[Ikon; Jinhwan/Junhwe] Ground Zero (2/3)

[concordances]

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The boy who’s been watching Yunhyeong for the better part of the night looks like someone who might have attended lectures with him at university- intelligent eyes and a sharp face, matching Yunhyeong in age or maybe a year below. He’s one among a large group that had walked into the restaurant just after seven, making so much noise that Yunhyeong’s sister had rolled her eyes as she’d walked past to deliver a plate of meat to the next table. Over the course of his studies, Yunhyeong had grown used to the occasional bit of attention from girls in his classes; it’s probably for this reason that, half out of habit, he winks at the boy when no one is looking.

He has to suppress a grin at the shock that passes over the boy’s face. The boy looks away, and Yunhyeong doesn’t think more about it for the rest of his shift. He doesn’t have the time to, what with the number of tables he has to serve- the week between Christmas and New Year is always an especially busy period, when he and his sister have to give their parents an extra hand around the restaurant.

The rowdy group is the last of the night to leave. Yunhyeong tells the other wait staff to go ahead home, promises that he’ll clear the remaining mess and lock up the place. When he finally steps out to the reception area after changing out of his uniform, legs aching and backpack slung over his shoulder, the boy from before is waiting for him. He looks uneasy, which does nothing to ease Yunhyeong’s own apprehension.

“Uh, hi,” says the boy, rubbing his hands together awkwardly. “I’m not here to take up your time, or anything like that. I just wanted to say sorry.”

Yunhyeong raises an eyebrow. “For?”

The boy blinks. “For… Wait, don’t you recognise me? It’s me, Donghyuk- Oh.” He reaches up and pulls his glasses off his face, folding the black frames in his hands and looking up at Yunhyeong expectantly.

Yunhyeong still doesn’t recognise the person standing in front of him, nor does he recognise his name. There’s a chance Donghyuk had eaten at their restaurant and introduced himself in the past, though, so Yunhyeong decides to go along with it in the same of customer service.

“Oh,” Yunhyeong says. “Don’t worry about it.”

To his relief, Donghyuk looks relieved. He shoves his frames back onto his face carelessly and flashes Yunhyeong a wobbly smile. “I also wanted to say thanks. I realised I never did before, and… Yeah. I owe that much to you.”

If he weren’t confused before, Yunhyeong definitely is now. For someone he doesn’t remember, Donghyuk sure seems to know a lot about this supposed history they share. Which is all very well, except Yunhyeong isn’t the type to forget people so easily. He knows the name of everyone who’s been a regular at the restaurant in the last two years.

Donghyuk doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss. “If you want, maybe I could buy you coffee?” he ventures, a little obliviously. He must notice Yunhyeong’s frown, because he throws up his hands, almost defensive. “Not now. I mean some other time. When it’s less cold. And also less dark.”

It seems like an innocent enough invitation. Yunhyeong casts his eyes upwards, as if considering the offer, but takes the opportunity to scan the ceiling for any hidden cameras. When this proves futile, he looks back at Donghyuk, who appears to be eagerly awaiting an answer. This whole situation is too much like a B-grade drama for his liking. Yunhyeong narrows his eyes. “Sorry, but I don’t actually know you very well…”

Donghyuk looks stricken. “I don’t mean like a date, I just wanted- I thought- You know what. Nevermind. Forget I said anything.” With a flustered noise, he turns around, wrenches the door to the restaurant open, and disappears into the night.

After the door shuts, Yunhyeong stares at it for a good minute, pondering the absurdity of the encounter. He would have pondered it for longer, too, except Donghyuk comes back after the minute is up, seemingly having changed his mind.

“Actually,” Donghyuk says, not even having the grace to look embarrassed. “Just let me get this off my chest. When are you free for coffee?”

Which is how Yunhyeong ends up sitting across him two days later, in a coffee shop several blocks from the restaurant. Turning Donghyuk down would have been impolite, Yunhyeong reminds himself. It’s not his fault that Donghyuk is now just sitting in front of him, looking pensive and sad. Yunhyeong is past trying to understand him at this point.

