o9. Formatia Trans Sicere Educatorum
Title: Formatia Trans Sicere Educatorum
Character(s): Kyuhyun
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 7800
Summary: Ninth installment. Kyuhyun attempts to escape the past, but finds that it is coded into his system.
References: Story Archive
Shout-outs: This installment was finally completed for jaded_skys ♥ Enjoy Korea~ And another huge thanks to meitachi for her help!
The first thing Kyuhyun is aware of is warmth hitting him full on the face. He cracks his eyes open, just a sliver, and flinches from the sudden stabs of sunlight. His room is never this bright in the morning. Did he leave the blinds open? Concern rises up from the back of his mind, a vague feeling of 'something's not right,' but the anxiety is dulled by a sense of familiarity with his surroundings. Kyuhyun turns his face into a pillow that is unmistakably his, soft and cool against his cheek, and the worry fades. He can't recall what day of the week it is off the top of his head - maybe it's a Saturday or Sunday, which is why his alarm didn't go off. Either that or he's missed his eight A.M. He's been skipping a lot lately, what with Sungmin staying over more and more frequently. He should probably have a talk with him about that, though the thought makes him extremely reluctant...
Wait.
They've already had that talk.
Kyuhyun finds himself blinking up at the ceiling, which is in remarkably better condition than it should be, lacking the stains and signs of wear that are typically found throughout his apartment. The layout of the room isn't right with the window facing the wrong direction, his bed on the wrong side, and it's actually not his apartment room at all. Most of his stuff is here- And then he remembers: this is his dorm room at Gaiten University, about four hours from the City by bus.
What a miserable ride that had been, with Ryeowook in an unusual (but not unwarranted) black mood since Yesung had failed to make the departure time. He had refused to talk about it, staring out the window as if expecting his partner to appear by the side of the road. Eventually, he'd nodded off into a restless slumber, head pillowed on Kyuhyun's shoulder. Try as he might, Kyuhyun had not managed to follow his example. Too busy feeling guilty, too busy feeling angry, and nothing to distract him from feeling sorry for himself.
He hadn't welcomed the sight of the new college, even as it was illuminated by the light of dawn. 'Formatia Trans Sicere Educatorum' was wrought into the iron gates that had opened without a sound. The rest of that day he can't clearly recall, but on the second morning Yesung had arrived, safe and mostly unharmed. Things brightened after that.
Kyuhyun spent a couple weeks settling in, and then last night... Was it two nights ago? They'd said he might sleep for a day or two afterwards. A soft warning, a whispered assurance, his hand being squeezed, and then-
His fingers touch his neck, pressing against the artery and feeling the rhythmic pulse of blood beneath smooth, unmarked skin. Kyuhyun lets out the breath he's been holding. He curls his fingers and tightens them into a fist to cease their slight trembling, and tries to figure out if this was the best decision or the worst mistake he's ever made- but he can't get past the sudden, painful clench in his stomach. Oh, that's right, they'd mentioned this part, too.
As if on cue, the door is pushed open and Ryeowook peers around it. For a second his expression is amorphous, and Kyuhyun fights down the panic (is there something strange? Does he look strange? Did something go wrong? He doesn't feel wrong, just sharply, unrelentingly hungry).
The smile that breaks out on Ryeowook's face calms him, but not half so much as the heady scent coming from the glass in his hand. Kyuhyun has seen countless ones like it before, filled nearly to the top with dark red liquid. He opens his mouth to say good morning, or something along those lines, but when the glass reaches his hand all he can do is bring it to his lips and toss its contents back. Only when it's half empty does he pause for a break, and then he realizes an anomaly that nearly causes the glass to slip from his fingers.
"It's warm." Uncertainty creeps into his voice.
"It tastes better this way," Ryeowook insists, and it's not like Kyuhyun has anything to compare the statement to. Ryeowook sits gingerly on the side of the bed, hesitant despite a soothing smile, and makes a 'go on' motion with his hand. "Finish that and you'll be fine. We do keep the cafeteria refrigerators stocked, but you can get it fresh sometimes, too."
"Good to know," Kyuhyun mutters semi-sarcastically into the glass, the words sounding hollow, and he tries not to dwell on that statement. Since this is part of his diet now, he'd better get used to it. The voice in his head that tells him so isn't his own; it's higher and lighter in pitch, a little biting, but mostly fond. It was usually fond, but he also remembers it being cold. He remembers it being worried. Kyuhyun waits to feel something - a kick in the gut or heavy vindication - but mostly he just feels the beginning of a headache. He's been getting those a lot lately.
"Kyuhyun? How are you feeling?"
He sets the empty glass on the nearby desk and scrubs his face with his hands, drags his fingers through his hair. A shower would be nice. Solid food, too (though at present his belly is quite satisfied with the blood). "Normal, I guess."
"No side effects? Dizziness, anything?" Ryeowook angles his head to get a good look at the side of his neck. "Everything looks fine. You slept all night and for the better part of today, which is normal. Do you want anything? Need anything?"
"I'm really okay," Kyuhyun says, but he's unable to mask the strain in his voice. He extends his arm to ruffle Ryeowook's hair in reassurance. His fingers fluff the bangs, brushing against Ryeowook's forehead, and Kyuhyun's headache spikes, sharp and splitting-
into a thin twisting sound a rusty creak-creak of metal steel bars criss-crossing a gray sky a length of chain link after link after-
Playground. Swing set. A boy in one of the seats, swaying listlessly, fingers cold and white around the chains that squeak with every forward swing, he is singlesolitaryalone-
Filter: Children. Boys, girls, smiling-laughing-running-playing-angel-faced-and-cruel. Small hands that push and shove (knees hitting damp earth, grass stains, wet palms), an older boy with lips twisted into a sneer, plunking down in the vacated seat, a girl with frost-blonde curls and a gap-toothed smile juxtaposing harsh words: get out go away you weirdo freakmonsterdevil-
Hands folding into tiny fists in the dirt, jaw clenching, breath holding, hold it in hold it in holditin.
Hold. It. In.
(Suffocating.)
creak-creak-c r e a k-screech-crack goes the swing and chains tangle snap metal twists mangles ruptures poles bending shrapnel flying screaming crying can't stop can'tstopstopstopit.
(Head up. Look. Look.)
The boy looks back up with a line of red trickling down between his eyes and it's-
quiet
Kyuhyun blinks and the ache behind his eyes feels like an echo. His fingers have barely moved, still lightly touching Ryeowook's face, whose expression is turning puzzled and increasingly worried. His voice cuts through solid silence.
"Are you sure you're all right?"
Mouth dry, Kyuhyun pushes Ryeowook's bangs back with his thumb to reveal the faint scar at his hairline.
* * * * *
"It's called retrocognition, the ability to perceive the past through paranormal means."
I really wouldn't have figured that out by myself, thank you for informing me, Kyuhyun thinks unkindly, face betraying none of his inner sarcasm. He's had three more flashes since yesterday, all of them facilitated by touch that were like distorted movies, two vaguely remembered afterwards, and one that immediately faded from his memory like a dream. All of them occurred in less than a second in the present, and now whenever he makes the slightest hesitation he's being asked what he just saw. It's more than a little bothersome.
The unused classroom is cold and dim; the sole light source is what naturally shines through the windows with the blinds half-drawn. Kyuhyun lets his gaze wander towards the glimpse of flowering trees outside, revealing that spring has finally come.
"It's different for every person. I just get a sense of things out of nowhere, but I guess you get the whole shebang with visions and shit, huh?" comments a tall, gaunt man with a nervous habit of tapping his fingers against the nearest surface. A continuous rap beats out on top of a desk. He's the only other resident retrocog (Kyuhyun hates that term, it makes him sound like a robot) at Gaiten, and his remark is followed up by a miniscule sneer, the jealous bastard.
Want to trade? Kyuhyun almost asks, but keeps a lid on it for the sake of avoiding an argument. From what he's gathered, the entire cognition division (made up of clairvoyants of various types, and possibly various degrees of sanity) is already consumed in a perpetual game of one-upmanship over whose prediction is right. They don't need this little two-man party contributing, especially when the past is concrete and decided.
"Those headaches of yours, you had them before, right? Were they worse around people, places, or objects that are old? You know, ancient. Come on, speak up, I don't have all day."
Kyuhyun shrugs. "I don't know if there was a difference between the normal headaches and the psychic ones." How old is ancient? A hundred years, two hundred? He recalls a fussy voice stating that eighty-six is so not old in vampire years, and just look at Shiwon, he has a couple centuries on him and he actually ages.
He needs to stop thinking about these things, but he can't help hiding a small, reminiscing grin behind his hand, averting his eyes again.
The man snorts and ceases his tapping to cross his arms. "Damn, why am I stuck teaching the new kid? If only we hadn't lost so many in Newark..."
Kyuhyun suppresses a sigh. He's envious of the psychokinesis division Ryeowook is part of - they seem so much less bitchy.
* * * * *
Gaiten is a small, private university, and unaccredited. However, it's more of a home than a diploma-mill. The student body, along with the staff, is comprised entirely of vampires, both natural and made, and only a tiny portion of them are psychic. The general curriculum covers the typical range of college subjects with a leaning towards the arts, but also includes a unique vampire history course (which appears on transcripts as Medieval History, and is commonly referred to as Vamps101). Graduates are welcome to stay on campus, often to help teach, and it's a beautiful place out in the countryside at this time of year.
When Kyuhyun opens his eyes, the sun has started to set, rays peeking through the swaying branches of the willow tree he's sitting under. He admires the blurred, bright tint of the golden-green leaves from under lowered lashes. It creates a picturesque composition that does not demand, but coaxes appreciation. Not in words, perhaps - he's never been good at finding the right words (as a lyricist he has a long way to go), but contentment is easily expressed without. He hums a simple tune, a small sound at first, and a little empty. It takes on a similar pattern to a song he practiced yesterday during Vocal Technique class, and then he hits the right note. Almost simultaneously, another voice joins his, harmonizing with no effort at all.
