can smell it. Fear. It's black, putrid and suffocating, and it's oozing out of Chansung like a leaked plumb.
" You have to go." Chansung pushed him away, hands lingering longer than it should on Wooyoung’s shoulder, it rose up to brush over Wooyoung’s cheek, only that it didn't. It stopped midway and even through the gap Wooyoung could still remember the heat emanating from Chansung's hand, and then it’s gone. Wooyoung grappled for the younger's fingers between the iron bars but Chansung had closed it back shut. Wooyoung tried to rip the bars open but it’s no use, strength was not his gift. Chansung gaze hardened and Wooyoung felt something snapped inside his chest when he finally understood.
Chansung was going to die for him.
"I know it’s injured, but shit man ..”
The man is now a few feet away from him. Wooyoung assess him thoroughly . Black flak jacket, goggles and rifles. He’s seen them before. Preliminary guards, Wooyoung’s left brows twitches. They're heavily armed because they have nothing. Not senses , not gifts , nothing, and they're slow. Too slow for him, that’s for sure.
Wooyoung takes the wire he snatched from the generator when he sabotaged it and wraps it around his fists, stretching it tight between his hands while staying in the shadow. Closer...closer.. Wooyoung awaits the man, unblinking even through the rain.
It's not just technique. The way Wooyoung bolts forward, keeping his head low as he dashes towards the guard when he was close enough. There was something more about the way he jumps off the muddy ground, his legs propelling him up and somersaulting over the guard’s head while hands swinging swiftly yet precisely, metal wires slung over soft flesh, before it turned and yanked tightly. A distinct crack was heard as Wooyoung lands and the man slumps into the mud with a broken neck behind him. It was not just skills when the second and third guard came running towards him and Wooyoung dodges the first one, snatching his baton, spinning a half circle and swings it to club the second man’s visor dead center, flying the man a few feet back before he hits the ground, motionless. Sure Wooyoung is classified as smart, perceptive and he takes in knowledge like sponge on water, so when he gets into a technical fight with the other one ,it was technique, knuckles flying and blocked, kicks swung and deflected, Wooyoung thrives on close range combat and in matter of seconds his fist lands squarely on the man’s forehead, the speed and impact causing a whiplash that knocks the man down. But what really makes him special ,-and the upper knows this but the fourth guard has forgot to remember as he geared up his rifle and aims at him from the far corner of the yard and Wooyoung stays put, unmoving with eyes trained at him closely , waiting, for the right time to advance-, is that never ever EVER whatever you do, takes your eyes off of Wooyoung even for the shortest time , but the man had Wooyoung on his sniper scope, his finger itching to press the trigger and he felt rather cocky as he made his most terrible mistakes ever,
he blinks.
The next moment his eyelids draws open Wooyoung is already within an arm’s reach, closing the impossible distance between them in split second speed, hurdling the man back against the concrete wall, his body pressing close like a lover yet it is not a kiss that Wooyoung gave before the man slumps to his knee and then on his back to the muddy ground, his hands desperately wrapping around his bleeding neck, gasping as he feels his own life draining away from him in red stream that pools beneath him. Wooyoung hovers above him. Face stoic and eyes cold as he drops a bloody piece of scrap metal on the man's chest, and it was then that the guard remembers something important, albeit too late.
Don't blink, they told him. 0430 is fast.