“You know,” Donghyuk says abruptly. “I was hung up over it for a long time. All I could think of was that if I’d done something differently, maybe… I don’t know. Maybe Junhwe wouldn’t have…” he sighs, eyes downcast.

Yunhyeong suddenly feels a lot more unsettled than he had previously. “You worked with Junhwe?”

Donghyuk nods. “In the same lab,” he says. “His space was right next to mine. We had lunch breaks together.”

Yunhyeong recalls, almost too vividly, reading about the explosion for the first time. Heart thudding painfully in his chest, not daring to believing his eyes as he scanned through the list of the deceased. Koo Junhwe. The very same Koo Junhwe he had once done most of his lab work with, who hated morning lectures and always had something to say about the university’s fast food. Who decided in his second year that he would make it to a prestigious research company, but still spent more time texting Jinhwan than listening in class.

Yunhyeong had gone to the funeral, far too late to regret a petty fight between them. Far too late to wish he’d been a better friend. As expected, Jinhwan had been uncontactable by phone, and impossible to talk to in person- Hanbin and Bobby never seemed to leave his side, standing on either side of him like bodyguards.

Yunhyeong distracts himself from those thoughts by trying to connect the dots, to figure out the significance of Donghyuk knowing Junhwe to Donghyuk knowing him. But it’s like trying to assemble a puzzle with only half the pieces.

“But I think I’m better now,” Donghyuk continues. “I’m getting better. I still feel like- But maybe things happen for a reason. I don’t know. I can’t imagine how Jinhwan must’ve felt.”

Yunhyeong looks up so quickly that his neck cricks. “You know Jinhwan?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuk is looking at him, head tilted. “I mean, sort of. He was there on the day of the accident. Didn’t you know that?”

Yunhyeong shakes his head, trying to process the information. “What was he doing there?”

Donghyuk looks thoughtful. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I never found out.”

Yunhyeong is saying something. His mouth is moving, but Jinhwan isn’t listening to whatever he’s trying to tell him. All he hears is I’m here to save you. Another bombshell dropped. Another impossibility to add to the already long list of impossibilities he’d encountered that day.

He struggles to find some sort of equilibrium, to make sense of the situation. Something, anything, to account for this new development, to prove that he isn’t going completely insane. This is what it feels like to lose it, he realises, in a moment of dissociation. This is what it’s like to have a breakdown.

Jinhwan doesn’t know what’s going on. Who’s supposed to be saving who. How to ensure that Junhwe will be okay.

Maybe he sways, because he sees Yunhyeong move forward, almost reflexively, to steady him. There’s worry in his eyes, and- is that pity? It makes Jinhwan feel weak. Jinhwan is older than Yunhyeong, he’s supposed to be the one deciding what they should do next.

Strangely, it’s the sense of obligation that snaps him out of it, makes him start pulling himself together. Bobby had always called him the responsible one. Jinhwan shouldn’t be thinking pessimistically and planning for worst-case scenarios, he can’t afford to give up now. No one is going to make sure Junhwe is safe, if not him.

At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter who the accident killed, in which version of reality. The aim is to prevent it from happening entirely.

“Jinhwan,” Yunhyeong is saying. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

“Did you know about Junhwe’s research?” Jinhwan asks. To his relief, his voice doesn’t waver. “Is that how you got here?”

Yunhyeong’s expression is guarded. When he opens his mouth to explain, he doesn’t quite meet Jinhwan’s eye. “I guess you could say that. I wrote some of it. At least, I did in the earlier stages. It was something we started working on together.”

The news doesn’t incapacitate Jinhwan, so maybe he’s already getting better at this. He pushes aside the flood of questions that come to mind, among them what happened after? and why didn’t Junhwe ever tell me about it?, choosing instead to focus on what’s ahead. Every minute wasted is a minute that could be spent trying to find the source of the accident.

“Let’s go,” Jinhwan says, and for the first time since morning, he feels like he- they- can succeed. “Let’s figure out how to stop this. We only have-” He checks the time on his phone, heart dropping a little. It’s already well past ten. “We’re running out of time.”

Yunhyeong’s eyes flash. “Have you been listening to me at all?” He takes a step so that he’s between Jinhwan and the door, as if ready to stop Jinhwan bodily from leaving the stairwell if he has to. “I’m not letting you go back out there. It’s too dangerous.”