Kyuhyun turns his head to the right and sees Yesung's profile just within his line of sight. Yesung's eyes are closed, his mien peaceful, relaxed against the thick tree trunk. Kyuhyun continues his humming, keeping to the pattern, while picking off an elongated willow leaf and pinching it between thumb and forefinger. Stifling a grin, he maintains his utmost concentration and leans over to tickle Yesung's nose with it.
Immediately, the song cuts off as Yesung snorts and yanks his head away, one eye cracking open to glare at the offender. Kyuhyun can only grin impishly, hand still poised in the air with the thin leaf. He's acting like a kid. He doesn't care.
"I swear, I've killed people for less," Yesung says in his most threatening tone, to which Kyuhyun only rolls his eyes.
"That kind of talk will never work on me again. I 'saw' that time with the puppy."
"You weren't supposed to see that!"
"I can't control what I see and what I don't."
"Well, learn," Yesung insists grumpily, pride stung, and Kyuhyun will concede that point.
He's supposed to be getting the hang of this retrocognition thing, figuring what to focus on and how, trying to sustain and remember the vision, controlling it. There's no such thing as complete control, of course, and there are limitations - but the fact that he gets the 'whole shebang' seems to indicate greater potential (and greater danger). The lessons haven't been going well, and it's been one migraine after another. The last time ended with a distressing nosebleed that had Ryeowook going to his teacher and demanding a break for Kyuhyun. He recognizes the need to master this ability of his, but he didn't exactly fight the idea of taking a day off (and seeing Ryeowook bite off his teacher's head was nothing if not priceless).
Kyuhyun sinks back into his lethargic haze. It will start getting cool as evening sets in, but staying here for a little while won't hurt. Maybe even a long while. Later, at some point, Yesung's hand drops to rest on top of his, gripping his fingers and holding on.
* * * * *
When the first muffled thump is heard from his ceiling, Kyuhyun ignores it. When a second one follows, he still refuses to acknowledge the sound, eyes riveted to his computer screen (where he is not procrastinating by playing a game of solitaire - instead he's trying to beat his pinball record). Third time's the charm. He glances up, then does a double-take as he watches a pair of sneakers descend from the supposedly solid ceiling. They're attached to denim-clad legs, a waist, a torso, and so on until a young man lands with both feet planted on the floor of Kyuhyun's room.
He's skinny and of average height, with short dark hair and eyes squinting in amusement. "Sorry for dropping in," he says, jerking his thumb upwards. "I knocked."
Kyuhyun tries to keep his jaw from sagging open while he asks himself, Did he seriously just make that joke?
Moments later, the door bursts open to reveal a flustered, panting Ryeowook. "I told you not to do that!" he bemoans, leaning on the doorframe and catching his breath.
The other guy shrugs and grins, arms spreading wide. "The world is my playground."
With a disgusted noise, Ryeowook makes an effort to straighten up. "Sorry about the intrusion," he apologizes to Kyuhyun with big eyes and a pained expression. "He does this all the time."
"Hey, if you could phase through matter, you'd find it convenient too." He stands casually, one hand slipping in his pocket while the other extends towards Kyuhyun. "I'm Yoochun, by the way. Ryeowook was just talking about you, so I thought I'd come say hi."
Kyuhyun takes the hand cautiously and finds it firm, with no accompanying headaches or visions (his control is still shoddy, showing hardly any progress at all). "Nice to meet you."
"Retrocog, right? Did you see anything?"
Kyuhyun's whole body rises and falls with his sigh, and he rolls his eyes heavenward. "If I had a dime for every time someone asked me that..."
"Well, people are secretive, and here you are, capable of just grabbing their secrets and dragging them out." Yoochun makes a reaching motion with his hand, and too late Kyuhyun realizes the direction of its path. He starts to jerk away, but Yoochun's fingers still touch - go through the side of his head and come back out. The sensation is a queer one; he feels the outside resistance for a fleeting instant, and remains aware of a slightly cool, peculiar presence within that makes his skin crawl.
"Yoochun," Ryeowook admonishes with a pinched look.
"Okay, okay, hands to myself." As though to emphasize his good will, he innocently sticks both deep into his pockets.
Kyuhyun resists the urge to step beyond arm's length anyway, still feeling a tingling aftereffect in his skull. "So, uh..." He makes a nervous flicking gesture with his fingers. "Will that work on anything?"
"Totally," Yoochun confirms with a wide grin. "I am the ultimate escape artist; no prison can hold me, not even if it was twenty feet of solid concrete. In theory, anyway. I haven't tried anything that thick, but I could probably manage it."
"...'Probably'?"
"It takes up energy, so I'll get tired after a lot of phasing. No disasters yet, though."
"Yet," Ryeowook repeats, frowning and hovering not-so-subtly by Kyuhyun's side (Yoochun quirks an eyebrow and Kyuhyun bites his lip as he smiles). "If you lost even a little bit of your control-"
"Pft, my control is perfect."
"No such thing."
"Fine," he concedes with a good-natured smile. "But near enough to keep me out of trouble. Or get me into it." A smirk, now.
"How does it work?" Kyuhyun asks, brain trying to wrap itself around this new idea. He hasn't seen examples of other psychokinetic abilities aside from Ryeowook's telekinesis (which he is quite happy to talk about or show off, so he really shouldn't protest too strongly over Yoochun); the psychics aren't singled out except for division-specific classes, and most don't advertise what they can do. Gaiten likes to build a sense of camaraderie.
"Eh, it's a matter of concentration and knowledge, I guess. It helps to know the layout of things - like the construction of a wall or building, the anatomy of a body, so I know what it is I'm phasing through. I have most of the campus memorized so I don't go through a floor and wind up in the girls' bathroom again by accident."
"But you could wind up there intentionally," Ryeowook mutters, which only prompts another grin, this one sheepish.
"That was an accident. Trust me, I have no shortage of embarrassing stories, but they'll cost you to hear them."
"Cost me what?" Kyuhyun smiles in return, already beginning to like this strange, cheerful guy who came in through his ceiling just minutes ago. He has long accepted that adaptation is the only way to make sense of anything in his life.
Yoochun makes a show of eying Kyuhyun critically, walking around him in a semi-circle. He stops, meets his gaze squarely, and states in a blunt fashion, "Sexual favors."
Ryeowook yelps. For an instant, Kyuhyun is struck completely dumb. Short circuit. Total malfunction. Blue screen of death.
Then Yoochun waves a dismissive hand. "Nah, I'm kidding."
"You-" Ryeowook might actually be shaking, and Kyuhyun covers his mouth to try and swallow his sudden gale of laughter. He ends up coughing.
Yoochun pats him on the back. When the reaction subsides, he reaches around to grasp Kyuhyun's hand, fingers wrapping around his wrist. "So," he says, voice light, "You really don't pick up anything from me?"
Kyuhyun lowers his gaze to the place of contact and the slightly contrasting tones of their skin. There's a point here, but he's not sure what it is. Keeping his eyes half-lidded, he shakes his head. "No secrets from you." Not at the moment.
Yoochun releases his hold. "Then I'll invite you to infringe upon my dignity by sharing one story. Here's a handy fact about phasing..." He tugs at the front of his t-shirt and flaps the material. "Clothes will go along with me if I've had them long enough to ah, imprint my mark on them. Small objects, too. I managed a body pillow once by wrapping myself around it, but it would be impossible to, for example, drive my car through a wall without a hell of an insurance bill. More's the pity, because that would be awesome."
"You'd kill at least three people that way," Ryeowook mutters, but quiets down for the rest of the story with a knowing grin. He's probably well-acquainted with such tales.
"Well, you know, sometimes you forget these rules when you're in a rush. Anyway, I was hanging out in town one day, wearing these new pants - and they weren't cheap, might I add..."
* * * * *
Kyuhyun sits at one of the dining hall tables, tuning out the low rumble of students' chatter, holding a half-eaten chicken salad sandwich in one hand and a library copy of Toni Morrison's Beloved in the other. He has a quiz in the afternoon and he's already thirty pages behind (it's so easy to lose track of time when he holes himself up in a practice room). His eyes skim the words printed across the paper, absorbing little of their meaning while he takes another bite out of his lunch.
'Some things go. Pass on. Some things just stay. I used to think it was my re-'
"Yo!" A hand plants itself on the back of his head and gives a playful push.
"Yoochun!" Kyuhyun protests as a dab of chicken salad gets on his nose, but he grins a little when one of Yoochun's friends hands him a napkin to wipe it away. "Thanks."
"No problem," says the other boy as he pulls out a chair to sit down, and the rest follow suit. Yoochun steals a chair from another table and squeezes it in between, and instead of awkwardly climbing into it, he simply phases through the back to take his seat. Soon the table is covered in plates and trays, and various drinks, some of which are definitely blood.
One of the guys (Kyuhyun recalls his face from class but not his name; he's a tall kid, and very skinny) picks up his cup and swirls its contents. As usual, the blood-scent is persistently appealing. "I heard some girls complaining yesterday that the school hasn't gotten any deliveries from Vince in a while."
Yoochun laughs it off. "They should stop expecting, because Jaejoong isn't putting up with that crap anymore."
"Really? Best news I've heard all year." There's a round of agreement from the company at the table, and Kyuhyun masks his confusion by taking a large bite out of his sandwich.
"Seriously," a new speaker continues, waving his fork and rolling his eyes, "I think Vince has gone off the deep end this time."
Kyuhyun thinks he's heard of Vince before, but not with such disdain. He finishes his sandwich and reaches for his drink (regular tea, thank you), shuffling his tray around to make more room for the others. There are words and short messages scratched into the plastic. 'PEACE.' 'A + C 4EVA.' 'ROBB IS A DICK.'
"He's been a little loopy since the start," Yoochun states, holding up a greasy slice of pizza in consideration. The cheese starts to slide off. "Systemized blood-draining from humans is an old trick."
Kyuhyun chokes on his tea. "What?" he gasps out once the hacking stops.