Jinhwan frowns, takes a half-step back. “That’s why you’ll help me, right?”

The guilty look on Yunhyeong’s face is decidedly a bad sign. He raises a hand to scratch the back of his head. “Actually,” he says. “I can’t do that. I talked to a number of people on this floor, trying to figure out where Junhwe would be. Someone realised I don’t work here. They might or might not be looking for me as we speak.”

Jinhwan stares at him, at a loss for words.

“Stupid, I know,” Yunhyeong admits. “But I won’t be any help stopping whatever set off the explosion. And you can’t go out there alone. You might- You don’t know what will happen.”

Something in Jinhwan flares up, a sharp retort ready on his tongue. For someone who had majored in science, Yunhyeong seems to have adopted a particularly short-sighted view on the matter. But the sensible part of Jinhwan knows he won’t convince Yunhyeong of anything this way, not by losing his temper. Objectivity and logic are the way to go.

“Let’s say I don’t go out there,” Jinhwan says, voice carefully even. “Let’s say I stay away. I walk out of this building right now. What happens then?”

And it’s that easy. Yunhyeong’s hesitation before he answers is palpable. “We never tested this- the time jumping. At least, I never did. I couldn’t tell you what would happen, not for sure.”

“So you don’t know,” Jinhwan concludes. “You don’t know because you don’t know how this time travel thing really works. Both of us are here now, which means anything could happen, right? I’ve had this conversation with you, so I’ll be extra careful.” Jinhwan doesn’t like to feel like he’s manipulating anyone, but this is an unusually desperate situation. He looks Yunhyeong square in the eye, making sure to inject a slight tremble into his voice. “I have to stop the accident, Yunhyeong. It’s the only way to be absolutely sure nothing happens to Junhwe. I have to try.”

It’s a miracle he manages to pull it off, considering how little control he seems to have had over his situation thus far. Yunhyeong sighs, resigned. “Junhwe’s evaluation is straight down the hall, in lab 7-G. It’s meant to start at half past ten.” He takes a long, hard look at Jinhwan. “If anything goes wrong, make sure you get the hell out of here.”

“I will,” Jinhwan promises. He moves for the door, and Yunhyeong steps aside.

“What about you?” Jinhwan asks. “What are you going to do now?”

Yunhyeong looks towards the stairs. “I’ll look for Junhwe,” he says. “I’ll try and make sure nothing happens to him. Be careful, Jinhwan.”

Jinhwan nods and steps back out into the seventh floor hallway. After the relative isolation of the stairwell, the feeling of being reconnected to the real world, with people going about their work and talking as they pass through the hallway, is a bit of a shock. Jinhwan tries to calm the anxiety coursing through him. He’s not doing anything wrong by being here. Not really.

The first thing he does is walk to the end of the hall and look out the window. The main road is visible from this vantage point, along with a view of everything East of the PlanTech facility. Not too far away is the patch of green where the employees had gathered on the day of the accident.

Hand to the glass, Jinhwan catches sight of a dark smudge colouring his wrist, and is momentarily distracted. It extends halfway down his inner forearm- A bruise, Jinhwan realises. He hadn’t noticed it there before, doesn’t remember hitting his arm against anything hard enough to produce a mark like that.

But it’s not important right now. Back to the task at hand.

There’s an unusually large tree next to the grass patch, one that seems familiar- Jinhwan must have passed it when he’d been wandering the area. He reverses the image in his mind, tries to recall what the building had looked like when he had observed it from the ground. Debris everywhere, the corner of the fourth floor blown out.

Lab 7-G is the last along the stretch of hallway, closest to where Jinhwan is standing. From the outside, it looks identical to every other lab on the floor. Jinhwan pauses for a moment at the door, taking a moment to gather himself. He still has no real plan, but at least now he knows he’s not completely alone in this. If Donghyuk and Yunhyeong succeed, it might not even matter whether or not Jinhwan does.

The time displayed on his phone reads two minutes to ten-thirty. Jinhwan raises his hand to the door and knocks.