Yoochun makes a soft, understanding noise. "Right, I guess you haven't heard yet. Vince has been running this operation where he drains people en masse to make a special kind of blood delivery." Vince, Kyuhyun remembers now with a chill, is also the founder of the school. "But don't sweat it, we don't like the idea, either. Still, if you hear about that kind of thing, let me know."
"Vince has ideas," the guy twirling his fork adds, tapping the side of his head with the handle in emphasis. He speaks in a conspiring undertone. "To take down the Council - which is cool, I mean, they're a bunch of paranoid geezers - but he's doing it wrong. We're better off without him." He slides his gaze towards Yoochun, who shrugs.
The familiar-guy-from-class crosses his arms and leans back. "Guess what else I heard about Vince."
"He's cooped up in a ranch with a bunch of hippies, singing 'Helter Skelter'?"
This prompts a short bark of laughter and an edged grin. "Nah, but close. He's cooped up in the City, probably in some dark basement thinking, 'Checkmate, Shiwon!'"
"What?" Kyuhyun repeats, and another voice doubles over his. The quiet guy who had handed him the napkin is also staring, expression unreadable.
The classmate glances from one to the other. "I thought that might interest you, Geng. I didn't know about you, though," he says to Kyuhyun, adopting a sympathetic tone. "Did Shiwon screw you over, too?"
All eyes turn on him, and Kyuhyun can only manage a mute shake of his head. He makes a grab for his forgotten book, stuffing it in his backpack. "I've got reading to finish," he offers by way of explanation, picking up his tray and maneuvering through the obstacle course of tables and chairs.
* * * * *
"That's the thing about hanging around Yoochun too much," Ryeowook sighs, skimming through a packet and methodically highlighting parts of the text. He and Kyuhyun are doing homework while Yesung lords over them the fact that he completed his education fifty years ago. "He and his friends have these ideas..."
"It's a bad crowd," Yesung adds in, distaste coloring his words as he clicks away at the computer.
"Yoochun is all right." Ryeowook doesn't lift his eyes from his work.
"He's practically Jaejoong's pet."
"Anyway." Ryeowook finally caps his highlighter and looks up. "Don't worry about that stuff. It'll all blow over."
Okay, Kyuhyun thinks. Okay. He goes back to his book and sets a pen between his teeth, trying not to picture the City, his apartment, the walk to school, and all the people who just don't know anything getting dragged off somewhere and drained dry.
"Whatever is going on outside my door ain't for me. The world is in this room. This here's all there is and all there needs to be."
He stares at the words on the page and has the sudden impulse to fling the book away from himself. Kyuhyun grimaces, then there's a crack, a horrible taste flooding his tongue, and he spits out a mouthful of ink while Ryeowook fumbles for a box of tissues and Yesung falls over himself laughing.
* * * * *
His hand brushes the wristwatch by accident one morning while he's rushing to get ready for class, rummaging through his desk for the correct sheet music. His fingers slip under the pink strap and he pulls it out, expression falling flat. It's not the first time something belonging to Sungmin has been unearthed among his own stuff, from clothes to accessories to DVDs. Kyuhyun was at a loss when he first found them, and has started collecting the miscellaneous items in a box he keeps in the closet. Whenever he comes across something new, he just throws it in. Out of sight, out of mind, or so goes the theory. He swipes his thumb across the round surface of the watch, hearing the faint ticking of its hands, and the headache bursts behind his eyes-
tick, tick, tick...
a frown begins to form on kyuhyun's face, which is half-mashed into his pillow, hair all askew. there's a hand playing with the strands, pink wristwatch right beside his ear as fingers comb through mussed locks. sungmin lies on his side, gaze alert. he draws his index finger down the side of kyuhyun's cheek, over traces of morning stubble along his jaw, then up over the bridge of his nose and between the eyes, smoothing the wrinkle of irritation there. his teeth flash white in a smile before leaning in to kiss kyuhyun's lips.
almost-waking, good morning. lashes low. kyuhyun reaches around to cup the back of sungmin's head. warmth & kissing, oh, good morning, time to wake up. soft, slow, steady burn, ember-glow and fire-spark. kyuhyun has his hand on sungmin's hip, stroking skin, and sungmin's knee presses between kyuhyun's thighs, just a shift forward and the sounds of their breathing-
And his heart pounds loud and heavy in his ears.
Kyuhyun slams the watch down onto the desk, miraculously breaking neither, and spins to take two paces across the floor, stopping in the middle of his room. Face flushed, he rubs at the back of his too-warm neck. He's late for class. Where's his music? What time is it? The seconds ticking by - it's always sound that registers first - and the look on Sungmin's face (an expression not quite like anything he's seen before), the look on his own face (so that's how it is when...). That was the first time he's ever been in one of the visions, and it was...weird. Two points of view felt, remembered, and of course this one won't conveniently fade away like evaporating mist. Too close, too hot, Kyuhyun whirls and stares disbelievingly at the innocuous timepiece.
"It's just a watch," he tries to convince himself in notes of despair, approaching the desk. He doesn't lift his hand to touch it - he hasn't been able to replay any visions and most people consider it impossible, but now isn't the time to test the odds.
Time. Class. He's going crazy; this has to be what it's like to go crazy. There's the music, wedged between a folder and a textbook. Kyuhyun plucks it out, muttering under his breath how Sungmin makes him late even when he's not around, which seems completely unfair since Kyuhyun isn't getting compensated this time.
He squeezes his eyes shut at the responding flash of heat and the thud inside his ribcage. Maybe he needs another few moments to calm down. Maybe if he thinks about their last meeting. Kyuhyun can't actually recall the details anymore and suspects he doesn't want to, and it isn't likely to sneak up on him unless he learns how to hold his heart in his hand. He thinks of it in Sungmin's hand instead, the beat under his palm like the pulse that would quicken beneath his lips and tongue. The neck, the wrist, the inside of the elbow; all of the places where blood flows close to the surface, tantalizingly within reach. Kyuhyun understands the full extent of the temptation now, the hyper-awareness, and yet Sungmin never bit him. Even when Kyuhyun wouldn't have minded. Wanted it. Was greedy, wanting more than Sungmin was willing to give. He'd been so scared to risk what he did have, but then he risked it anyway. Gambled, lost.
Kyuhyun faces the door and reaches out with a resigned hand. He doesn't open it, he turns the lock instead. The music is left in a flutter of paper on the desk next to the watch, and he must be selfish still, keeping these remnants no matter how accidental they are. The past is coded into his system. He can't forget, can't turn away, it's time to stop running or run faster, and he's can't go any faster without going insane.
For a single, terrifying moment, Kyuhyun stands there in the middle of the room, listening to his own breathing and asking himself, What am I doing here?
It's about music (no, that was a bonus).
It's about moving on (now that's funny).
It's about being hurt (oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself).
Three strikes. Out.
* * * * *
Kyuhyun is willing to admit that he's done some stupid things in his twenty years of life. When he was thirteen, he got in a fight with a really big, really nasty fifteen-year-old while trying to impress a girl, and wound up with a black eye. At sixteen, he and his friends took a trip to New York where he got lost, and then got robbed. After the accident, he broke into his aunt's liquor cabinet, and sometime during the alcohol-induced haze he scribbled down lyrics on a scrap of wonderfully-cliché tear-stained paper. He fell in love with a vampire. He's still in love with a vampire. He has uncontrollable psychic powers. His life is an angsty teenage romance novel, a thriller, and a sci-fi story all rolled into one.
Yet here he is, stupidly sneaking into the dining hall well after midnight.
He asks himself for the billionth time if it would be better to just say something to someone, to dump the info on someone else and see what happens. Maybe nothing would happen. Would he be all right with that?
His footsteps slow with responsibility, then speed up again, quietly crossing the floor. The place is dark; it's been closed since nine o'clock, but he can see well enough without aid. Kyuhyun checks the kitchens first. There are rows of refrigerators and he goes through them all, recalling the image of what he's looking for.
The vision came without a splitting migraine (for once) that morning from the girl sitting near him in Lit. class. She dropped her book and he handed it back, the tips of their fingers brushed, and he heard the scrape-slide of something being pushed over a surface. A burst of cool air, dim early-morning light, the clatter and rattle of crates being moved off a truck. A large cooler in the girl's arms where she stood behind the truck, away from the others. She set it down, ran her fingertips over the bumpy lid before opening it, and nodded quickly in satisfaction. Blood bags were piled within, the kind you see hooked up to people in hospitals, not at all like the mislabeled cartons and jugs that are usually delivered.
"Tell Vince to send more next time," she said in a hushed undertone to the hovering man in the nondescript uniform. "He has more supporters than he thinks."
Then the book had been tugged free from Kyuhyun's hand and he spent the rest of the class sneaking glances at the girl, imagining her drinking from one of those bags. Either pouring its contents into a glass and mingling with everyone else, or just puncturing it with her teeth and tossing her head back, mouth open.
He could have gone straight to Yoochun and informed him about it, as he'd been requested. Or he could have gone to Ryeowook and Yesung instead. But he doesn't like the divide that's now become apparent to him, the pro- and anti-Vince camps. Kyuhyun doesn't even know who this guy is, aside from either a genius or a psycho.
He also doesn't like the possibility that Vince is in the City... And there he becomes conflicted over why it matters to him, so he shoves it into the back of his mind and focuses on the task at hand. Hello, curiosity. Killed any cats lately?
Kyuhyun shuts the last refrigerator door softly, standing there puzzled. No bags found yet, and none of the usual containers looked unusual. They had to be marked somehow - he'd think everyone would notice if their morning cup of pig blood turned out to be human. He looks around for the cooler next. It's medium-sized, and the color is...blue, he thinks. Dark blue with a white lid. He's getting a little better at remembering what he sees.
What if she took it to another building? he wonders after fruitless searching. It could be in her room for all he knows. Maybe he should try talking to her...
Oh, this is ridiculous.
Kyuhyun leans against a wall and breathes out a sigh. What does he think he's doing? Playing detective isn't going to do him any good at all, it's just another distraction, and he has class in the morning. Forget it. Maybe he'll tell both sides about what he saw.