“So pretend you’re on a yacht,” Bobby is saying, his chopsticks pointed at Junhwe. “With Jinhwan, your mother, your, uh, roommate, and… Hanbin. And then, by some crazy stroke of misfortune, all four of them fall overboard at the same time. Who do you jump in and save first?”

Junhwe looks extremely put-upon. Jinhwan is torn between laughing at the ridiculousness of the pseudo-interrogation, and jumping in to save him from his suffering. Bobby’s attempts to provoke some kind of a reaction out of Junhwe had almost worked initially, when Junhwe had still been intimidated, his heart set on making a good first impression. By now, Junhwe seems to have realised that nothing within the boundaries of ordinary behaviour is going to score him a place in either of Jinhwan’s friends’ hearts. That, or he’s decided Bobby is an idiot.

Next to Bobby, Hanbin snorts into his soup. It’s like the two of them have some “Bad Cop, Good Cop” routine going on, except Hanbin is less Good than Entirely Unhelpful.

“I can’t swim,” Junhwe says.

Bobby looks disappointed, before the grin finds its way back onto his face. “Hypothetically, though? I mean, you’re not just going to stand there. You can have a life buoy, if you want. Just one.”

“Fine,” Junhwe fidgets in his seat. “Jinhwan, then.”

Bobby looks shocked. “You’re not going to save your mom?”

“She can swim,” Junhwe argues. “Really well. I know she can.”

“Hanbin,” interjects Hanbin. “The right answer is Hanbin.”

“But you don’t know if Jinhwan can swim?” Bobby asks, incredulous. “Do you know Jinhwan’s last name?”

Junhwe looks like he’s trying hard not to roll his eyes, despite the faint tinge of pink now colouring his cheeks. His hand is resting on the bench between them, and Jinhwan reaches over to give it an apologetic squeeze.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Jinhwan grins. “This isn’t productive. You,” he says, looking pointedly at Bobby. “Stop asking questions. Eat your food.”

“But how will we know if his intentions are good?” Bobby exclaims, waving his chopsticks around and narrowly avoiding disfiguring Hanbin, who appears more invested in the meat on his plate than the conversation at hand. “How will we be sure he loooves you?”

Junhwe flushes red. “Washroom,” he announces as he stands abruptly, extricating his hand from Jinhwan’s grasp, if a little reluctantly.

As he trudges towards the back of the restaurant and out of earshot, the shit-eating grin plastered across Bobby’s face changes into something softer.

“You say you share a class with this kid?” he asks, leaning in conspiratorially. “Does he always look that pissed?”

“No,” Jinhwan answers, taking advantage of Junhwe’s absence to put more food on the latter’s plate. “It’s just because of you.”

Bobby looks satisfied.

Hanbin shrugs. “I kind of like him.”

Bobby rounds on him. “Why, because you’ve finally found someone who eats more than you? You're still the bigger pig, by the way. It’s about pace, not  quantity.” He leans back in his seat and crosses his arms, giving Hanbin a pointed look.

“Anyone who doesn’t get along with him,” Hanbin jerks his head in Bobby’s direction, “is worth keeping around.” The words are directed at Jinhwan, and Bobby immediately sits back up.

“I think Junhwe needs a little work,” he announces. “He’s alright, but I think with the right kind of training, he might not be such a killjoy-”

“What does it matter what you think?” Hanbin shoots.

Bobby blinks. “What is the point of us gathering here,” he says, drawing out the words. “If not to find out what I think about Junhwe?”

“You invited us,” Jinhwan teases. “In fact, you made us clear our schedules for this. We were promised a free meal.”

The banter carries on for a bit. Jointly, Hanbin and Bobby polish off a full serving of meat, and when Junhwe still hasn’t returned by the end of it, Jinhwan gets up to go check on him.

The washroom at the back of the restaurant is no more than a single unisex cubicle. The door swings open when Jinhwan knocks.

“Were you planning on coming back?” Jinhwan asks, trying to keep a straight face.

Junhwe looks perfectly fine, if a little embarrassed. “Uh… Yes?” he tries.

“Is it Bobby?” Jinhwan asks, more gently this time. “He’s always like that with new people, he doesn’t mean any harm. Just go along with it.”

Junhwe nods, a show of compliance, but Jinhwan can read him better than that. “They like you,” Jinhwan assures him. “This isn’t a test, it’s more of a… formality. And even if they didn’t approve, they’d have no say.”

Junhwe seems to perk up at this. “Really?” he asks.

At times like these, Jinhwan is reminded that Junhwe is a whole three years younger than him. Not insecure, exactly, but less experienced. The difference is less magnified in other areas- Junhwe is, Jinhwan is sure, a good three years ahead of him when it comes to science.

“Yes,” Jinhwan laughs, taking Junhwe’s hand to lead him back to the table. “Really.”

“Come in,” says a voice. It belongs to a man who appears to be in his mid-thirties, who looks up from the clipboard he’s holding as Jinhwan enters the lab. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, dark circles weighing down his eyes, hair hanging limp over his forehead. Jinhwan feels like he can relate.

“Koo Junhwe?” the man asks.

Jinhwan fingers the work pass hanging from his neck, photo face-down. “Yes.”

The man, who must be Junhwe’s evaluation supervisor, nods his acknowledgement. Jinhwan shuffles deeper into the lab, trying to observe the equipment as discreetly as possible. Some of it is basic enough for Jinhwan to recognise from his days at university, but a lot of it isn’t. Assortments of gadgets and small machines litter the room. More pressingly, in cabinets along two of the four walls of the lab-

Jinhwan draws in a breath.

The supervisor seems to notice. “This used to be the main lab for chemical physics,” he explains, gesturing towards all the different bottles of chemicals lining the walls. “It moved upstairs, but some of the stuff is still leftover. Doesn’t matter, though. This lab works perfectly fine as a regular one.”

This is where the accident happens, Jinhwan thinks. As long as there are chemicals in the room, any small mishap could end in a blast. If only there were some way to have the lab shut down for the day, or cordoned off…

And then an idea comes to him. Jinhwan needs to get out of the room, set off the fire alarm. Get everyone safely out of the building. A flimsy plan, but worth a shot.

“Koo Junhwe?” says the supervisor. “Are you ready for your evaluation?”

And then there’s the question of how to get out without raising any suspicion. “Uh,” Jinhwan starts. His palms are slick with sweat. “Actually, I-”

“Don’t be nervous,” the supervisor says, looking as though he wants nothing more than for this to be over quickly. It sounds more like the start of a script he’d memorised than a genuine offer of reassurance. “Standard safety protocol applies, I’m sure you’ve been briefed about what you’ll be doing. It’s pretty simple. You pass this and you’re all set, for another six months at least.”

Jinhwan glances towards the door. Should he run for it, explain himself later? Would doing something like that hurt Junhwe’s reputation?

“The setup’s over on that table,” The supervisor is saying. “I wanted to do a test round before you came in, so everything is on and running, but you’ll be doing your own-”

He’s interrupted by a knock at the door. Jinhwan’s blood runs cold.

“What the- does nobody know that this lab is- come in,” the supervisor calls.

The head that sticks itself around the door doesn’t belong to Junhwe. Instead, it belongs to a young woman with short hair tucked behind her ears, and a playful quirk to her lips. Jinhwan feels himself  sag in relief.

“Sorry to disturb,” the woman chirps. Her cheerfulness is jarring; Jinhwan had almost forgotten that this building is full of normal people, going about normal lives. The idea of someone having a good day probably shouldn’t be so surprising. “Head of the department wants to see you for a moment, Dr. Kwon. Something about lab maintenance. Says it’s urgent.”

The supervisor- Dr. Kwon- looks exasperated. “Noted, thanks.” He goes over to the desk at the front of the lab and sets his clipboard down. “I’ll be there in a minute.” The woman flashes a thumbs up and closes the door.

Dr. Kwon turns to Jinhwan. “Sorry, we’ll have to delay your evaluation a bit. Just… wait a little while for me to come back. I shouldn’t be long.” He takes a step towards the door, then doubles back, seeming to have remembered something. “Do me a favour and turn that off when it’s done,” he instructs, gesturing towards the evaluation setup. “It should be soon. But don’t stop it before then. Okay?”