He steps away from the wall when the door next to him bursts open, nearly flattening him as it bounces inches from his elbow. The patter of rain and a chilly gust of air sweep in from outside where the loading station is. Kyuhyun stands frozen as the door swings closed, leaving a figure in its wake. The person turns to him
"What are you doing here?" says a surprised, unfamiliar voice, and Kyuhyun may be able to see better in the dark than a human, but he can only make out the vague outline of features on the man's face.
"What are you doing here?" Kyuhyun counters, slightly offended, because at least he came in through the normal entrance.
"I just arrived," the man answers easily, casting about the kitchen before heading towards the refrigerators. "And I could use a drink. You too?"
"Yeah," he agrees, grasping onto the excuse. It's sort of true, anyway. In a sense.
The light from within the fridge illuminates the stranger's profile for a moment, revealing young features before the door shuts. There's a pause afterwards as he looks around again, hefting the full carton, then walks purposefully to where the cups are stored. He moves with remembered familiarity with the place.
"You're a student, aren't you?" The blood is poured into a tall plastic cup and offered.
"Yeah," Kyuhyun monosyllabically repeats, hand reaching out to grasp the sides of the cup and - hell, it's worth a try - brush against slightly cold fingers. This probably won't work twice in one day, with his luck-
The clanging of bells is deafening, challenged only by violent gusts of wind. One hand scrabbling against roof tiles, the other locked around a white wrist where a body hangs limply, but there's laughter-
"You know," the man shouts over the rest of the noise, and he strains, pulls. He sounds so calm but his heart is racing, he's panting lightly, a drop of sweat slides down the side of his face that he can't afford to shake off like he can't afford to blink even when the air is drying his eyes and the image of the person he's holding onto is going fuzzy and that's not good so- Blink. He wets his dry, cracked lips. "The view won't be so great when you hit the ground."
Black hair whips across a bright-eyed face and his smile catches the rays of sun spilling through the clouds just above their heads. The height is incredible, dizzying, and the world seems like it will spin out of control any minute. Down below the dangling feet are people crowding the steps of the building, unaware of what's going on. The bells finally stop and he pitches his voice.
"It's easy, Yunho. Just keep holding on."
"What do you think I'm made of?" His free arm wraps around the base of the cross that tops the cathedral and he uses that as leverage. The other man deigns to help when he is able to reach the ledge with his other hand, and together they drag him up.
Yunho rolls over onto his back, limbs spread flat on the sharp slant of the roof, and he catches his breath, eyes squinting at the sun. His one hand hasn't released the other's wrist, grip painful, but no complaint is forthcoming. "God," he addresses the sky with the shadow of the cross falling into line next to him. "Please increase Jaejoong's dosage of common sense. He promises to use it responsibly."
Jaejoong grins and his lips move, uttering something low and laughing, and Yunho is simply breathless-
Kyuhyun sucks in a breath like he hasn't breathed in forever. His head swims in the aftermath.
"Hey, are you...?" A note of hesitation and concern. The man - Yunho - reaches out a tentative hand.
"I..." Kyuhyun's own hand flies to his face, and there on his upper lip... He flicks his tongue, but the smell is confirmation enough: his nose is bleeding. "Damnit!"
Yunho goes to the sink, searching around for a towel that he hands over. "Here. Are you all right?"
"Peachy," he replies in a slightly nasal tone, dabbing at his nose and thinking how creepy it is to recognize the scent of your own blood and relate it to food. Kyuhyun waits for the usual question, but it doesn't come. Of course, Yunho wouldn't know about his retrocognition, but he doesn't seem inclined to pry, either. Kyuhyun shifts awkwardly.
"Think you'll be all right heading back?" Yunho asks, turning on the faucet and washing out the cups.
"I'll manage." Kyuhyun turns and takes three steps before spinning around again. "Um, and thank you."
"Take care."
* * * * *
"Yoochun isn't in," a voice informs from behind, and Kyuhyun stops with his fist raised in mid-air to knock. He lowers it sheepishly, turning around. One of the guys from lunch that time, the classmate whose name he finally remembers - Zhou Mi - is standing there with the other friend (what was his name again - Geng?).
"Oh. Well-"
"I bet I know where he is though," Zhou Mi insinuates with a quirk of his brows. The other murmurs something low and rapid in Chinese next to Zhou Mi's ear, but he only shakes his head. "Nah, it's fine. Kyuhyun, try room 34. Take the stairs down and turn right at the hall."
"Thanks." He leaves with the feeling that both pairs of eyes are on him.
Kyuhyun had woken up in the morning feeling like a train had driven through his skull. Apparently, he really had been pushing his luck yesterday. He skipped his first class and suffered through the second, then while he was forcing food into his stomach he came to the decision that he should tell Yoochun about the delivery after all. It's better than doing nothing, and he's obviously useless on his own. He feels better now, well into the afternoon, but there's still an insistent ache behind his temples. He avoids touching anything with his bare skin at all costs.
The moment he arrives at room 34, someone from inside complains, "Would you quit whispering? The precogs have seen this coming for ages. This is the worst conspiracy ever." The voice strikes a familiar chord, and it only takes Kyuhyun a second to match it with an image: dark, wind-swept hair dusting a pale face, arm stretched above his head, whole body dangling hundreds of feet in the air.
"They also predicted the school would blow up two years ago," Yoochun interjects, and Kyuhyun can easily picture the grin on his face.
"Fine." And that's Yunho's unruffled tone. "Look, you know why I'm here. Don't do this."
"Do you really think I have a choice?" Jaejoong asks with a lilt to his question, which borders on playful.
"Yes," Yunho says with Yoochun's, "No," immediately following.
"Yunho," Jaejoong says, and this time he sounds firm. "If you were in my position, you couldn't refuse either."
There's a pause, and Yoochun translates the lack of response. "He probably wants to say that he and you are totally different cases, but then you'd kick his ass."
"Damn straight."
Kyuhyun stands silently next to the door, back pressed to the wall. This is definitely something he shouldn't be listening to, but he's not nearly enough of a conscience-minded person to just walk away. He chalks it up as Stupid Thing #7.
"Listen to you two," and Yunho may have sighed. "Tell them to find someone else. Jaejoong, the only thing you could lead is lemmings off a cliff."
"So help me out."
This time Yunho's sigh is practically explosive. "It's never as easy as you think it is. If all you wanted was to off Vince, whatever, I still regret not getting him in Newark. But don't take his place."
"You know, Yunho... Jaejoong has basically been running this school for years now. He's more capable than you think." Kyuhyun allows himself to be surprised by how natural Yoochun's sincerity is. He's never heard that kind of warmth from the guy before, but the edge comes right back when he adds, "Besides, I have Vince covered."
"Yunho..." Jaejoong's voice quiets, and Kyuhyun ends up leaning to press his ear to the door without thinking. "It can be this easy if you don't make it difficult."
"I make things difficult? I- Okay, I can't help you with this, Jaejoong. You know I can't, I already-"
"That is so typical of you." Jaejoong goes abruptly derisive, words precise and scathing. "The poor, conflicted dhampir. Yunho, will you ever learn to just drop the baggage and do what's right?"
"Watch me. Dropping it now."
"You sonofa- What, are you going to the City now to tattle on me to Shiwon?"
"Just don't get yourself killed, Jaejoong."
Kyuhyun leaps back as the door is flung open with a sense of déjà vu, pressing himself back against the wall and praying to become a chameleon. No such luck. Yunho spots him at once and he's... Yeah, he's pissed. Kyuhyun can't do anything except imitate a deer caught in the road. A very guilty deer.
Yunho just looks at him with a series of emotions making their presence known on his face: anger first of all, then his eyes widening in surprise and recognition, narrowing along with a scowl, finally closing for a brief moment as he shakes his head. His hand cups around Kyuhyun's shoulder, pulling him away from the wall and guiding him down the hall. Yunho's mouth is tight-lipped, but he doesn't sound especially mad when he asks neutrally, "So how are you feeling?"
"Um. Been better," he answers honestly around his dry throat.
"Well..." Yunho tilts his head from side to side, like he's sorting out words in his head and rejecting everything he comes up with. Eventually he has to give it up as a loss. "I guess that's it, then. Be careful, kid."
"Are you really going to the City?" The question practically has wings from the way it bursts out of Kyuhyun's mouth, frantic and confused.
Yunho is quiet for a moment. He takes a deep breath, lets it out. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am."
The world feels like it's slowly tipping, and Kyuhyun is starting to slide. "I know Shiwon," he puts in, and that must have turned on a faucet because the words just babble out from there. "I mean, I've met him a few times. And I've been hearing all this stuff, but I don't think... But that doesn't even matter and I probably don't even care. Why am I here, really?"
He poses the question to himself harshly. It's not about music, it's not about moving on, and it's only partly about being hurt. So he was hurt, so what? He's been hurt before. But he's never been so- (scared-attached-helpless-lost) Kyuhyun has never been good at finding the right words, but since when did he stop trying?
"I think I came for all the wrong reasons. I probably can't undo that- I mean, no, I definitely can't, but I..."
...Need to face this, need to get up and try, try again, need to hold on this time, need to go-
"I think I need to go back."
end
Sorry for the long wait again! You all probably know how hectic this time of year is. Uh, but Cityverse's six-month anniversary is coming up in May and we have something new planned? :D;
I've been promising exciting plot developments for a while, right? Here they are, along with a veritable horde of new faces. Yunho, by the way, was mentioned (but not named) in Sungmin's backstory. "[Sungmin] keeps up to date on gossip, but he's never heard of vampires teaming up with hunters, and there's even a young half-breed as part of the hastily-gathered group." A dhampir is half-human, half-vampire, and there's more than one in our cast.
Translation of the title: enter all ye who seek knowledge. It's from Buffy. XD; There are about a billion and one references to all sorts of things in this installment.
Lastly, you know how Sungmin's song was Keep Moving by Ivy? Kyuhyun's corresponding song is Tess Don't Tell. One day I'll probably just make a soundtrack for them.
"All this time, it's still on your mind. You've got to learn to have faith sometimes.
Careful now, when the truth comes out, you'll be gone-
You're the one he depends on."
Character(s): Kyuhyun
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 7800
Summary: Ninth installment. Kyuhyun attempts to escape the past, but finds that it is coded into his system.
References: Story Archive
Shout-outs: This installment was finally completed for jaded_skys ♥ Enjoy Korea~ And another huge thanks to meitachi for her help!
The first thing Kyuhyun is aware of is warmth hitting him full on the face. He cracks his eyes open, just a sliver, and flinches from the sudden stabs of sunlight. His room is never this bright in the morning. Did he leave the blinds open? Concern rises up from the back of his mind, a vague feeling of 'something's not right,' but the anxiety is dulled by a sense of familiarity with his surroundings. Kyuhyun turns his face into a pillow that is unmistakably his, soft and cool against his cheek, and the worry fades. He can't recall what day of the week it is off the top of his head - maybe it's a Saturday or Sunday, which is why his alarm didn't go off. Either that or he's missed his eight A.M. He's been skipping a lot lately, what with Sungmin staying over more and more frequently. He should probably have a talk with him about that, though the thought makes him extremely reluctant...
Wait.
They've already had that talk.
Kyuhyun finds himself blinking up at the ceiling, which is in remarkably better condition than it should be, lacking the stains and signs of wear that are typically found throughout his apartment. The layout of the room isn't right with the window facing the wrong direction, his bed on the wrong side, and it's actually not his apartment room at all. Most of his stuff is here- And then he remembers: this is his dorm room at Gaiten University, about four hours from the City by bus.
What a miserable ride that had been, with Ryeowook in an unusual (but not unwarranted) black mood since Yesung had failed to make the departure time. He had refused to talk about it, staring out the window as if expecting his partner to appear by the side of the road. Eventually, he'd nodded off into a restless slumber, head pillowed on Kyuhyun's shoulder. Try as he might, Kyuhyun had not managed to follow his example. Too busy feeling guilty, too busy feeling angry, and nothing to distract him from feeling sorry for himself.
He hadn't welcomed the sight of the new college, even as it was illuminated by the light of dawn. 'Formatia Trans Sicere Educatorum' was wrought into the iron gates that had opened without a sound. The rest of that day he can't clearly recall, but on the second morning Yesung had arrived, safe and mostly unharmed. Things brightened after that.
Kyuhyun spent a couple weeks settling in, and then last night... Was it two nights ago? They'd said he might sleep for a day or two afterwards. A soft warning, a whispered assurance, his hand being squeezed, and then-
His fingers touch his neck, pressing against the artery and feeling the rhythmic pulse of blood beneath smooth, unmarked skin. Kyuhyun lets out the breath he's been holding. He curls his fingers and tightens them into a fist to cease their slight trembling, and tries to figure out if this was the best decision or the worst mistake he's ever made- but he can't get past the sudden, painful clench in his stomach. Oh, that's right, they'd mentioned this part, too.
As if on cue, the door is pushed open and Ryeowook peers around it. For a second his expression is amorphous, and Kyuhyun fights down the panic (is there something strange? Does he look strange? Did something go wrong? He doesn't feel wrong, just sharply, unrelentingly hungry).
The smile that breaks out on Ryeowook's face calms him, but not half so much as the heady scent coming from the glass in his hand. Kyuhyun has seen countless ones like it before, filled nearly to the top with dark red liquid. He opens his mouth to say good morning, or something along those lines, but when the glass reaches his hand all he can do is bring it to his lips and toss its contents back. Only when it's half empty does he pause for a break, and then he realizes an anomaly that nearly causes the glass to slip from his fingers.
"It's warm." Uncertainty creeps into his voice.
"It tastes better this way," Ryeowook insists, and it's not like Kyuhyun has anything to compare the statement to. Ryeowook sits gingerly on the side of the bed, hesitant despite a soothing smile, and makes a 'go on' motion with his hand. "Finish that and you'll be fine. We do keep the cafeteria refrigerators stocked, but you can get it fresh sometimes, too."
"Good to know," Kyuhyun mutters semi-sarcastically into the glass, the words sounding hollow, and he tries not to dwell on that statement. Since this is part of his diet now, he'd better get used to it. The voice in his head that tells him so isn't his own; it's higher and lighter in pitch, a little biting, but mostly fond. It was usually fond, but he also remembers it being cold. He remembers it being worried. Kyuhyun waits to feel something - a kick in the gut or heavy vindication - but mostly he just feels the beginning of a headache. He's been getting those a lot lately.
"Kyuhyun? How are you feeling?"
He sets the empty glass on the nearby desk and scrubs his face with his hands, drags his fingers through his hair. A shower would be nice. Solid food, too (though at present his belly is quite satisfied with the blood). "Normal, I guess."
"No side effects? Dizziness, anything?" Ryeowook angles his head to get a good look at the side of his neck. "Everything looks fine. You slept all night and for the better part of today, which is normal. Do you want anything? Need anything?"
"I'm really okay," Kyuhyun says, but he's unable to mask the strain in his voice. He extends his arm to ruffle Ryeowook's hair in reassurance. His fingers fluff the bangs, brushing against Ryeowook's forehead, and Kyuhyun's headache spikes, sharp and splitting-
into a thin twisting sound a rusty creak-creak of metal steel bars criss-crossing a gray sky a length of chain link after link after-
Playground. Swing set. A boy in one of the seats, swaying listlessly, fingers cold and white around the chains that squeak with every forward swing, he is singlesolitaryalone-
Filter: Children. Boys, girls, smiling-laughing-running-playing-angel-faced-and-cruel. Small hands that push and shove (knees hitting damp earth, grass stains, wet palms), an older boy with lips twisted into a sneer, plunking down in the vacated seat, a girl with frost-blonde curls and a gap-toothed smile juxtaposing harsh words: get out go away you weirdo freakmonsterdevil-
Hands folding into tiny fists in the dirt, jaw clenching, breath holding, hold it in hold it in holditin.
Hold. It. In.
(Suffocating.)
creak-creak-c r e a k-screech-crack goes the swing and chains tangle snap metal twists mangles ruptures poles bending shrapnel flying screaming crying can't stop can'tstopstopstopit.
(Head up. Look. Look.)
The boy looks back up with a line of red trickling down between his eyes and it's-
quiet
Kyuhyun blinks and the ache behind his eyes feels like an echo. His fingers have barely moved, still lightly touching Ryeowook's face, whose expression is turning puzzled and increasingly worried. His voice cuts through solid silence.
"Are you sure you're all right?"
Mouth dry, Kyuhyun pushes Ryeowook's bangs back with his thumb to reveal the faint scar at his hairline.
* * * * *
"It's called retrocognition, the ability to perceive the past through paranormal means."
I really wouldn't have figured that out by myself, thank you for informing me, Kyuhyun thinks unkindly, face betraying none of his inner sarcasm. He's had three more flashes since yesterday, all of them facilitated by touch that were like distorted movies, two vaguely remembered afterwards, and one that immediately faded from his memory like a dream. All of them occurred in less than a second in the present, and now whenever he makes the slightest hesitation he's being asked what he just saw. It's more than a little bothersome.
The unused classroom is cold and dim; the sole light source is what naturally shines through the windows with the blinds half-drawn. Kyuhyun lets his gaze wander towards the glimpse of flowering trees outside, revealing that spring has finally come.
"It's different for every person. I just get a sense of things out of nowhere, but I guess you get the whole shebang with visions and shit, huh?" comments a tall, gaunt man with a nervous habit of tapping his fingers against the nearest surface. A continuous rap beats out on top of a desk. He's the only other resident retrocog (Kyuhyun hates that term, it makes him sound like a robot) at Gaiten, and his remark is followed up by a miniscule sneer, the jealous bastard.
Want to trade? Kyuhyun almost asks, but keeps a lid on it for the sake of avoiding an argument. From what he's gathered, the entire cognition division (made up of clairvoyants of various types, and possibly various degrees of sanity) is already consumed in a perpetual game of one-upmanship over whose prediction is right. They don't need this little two-man party contributing, especially when the past is concrete and decided.
"Those headaches of yours, you had them before, right? Were they worse around people, places, or objects that are old? You know, ancient. Come on, speak up, I don't have all day."
Kyuhyun shrugs. "I don't know if there was a difference between the normal headaches and the psychic ones." How old is ancient? A hundred years, two hundred? He recalls a fussy voice stating that eighty-six is so not old in vampire years, and just look at Shiwon, he has a couple centuries on him and he actually ages.
He needs to stop thinking about these things, but he can't help hiding a small, reminiscing grin behind his hand, averting his eyes again.
The man snorts and ceases his tapping to cross his arms. "Damn, why am I stuck teaching the new kid? If only we hadn't lost so many in Newark..."
Kyuhyun suppresses a sigh. He's envious of the psychokinesis division Ryeowook is part of - they seem so much less bitchy.
* * * * *
Gaiten is a small, private university, and unaccredited. However, it's more of a home than a diploma-mill. The student body, along with the staff, is comprised entirely of vampires, both natural and made, and only a tiny portion of them are psychic. The general curriculum covers the typical range of college subjects with a leaning towards the arts, but also includes a unique vampire history course (which appears on transcripts as Medieval History, and is commonly referred to as Vamps101). Graduates are welcome to stay on campus, often to help teach, and it's a beautiful place out in the countryside at this time of year.
When Kyuhyun opens his eyes, the sun has started to set, rays peeking through the swaying branches of the willow tree he's sitting under. He admires the blurred, bright tint of the golden-green leaves from under lowered lashes. It creates a picturesque composition that does not demand, but coaxes appreciation. Not in words, perhaps - he's never been good at finding the right words (as a lyricist he has a long way to go), but contentment is easily expressed without. He hums a simple tune, a small sound at first, and a little empty. It takes on a similar pattern to a song he practiced yesterday during Vocal Technique class, and then he hits the right note. Almost simultaneously, another voice joins his, harmonizing with no effort at all.