Jinhwan nods weakly, eyeing the different components of the setup at the station. An assortment of coloured wires run from what look like containers of chemicals, connecting at multiple points to two different machines stacked atop one another on the bench.

Dr. Kwon leaves, door clicking shut behind him.

It’s the perfect time for Jinhwan to carry out his plan, to go outside and set off the fire alarm. But something draws him towards the bench, like a moth to a flame. An unexplainable bad feeling in his gut that grows with every step.

Up close, the setup looks even more impressive. Numbers flicker across the digital screens of the two machines- ammeter and voltmeter, Jinhwan identifies. Besides that, Jinhwan doesn’t know what the experiment is supposed to achieve, or when he’s meant to stop it. He hadn’t gotten to any of the classes on electrical circuits at university. High school physics doesn’t begin to explain all of this.

If Jinhwan’s limited physics knowledge serves him, there’s a sizeable amount of electricity running through the wires. The experiment seems to be the only one going on in the lab.

This is it, Jinhwan thinks. This is the source of the accident.

The time is ten thirty-nine. Jinhwan has minutes left, and he doesn’t know how many. He doesn’t want to touch the setup, not when he’d been told not to turn it off prematurely. And yet, leaving it alone would probably be equally likely to lead to an accident. What would Junhwe have done in this situation? What should Jinhwan do differently?

Junhwe would never have gone for help. Which means that’s probably what Jinhwan should do. But he doesn’t know how much time he has left, and the prospect of taking matters into his own hands seems simpler, somehow. Breaking the circuit would have to stop the current. No explosion, no deaths. He’ll finally have his life back.

Jinhwan raises a trembling hand to one of the wires, but then a thought crosses his mind: could halting the experiment, rather than leaving it alone, be what creates a lethal situation? A malfunction that would set off an explosion?

He hesitates, and that’s when he sees it- one of the hanging wires with a segment of its casing worn and cracked, exposing the metal underneath. Every few seconds, a tiny spark shoots from the exposed section and falls, dissipating as it hits the floor.

There’s really no reason to panic, except that at last, Jinhwan is almost certain he’s looking at what caused the accident. He takes a few involuntary steps back and turns, with the intention of leaving the lab to find help. As he does, his leg connects with something hard.

Whatever it is knocks Jinhwan off-balance; he pitches forward, splaying his hands out at the last second to avoid colliding face-first with the linoleum. The rest of the shock is absorbed by his hip, sending a shooting pain up his side.

Jinhwan winces, clamps down on the cry that bubbles its way up his throat. Moments later, there’s a thump from behind him. Still on the ground, Jinhwan turns his head to see what he’d tripped over.

The container, about the size of water dispenser bottle, must have been placed near the wall- Jinhwan hadn’t seen the label, had hardly noticed it was there at all. Now, it’s toppled onto its side, the impact having appeared to have caused the lid to burst open. A clear liquid is pouring from the container, out onto the floor.

Jinhwan’s body reacts more quickly than his mind. He’s scrambling to his feet, ignoring the pain in his hip, before he can even register what’s happening. Up and onto the nearest bench. Out of reach of the spillage.

He watches in horror as the liquid spreads across the floor.

For a second, Jinhwan forgets what he’s supposed to be doing. A sharp, musty smell is filling the air, clouding his head. Then, with a jolt, he remembers. He looks back at the electrical setup, where a periodic spark bursts from the bit of exposed wire.

It happens in slow motion.

The spark floats downwards, like a leaf falling from a tree. Jinhwan traces its descent with his eyes, right to the point where it reaches the ground. The ground, which is now covered in the clear liquid.

The spark touches the liquid, and ignites into a flame of brilliant orange.

Not an explosion, but a fire. One that spreads across the lab just as the liquid had, rapid and threatening. Jinhwan leaps off the bench, nearly tripping over his own feet in his attempt to put as much distance as possible between himself on the fire. Deeper into the lab and further from the door. A good portion of the lab is now ablaze.

Jinhwan can barely breathe. And that’s when he realises he’d been wrong all along. Carelessness, negligence, the electrical setup, the liquid, the spark- they’d all been ingredients in the whole disaster, but none one of them had caused the accident.

He’d caused the accident.

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