Kyuhyun turns his head to the right and sees Yesung's profile just within his line of sight. Yesung's eyes are closed, his mien peaceful, relaxed against the thick tree trunk. Kyuhyun continues his humming, keeping to the pattern, while picking off an elongated willow leaf and pinching it between thumb and forefinger. Stifling a grin, he maintains his utmost concentration and leans over to tickle Yesung's nose with it.
Immediately, the song cuts off as Yesung snorts and yanks his head away, one eye cracking open to glare at the offender. Kyuhyun can only grin impishly, hand still poised in the air with the thin leaf. He's acting like a kid. He doesn't care.
"I swear, I've killed people for less," Yesung says in his most threatening tone, to which Kyuhyun only rolls his eyes.
"That kind of talk will never work on me again. I 'saw' that time with the puppy."
"You weren't supposed to see that!"
"I can't control what I see and what I don't."
"Well, learn," Yesung insists grumpily, pride stung, and Kyuhyun will concede that point.
He's supposed to be getting the hang of this retrocognition thing, figuring what to focus on and how, trying to sustain and remember the vision, controlling it. There's no such thing as complete control, of course, and there are limitations - but the fact that he gets the 'whole shebang' seems to indicate greater potential (and greater danger). The lessons haven't been going well, and it's been one migraine after another. The last time ended with a distressing nosebleed that had Ryeowook going to his teacher and demanding a break for Kyuhyun. He recognizes the need to master this ability of his, but he didn't exactly fight the idea of taking a day off (and seeing Ryeowook bite off his teacher's head was nothing if not priceless).
Kyuhyun sinks back into his lethargic haze. It will start getting cool as evening sets in, but staying here for a little while won't hurt. Maybe even a long while. Later, at some point, Yesung's hand drops to rest on top of his, gripping his fingers and holding on.
* * * * *
When the first muffled thump is heard from his ceiling, Kyuhyun ignores it. When a second one follows, he still refuses to acknowledge the sound, eyes riveted to his computer screen (where he is not procrastinating by playing a game of solitaire - instead he's trying to beat his pinball record). Third time's the charm. He glances up, then does a double-take as he watches a pair of sneakers descend from the supposedly solid ceiling. They're attached to denim-clad legs, a waist, a torso, and so on until a young man lands with both feet planted on the floor of Kyuhyun's room.
He's skinny and of average height, with short dark hair and eyes squinting in amusement. "Sorry for dropping in," he says, jerking his thumb upwards. "I knocked."
Kyuhyun tries to keep his jaw from sagging open while he asks himself, Did he seriously just make that joke?
Moments later, the door bursts open to reveal a flustered, panting Ryeowook. "I told you not to do that!" he bemoans, leaning on the doorframe and catching his breath.
The other guy shrugs and grins, arms spreading wide. "The world is my playground."
With a disgusted noise, Ryeowook makes an effort to straighten up. "Sorry about the intrusion," he apologizes to Kyuhyun with big eyes and a pained expression. "He does this all the time."
"Hey, if you could phase through matter, you'd find it convenient too." He stands casually, one hand slipping in his pocket while the other extends towards Kyuhyun. "I'm Yoochun, by the way. Ryeowook was just talking about you, so I thought I'd come say hi."
Kyuhyun takes the hand cautiously and finds it firm, with no accompanying headaches or visions (his control is still shoddy, showing hardly any progress at all). "Nice to meet you."
"Retrocog, right? Did you see anything?"
Kyuhyun's whole body rises and falls with his sigh, and he rolls his eyes heavenward. "If I had a dime for every time someone asked me that..."
"Well, people are secretive, and here you are, capable of just grabbing their secrets and dragging them out." Yoochun makes a reaching motion with his hand, and too late Kyuhyun realizes the direction of its path. He starts to jerk away, but Yoochun's fingers still touch - go through the side of his head and come back out. The sensation is a queer one; he feels the outside resistance for a fleeting instant, and remains aware of a slightly cool, peculiar presence within that makes his skin crawl.
"Yoochun," Ryeowook admonishes with a pinched look.
"Okay, okay, hands to myself." As though to emphasize his good will, he innocently sticks both deep into his pockets.
Kyuhyun resists the urge to step beyond arm's length anyway, still feeling a tingling aftereffect in his skull. "So, uh..." He makes a nervous flicking gesture with his fingers. "Will that work on anything?"
"Totally," Yoochun confirms with a wide grin. "I am the ultimate escape artist; no prison can hold me, not even if it was twenty feet of solid concrete. In theory, anyway. I haven't tried anything that thick, but I could probably manage it."
"...'Probably'?"
"It takes up energy, so I'll get tired after a lot of phasing. No disasters yet, though."
"Yet," Ryeowook repeats, frowning and hovering not-so-subtly by Kyuhyun's side (Yoochun quirks an eyebrow and Kyuhyun bites his lip as he smiles). "If you lost even a little bit of your control-"
"Pft, my control is perfect."
"No such thing."
"Fine," he concedes with a good-natured smile. "But near enough to keep me out of trouble. Or get me into it." A smirk, now.
"How does it work?" Kyuhyun asks, brain trying to wrap itself around this new idea. He hasn't seen examples of other psychokinetic abilities aside from Ryeowook's telekinesis (which he is quite happy to talk about or show off, so he really shouldn't protest too strongly over Yoochun); the psychics aren't singled out except for division-specific classes, and most don't advertise what they can do. Gaiten likes to build a sense of camaraderie.
"Eh, it's a matter of concentration and knowledge, I guess. It helps to know the layout of things - like the construction of a wall or building, the anatomy of a body, so I know what it is I'm phasing through. I have most of the campus memorized so I don't go through a floor and wind up in the girls' bathroom again by accident."
"But you could wind up there intentionally," Ryeowook mutters, which only prompts another grin, this one sheepish.
"That was an accident. Trust me, I have no shortage of embarrassing stories, but they'll cost you to hear them."
"Cost me what?" Kyuhyun smiles in return, already beginning to like this strange, cheerful guy who came in through his ceiling just minutes ago. He has long accepted that adaptation is the only way to make sense of anything in his life.
Yoochun makes a show of eying Kyuhyun critically, walking around him in a semi-circle. He stops, meets his gaze squarely, and states in a blunt fashion, "Sexual favors."
Ryeowook yelps. For an instant, Kyuhyun is struck completely dumb. Short circuit. Total malfunction. Blue screen of death.
Then Yoochun waves a dismissive hand. "Nah, I'm kidding."
"You-" Ryeowook might actually be shaking, and Kyuhyun covers his mouth to try and swallow his sudden gale of laughter. He ends up coughing.
Yoochun pats him on the back. When the reaction subsides, he reaches around to grasp Kyuhyun's hand, fingers wrapping around his wrist. "So," he says, voice light, "You really don't pick up anything from me?"
Kyuhyun lowers his gaze to the place of contact and the slightly contrasting tones of their skin. There's a point here, but he's not sure what it is. Keeping his eyes half-lidded, he shakes his head. "No secrets from you." Not at the moment.
Yoochun releases his hold. "Then I'll invite you to infringe upon my dignity by sharing one story. Here's a handy fact about phasing..." He tugs at the front of his t-shirt and flaps the material. "Clothes will go along with me if I've had them long enough to ah, imprint my mark on them. Small objects, too. I managed a body pillow once by wrapping myself around it, but it would be impossible to, for example, drive my car through a wall without a hell of an insurance bill. More's the pity, because that would be awesome."
"You'd kill at least three people that way," Ryeowook mutters, but quiets down for the rest of the story with a knowing grin. He's probably well-acquainted with such tales.
"Well, you know, sometimes you forget these rules when you're in a rush. Anyway, I was hanging out in town one day, wearing these new pants - and they weren't cheap, might I add..."
* * * * *
Kyuhyun sits at one of the dining hall tables, tuning out the low rumble of students' chatter, holding a half-eaten chicken salad sandwich in one hand and a library copy of Toni Morrison's Beloved in the other. He has a quiz in the afternoon and he's already thirty pages behind (it's so easy to lose track of time when he holes himself up in a practice room). His eyes skim the words printed across the paper, absorbing little of their meaning while he takes another bite out of his lunch.
'Some things go. Pass on. Some things just stay. I used to think it was my re-'
"Yo!" A hand plants itself on the back of his head and gives a playful push.
"Yoochun!" Kyuhyun protests as a dab of chicken salad gets on his nose, but he grins a little when one of Yoochun's friends hands him a napkin to wipe it away. "Thanks."
"No problem," says the other boy as he pulls out a chair to sit down, and the rest follow suit. Yoochun steals a chair from another table and squeezes it in between, and instead of awkwardly climbing into it, he simply phases through the back to take his seat. Soon the table is covered in plates and trays, and various drinks, some of which are definitely blood.
One of the guys (Kyuhyun recalls his face from class but not his name; he's a tall kid, and very skinny) picks up his cup and swirls its contents. As usual, the blood-scent is persistently appealing. "I heard some girls complaining yesterday that the school hasn't gotten any deliveries from Vince in a while."
Yoochun laughs it off. "They should stop expecting, because Jaejoong isn't putting up with that crap anymore."
"Really? Best news I've heard all year." There's a round of agreement from the company at the table, and Kyuhyun masks his confusion by taking a large bite out of his sandwich.
"Seriously," a new speaker continues, waving his fork and rolling his eyes, "I think Vince has gone off the deep end this time."
Kyuhyun thinks he's heard of Vince before, but not with such disdain. He finishes his sandwich and reaches for his drink (regular tea, thank you), shuffling his tray around to make more room for the others. There are words and short messages scratched into the plastic. 'PEACE.' 'A + C 4EVA.' 'ROBB IS A DICK.'
"He's been a little loopy since the start," Yoochun states, holding up a greasy slice of pizza in consideration. The cheese starts to slide off. "Systemized blood-draining from humans is an old trick."
Kyuhyun chokes on his tea. "What?" he gasps out once the hacking stops.
Yoochun makes a soft, understanding noise. "Right, I guess you haven't heard yet. Vince has been running this operation where he drains people en masse to make a special kind of blood delivery." Vince, Kyuhyun remembers now with a chill, is also the founder of the school. "But don't sweat it, we don't like the idea, either. Still, if you hear about that kind of thing, let me know."
"Vince has ideas," the guy twirling his fork adds, tapping the side of his head with the handle in emphasis. He speaks in a conspiring undertone. "To take down the Council - which is cool, I mean, they're a bunch of paranoid geezers - but he's doing it wrong. We're better off without him." He slides his gaze towards Yoochun, who shrugs.
The familiar-guy-from-class crosses his arms and leans back. "Guess what else I heard about Vince."
"He's cooped up in a ranch with a bunch of hippies, singing 'Helter Skelter'?"
This prompts a short bark of laughter and an edged grin. "Nah, but close. He's cooped up in the City, probably in some dark basement thinking, 'Checkmate, Shiwon!'"
"What?" Kyuhyun repeats, and another voice doubles over his. The quiet guy who had handed him the napkin is also staring, expression unreadable.
The classmate glances from one to the other. "I thought that might interest you, Geng. I didn't know about you, though," he says to Kyuhyun, adopting a sympathetic tone. "Did Shiwon screw you over, too?"
All eyes turn on him, and Kyuhyun can only manage a mute shake of his head. He makes a grab for his forgotten book, stuffing it in his backpack. "I've got reading to finish," he offers by way of explanation, picking up his tray and maneuvering through the obstacle course of tables and chairs.
* * * * *
"That's the thing about hanging around Yoochun too much," Ryeowook sighs, skimming through a packet and methodically highlighting parts of the text. He and Kyuhyun are doing homework while Yesung lords over them the fact that he completed his education fifty years ago. "He and his friends have these ideas..."
"It's a bad crowd," Yesung adds in, distaste coloring his words as he clicks away at the computer.
"Yoochun is all right." Ryeowook doesn't lift his eyes from his work.
"He's practically Jaejoong's pet."
"Anyway." Ryeowook finally caps his highlighter and looks up. "Don't worry about that stuff. It'll all blow over."
Okay, Kyuhyun thinks. Okay. He goes back to his book and sets a pen between his teeth, trying not to picture the City, his apartment, the walk to school, and all the people who just don't know anything getting dragged off somewhere and drained dry.
"Whatever is going on outside my door ain't for me. The world is in this room. This here's all there is and all there needs to be."
He stares at the words on the page and has the sudden impulse to fling the book away from himself. Kyuhyun grimaces, then there's a crack, a horrible taste flooding his tongue, and he spits out a mouthful of ink while Ryeowook fumbles for a box of tissues and Yesung falls over himself laughing.
* * * * *
His hand brushes the wristwatch by accident one morning while he's rushing to get ready for class, rummaging through his desk for the correct sheet music. His fingers slip under the pink strap and he pulls it out, expression falling flat. It's not the first time something belonging to Sungmin has been unearthed among his own stuff, from clothes to accessories to DVDs. Kyuhyun was at a loss when he first found them, and has started collecting the miscellaneous items in a box he keeps in the closet. Whenever he comes across something new, he just throws it in. Out of sight, out of mind, or so goes the theory. He swipes his thumb across the round surface of the watch, hearing the faint ticking of its hands, and the headache bursts behind his eyes-
tick, tick, tick...
a frown begins to form on kyuhyun's face, which is half-mashed into his pillow, hair all askew. there's a hand playing with the strands, pink wristwatch right beside his ear as fingers comb through mussed locks. sungmin lies on his side, gaze alert. he draws his index finger down the side of kyuhyun's cheek, over traces of morning stubble along his jaw, then up over the bridge of his nose and between the eyes, smoothing the wrinkle of irritation there. his teeth flash white in a smile before leaning in to kiss kyuhyun's lips.
almost-waking, good morning. lashes low. kyuhyun reaches around to cup the back of sungmin's head. warmth & kissing, oh, good morning, time to wake up. soft, slow, steady burn, ember-glow and fire-spark. kyuhyun has his hand on sungmin's hip, stroking skin, and sungmin's knee presses between kyuhyun's thighs, just a shift forward and the sounds of their breathing-
And his heart pounds loud and heavy in his ears.
Kyuhyun slams the watch down onto the desk, miraculously breaking neither, and spins to take two paces across the floor, stopping in the middle of his room. Face flushed, he rubs at the back of his too-warm neck. He's late for class. Where's his music? What time is it? The seconds ticking by - it's always sound that registers first - and the look on Sungmin's face (an expression not quite like anything he's seen before), the look on his own face (so that's how it is when...). That was the first time he's ever been in one of the visions, and it was...weird. Two points of view felt, remembered, and of course this one won't conveniently fade away like evaporating mist. Too close, too hot, Kyuhyun whirls and stares disbelievingly at the innocuous timepiece.
"It's just a watch," he tries to convince himself in notes of despair, approaching the desk. He doesn't lift his hand to touch it - he hasn't been able to replay any visions and most people consider it impossible, but now isn't the time to test the odds.
Time. Class. He's going crazy; this has to be what it's like to go crazy. There's the music, wedged between a folder and a textbook. Kyuhyun plucks it out, muttering under his breath how Sungmin makes him late even when he's not around, which seems completely unfair since Kyuhyun isn't getting compensated this time.
He squeezes his eyes shut at the responding flash of heat and the thud inside his ribcage. Maybe he needs another few moments to calm down. Maybe if he thinks about their last meeting. Kyuhyun can't actually recall the details anymore and suspects he doesn't want to, and it isn't likely to sneak up on him unless he learns how to hold his heart in his hand. He thinks of it in Sungmin's hand instead, the beat under his palm like the pulse that would quicken beneath his lips and tongue. The neck, the wrist, the inside of the elbow; all of the places where blood flows close to the surface, tantalizingly within reach. Kyuhyun understands the full extent of the temptation now, the hyper-awareness, and yet Sungmin never bit him. Even when Kyuhyun wouldn't have minded. Wanted it. Was greedy, wanting more than Sungmin was willing to give. He'd been so scared to risk what he did have, but then he risked it anyway. Gambled, lost.
Kyuhyun faces the door and reaches out with a resigned hand. He doesn't open it, he turns the lock instead. The music is left in a flutter of paper on the desk next to the watch, and he must be selfish still, keeping these remnants no matter how accidental they are. The past is coded into his system. He can't forget, can't turn away, it's time to stop running or run faster, and he's can't go any faster without going insane.
For a single, terrifying moment, Kyuhyun stands there in the middle of the room, listening to his own breathing and asking himself, What am I doing here?
It's about music (no, that was a bonus).
It's about moving on (now that's funny).
It's about being hurt (oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself).
Three strikes. Out.
* * * * *
Kyuhyun is willing to admit that he's done some stupid things in his twenty years of life. When he was thirteen, he got in a fight with a really big, really nasty fifteen-year-old while trying to impress a girl, and wound up with a black eye. At sixteen, he and his friends took a trip to New York where he got lost, and then got robbed. After the accident, he broke into his aunt's liquor cabinet, and sometime during the alcohol-induced haze he scribbled down lyrics on a scrap of wonderfully-cliché tear-stained paper. He fell in love with a vampire. He's still in love with a vampire. He has uncontrollable psychic powers. His life is an angsty teenage romance novel, a thriller, and a sci-fi story all rolled into one.
Yet here he is, stupidly sneaking into the dining hall well after midnight.
He asks himself for the billionth time if it would be better to just say something to someone, to dump the info on someone else and see what happens. Maybe nothing would happen. Would he be all right with that?
His footsteps slow with responsibility, then speed up again, quietly crossing the floor. The place is dark; it's been closed since nine o'clock, but he can see well enough without aid. Kyuhyun checks the kitchens first. There are rows of refrigerators and he goes through them all, recalling the image of what he's looking for.
The vision came without a splitting migraine (for once) that morning from the girl sitting near him in Lit. class. She dropped her book and he handed it back, the tips of their fingers brushed, and he heard the scrape-slide of something being pushed over a surface. A burst of cool air, dim early-morning light, the clatter and rattle of crates being moved off a truck. A large cooler in the girl's arms where she stood behind the truck, away from the others. She set it down, ran her fingertips over the bumpy lid before opening it, and nodded quickly in satisfaction. Blood bags were piled within, the kind you see hooked up to people in hospitals, not at all like the mislabeled cartons and jugs that are usually delivered.
"Tell Vince to send more next time," she said in a hushed undertone to the hovering man in the nondescript uniform. "He has more supporters than he thinks."
Then the book had been tugged free from Kyuhyun's hand and he spent the rest of the class sneaking glances at the girl, imagining her drinking from one of those bags. Either pouring its contents into a glass and mingling with everyone else, or just puncturing it with her teeth and tossing her head back, mouth open.
He could have gone straight to Yoochun and informed him about it, as he'd been requested. Or he could have gone to Ryeowook and Yesung instead. But he doesn't like the divide that's now become apparent to him, the pro- and anti-Vince camps. Kyuhyun doesn't even know who this guy is, aside from either a genius or a psycho.
He also doesn't like the possibility that Vince is in the City... And there he becomes conflicted over why it matters to him, so he shoves it into the back of his mind and focuses on the task at hand. Hello, curiosity. Killed any cats lately?
Kyuhyun shuts the last refrigerator door softly, standing there puzzled. No bags found yet, and none of the usual containers looked unusual. They had to be marked somehow - he'd think everyone would notice if their morning cup of pig blood turned out to be human. He looks around for the cooler next. It's medium-sized, and the color is...blue, he thinks. Dark blue with a white lid. He's getting a little better at remembering what he sees.
What if she took it to another building? he wonders after fruitless searching. It could be in her room for all he knows. Maybe he should try talking to her...
Oh, this is ridiculous.
Kyuhyun leans against a wall and breathes out a sigh. What does he think he's doing? Playing detective isn't going to do him any good at all, it's just another distraction, and he has class in the morning. Forget it. Maybe he'll tell both sides about what he saw.
He steps away from the wall when the door next to him bursts open, nearly flattening him as it bounces inches from his elbow. The patter of rain and a chilly gust of air sweep in from outside where the loading station is. Kyuhyun stands frozen as the door swings closed, leaving a figure in its wake. The person turns to him
"What are you doing here?" says a surprised, unfamiliar voice, and Kyuhyun may be able to see better in the dark than a human, but he can only make out the vague outline of features on the man's face.
"What are you doing here?" Kyuhyun counters, slightly offended, because at least he came in through the normal entrance.
"I just arrived," the man answers easily, casting about the kitchen before heading towards the refrigerators. "And I could use a drink. You too?"
"Yeah," he agrees, grasping onto the excuse. It's sort of true, anyway. In a sense.
The light from within the fridge illuminates the stranger's profile for a moment, revealing young features before the door shuts. There's a pause afterwards as he looks around again, hefting the full carton, then walks purposefully to where the cups are stored. He moves with remembered familiarity with the place.
"You're a student, aren't you?" The blood is poured into a tall plastic cup and offered.
"Yeah," Kyuhyun monosyllabically repeats, hand reaching out to grasp the sides of the cup and - hell, it's worth a try - brush against slightly cold fingers. This probably won't work twice in one day, with his luck-
The clanging of bells is deafening, challenged only by violent gusts of wind. One hand scrabbling against roof tiles, the other locked around a white wrist where a body hangs limply, but there's laughter-
"You know," the man shouts over the rest of the noise, and he strains, pulls. He sounds so calm but his heart is racing, he's panting lightly, a drop of sweat slides down the side of his face that he can't afford to shake off like he can't afford to blink even when the air is drying his eyes and the image of the person he's holding onto is going fuzzy and that's not good so- Blink. He wets his dry, cracked lips. "The view won't be so great when you hit the ground."
Black hair whips across a bright-eyed face and his smile catches the rays of sun spilling through the clouds just above their heads. The height is incredible, dizzying, and the world seems like it will spin out of control any minute. Down below the dangling feet are people crowding the steps of the building, unaware of what's going on. The bells finally stop and he pitches his voice.
"It's easy, Yunho. Just keep holding on."
"What do you think I'm made of?" His free arm wraps around the base of the cross that tops the cathedral and he uses that as leverage. The other man deigns to help when he is able to reach the ledge with his other hand, and together they drag him up.
Yunho rolls over onto his back, limbs spread flat on the sharp slant of the roof, and he catches his breath, eyes squinting at the sun. His one hand hasn't released the other's wrist, grip painful, but no complaint is forthcoming. "God," he addresses the sky with the shadow of the cross falling into line next to him. "Please increase Jaejoong's dosage of common sense. He promises to use it responsibly."
Jaejoong grins and his lips move, uttering something low and laughing, and Yunho is simply breathless-
Kyuhyun sucks in a breath like he hasn't breathed in forever. His head swims in the aftermath.
"Hey, are you...?" A note of hesitation and concern. The man - Yunho - reaches out a tentative hand.
"I..." Kyuhyun's own hand flies to his face, and there on his upper lip... He flicks his tongue, but the smell is confirmation enough: his nose is bleeding. "Damnit!"
Yunho goes to the sink, searching around for a towel that he hands over. "Here. Are you all right?"
"Peachy," he replies in a slightly nasal tone, dabbing at his nose and thinking how creepy it is to recognize the scent of your own blood and relate it to food. Kyuhyun waits for the usual question, but it doesn't come. Of course, Yunho wouldn't know about his retrocognition, but he doesn't seem inclined to pry, either. Kyuhyun shifts awkwardly.
"Think you'll be all right heading back?" Yunho asks, turning on the faucet and washing out the cups.
"I'll manage." Kyuhyun turns and takes three steps before spinning around again. "Um, and thank you."
"Take care."
* * * * *
"Yoochun isn't in," a voice informs from behind, and Kyuhyun stops with his fist raised in mid-air to knock. He lowers it sheepishly, turning around. One of the guys from lunch that time, the classmate whose name he finally remembers - Zhou Mi - is standing there with the other friend (what was his name again - Geng?).
"Oh. Well-"
"I bet I know where he is though," Zhou Mi insinuates with a quirk of his brows. The other murmurs something low and rapid in Chinese next to Zhou Mi's ear, but he only shakes his head. "Nah, it's fine. Kyuhyun, try room 34. Take the stairs down and turn right at the hall."
"Thanks." He leaves with the feeling that both pairs of eyes are on him.
Kyuhyun had woken up in the morning feeling like a train had driven through his skull. Apparently, he really had been pushing his luck yesterday. He skipped his first class and suffered through the second, then while he was forcing food into his stomach he came to the decision that he should tell Yoochun about the delivery after all. It's better than doing nothing, and he's obviously useless on his own. He feels better now, well into the afternoon, but there's still an insistent ache behind his temples. He avoids touching anything with his bare skin at all costs.
The moment he arrives at room 34, someone from inside complains, "Would you quit whispering? The precogs have seen this coming for ages. This is the worst conspiracy ever." The voice strikes a familiar chord, and it only takes Kyuhyun a second to match it with an image: dark, wind-swept hair dusting a pale face, arm stretched above his head, whole body dangling hundreds of feet in the air.
"They also predicted the school would blow up two years ago," Yoochun interjects, and Kyuhyun can easily picture the grin on his face.
"Fine." And that's Yunho's unruffled tone. "Look, you know why I'm here. Don't do this."
"Do you really think I have a choice?" Jaejoong asks with a lilt to his question, which borders on playful.
"Yes," Yunho says with Yoochun's, "No," immediately following.
"Yunho," Jaejoong says, and this time he sounds firm. "If you were in my position, you couldn't refuse either."
There's a pause, and Yoochun translates the lack of response. "He probably wants to say that he and you are totally different cases, but then you'd kick his ass."
"Damn straight."
Kyuhyun stands silently next to the door, back pressed to the wall. This is definitely something he shouldn't be listening to, but he's not nearly enough of a conscience-minded person to just walk away. He chalks it up as Stupid Thing #7.
"Listen to you two," and Yunho may have sighed. "Tell them to find someone else. Jaejoong, the only thing you could lead is lemmings off a cliff."
"So help me out."
This time Yunho's sigh is practically explosive. "It's never as easy as you think it is. If all you wanted was to off Vince, whatever, I still regret not getting him in Newark. But don't take his place."
"You know, Yunho... Jaejoong has basically been running this school for years now. He's more capable than you think." Kyuhyun allows himself to be surprised by how natural Yoochun's sincerity is. He's never heard that kind of warmth from the guy before, but the edge comes right back when he adds, "Besides, I have Vince covered."
"Yunho..." Jaejoong's voice quiets, and Kyuhyun ends up leaning to press his ear to the door without thinking. "It can be this easy if you don't make it difficult."
"I make things difficult? I- Okay, I can't help you with this, Jaejoong. You know I can't, I already-"
"That is so typical of you." Jaejoong goes abruptly derisive, words precise and scathing. "The poor, conflicted dhampir. Yunho, will you ever learn to just drop the baggage and do what's right?"
"Watch me. Dropping it now."
"You sonofa- What, are you going to the City now to tattle on me to Shiwon?"
"Just don't get yourself killed, Jaejoong."
Kyuhyun leaps back as the door is flung open with a sense of déjà vu, pressing himself back against the wall and praying to become a chameleon. No such luck. Yunho spots him at once and he's... Yeah, he's pissed. Kyuhyun can't do anything except imitate a deer caught in the road. A very guilty deer.
Yunho just looks at him with a series of emotions making their presence known on his face: anger first of all, then his eyes widening in surprise and recognition, narrowing along with a scowl, finally closing for a brief moment as he shakes his head. His hand cups around Kyuhyun's shoulder, pulling him away from the wall and guiding him down the hall. Yunho's mouth is tight-lipped, but he doesn't sound especially mad when he asks neutrally, "So how are you feeling?"
"Um. Been better," he answers honestly around his dry throat.
"Well..." Yunho tilts his head from side to side, like he's sorting out words in his head and rejecting everything he comes up with. Eventually he has to give it up as a loss. "I guess that's it, then. Be careful, kid."
"Are you really going to the City?" The question practically has wings from the way it bursts out of Kyuhyun's mouth, frantic and confused.
Yunho is quiet for a moment. He takes a deep breath, lets it out. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am."
The world feels like it's slowly tipping, and Kyuhyun is starting to slide. "I know Shiwon," he puts in, and that must have turned on a faucet because the words just babble out from there. "I mean, I've met him a few times. And I've been hearing all this stuff, but I don't think... But that doesn't even matter and I probably don't even care. Why am I here, really?"
He poses the question to himself harshly. It's not about music, it's not about moving on, and it's only partly about being hurt. So he was hurt, so what? He's been hurt before. But he's never been so- (scared-attached-helpless-lost) Kyuhyun has never been good at finding the right words, but since when did he stop trying?
"I think I came for all the wrong reasons. I probably can't undo that- I mean, no, I definitely can't, but I..."
...Need to face this, need to get up and try, try again, need to hold on this time, need to go-
"I think I need to go back."
end
Sorry for the long wait again! You all probably know how hectic this time of year is. Uh, but Cityverse's six-month anniversary is coming up in May and we have something new planned? :D;
I've been promising exciting plot developments for a while, right? Here they are, along with a veritable horde of new faces. Yunho, by the way, was mentioned (but not named) in Sungmin's backstory. "[Sungmin] keeps up to date on gossip, but he's never heard of vampires teaming up with hunters, and there's even a young half-breed as part of the hastily-gathered group." A dhampir is half-human, half-vampire, and there's more than one in our cast.
Translation of the title: enter all ye who seek knowledge. It's from Buffy. XD; There are about a billion and one references to all sorts of things in this installment.
Lastly, you know how Sungmin's song was Keep Moving by Ivy? Kyuhyun's corresponding song is Tess Don't Tell. One day I'll probably just make a soundtrack for them.
"All this time, it's still on your mind. You've got to learn to have faith sometimes.
Careful now, when the truth comes out, you'll be gone-
You're the one he depends on."