Super Junior {Hankyung/Heechul ; Timeless (4/5)}
Title: Timeless (4/5)
Fandom: Super Junior (AU, !future)
Pairing: Hankyung/Heechul
Word count: 3,453
Rating: R
Summary: Heechul has just had the worst day ever, in the world. Honestly, he doesn't think that it could possibly get worse than this. That, however, is something that he'll come to regret articulating when he ends up a long way from home, in a world where life is a fight for survival.
A/N: :DDDDD? SEX. eats cereal.
Timeless (4/5)
Their days didn't seem to have much point to them. They just walked, in what seemed to Heechul confusing circles, always going back to the underground locker every week or so, usually longer. One day Hankyung went to the other side of the room and managed to find some clothes for Heechul to change into; a pair of khaki pants and a red tank top. He pushed them at Heechul, who thankfully peeled off his old clothes and changed. His jeans weren't made for hot weather, while his t-shirt now had an endless number of holes in it.
He wished he had a mirror. His hair was now falling down to his shoulders, sticking to the back of his neck during the day. Although Hankyung now took him more regularly to the pool to bathe, it didn't take long for the dust to build back up, and there was no doubt streaks of it across his cheeks. He fingered the ends of his hair, thinking that if this was back home, he'd be going mad because of the split ends. It was a complete mess, and Heechul's hair was never a mess.
He became aware of something dangling in his peripheral vision and glanced up to see Hankyung holding a black hair tie in front of him. "Where the hell did you get that?" he asked, taking it off him and gratefully pulling his hair back. Hankyung smiled at him and pushed the hat on his head again. Heechul winced; the inside was all cold from sweat. Then he scowled as Hankyung pulled on the end of his ponytail, and so missed the uncertain look Hankyung gave him.
Now whenever Hankyung took his hand, Heechul let his fingers curl just that little more, so that it was more akin to clinging than anything else. The last time he'd held hands with someone was his sister, when he was eight. He wasn't someone for public displays of affection, or at least had never seen the need in his previous relationships. He'd never held hands with his partners, never made them meals, never sat on sun-drenched grass in parks and made out. No, it had always -- he saw this now -- been more of a business transaction.
Hankyung made it easy to pretend that they were in a relationship, which was probably not what Heechul needed to think, but he couldn't help himself. Sometimes, as they walked down the middle of a street straight out of an apocalyptic film, he closed his eyes and tried to pretend that he was walking down the expensive shopping district in Seoul, holding Hankyung's hand and carrying a Starbucks latte in the other, whining about something or another, listening to Hankyung laugh at him, listen to him speak Korean. What would his voice be like, in Korean? How would he pronounce things? A Hankyung of his own world that he could be with. It would be different, with Hankyung; it wouldn't be about how he looked next to Heechul, how much he earned, where they ate at. It would be about eating instant noodles at 2AM because they couldn't sleep, it would be covering love bites with artistically placed scarfs, it would be walking down streets in their own little world.
Heechul wanted it so badly that it almost hurt.
Usually these fantasies ended with Heechul tripping on something on the ground and almost flying head over heels, Hankyung catching hold of him just in time. Hankyung seemed to have the reaction time of someone living a second in the future; he seemed to know instinctively what Heechul was going to do and reacted as he was doing it. It was impossible to sneak up on Hankyung -- not that Heechul had tried it, he got the feeling that shocking Hankyung would have tragic consequences. Hankyung always laughed at him after he'd fallen and it just didn't help.
Now when they slept, Heechul would lie on his side, Hankyung's chest against his back and his arm across his hips. It was more intimate than he really should have allowed but he liked it. He liked the way sometimes, Hankyung's nose would touch the base of his neck as he bent his head down to get it out of the cold. Heechul would cover Hankyung's fingers with his own and pretend that they were in his time, in bed together.
He couldn't remember when he got like that. He was always the one in control of his feelings, the one who could be cool, calm and utterly collected, but Hankyung threw him off, could leave his world tilting with a single smile. If this was what love was like, then Heechul was torn between annoyance and relief that he'd never experienced it before. All those relationships back home, the endless search for someone to be with; none of the people he'd gone out with had ever left him feeling like this. None of them had ever left his pulse racing, left him humming at every touch. Maybe, to begin with, there'd been some form of this feeling, but that had gone. Sexual attraction, cold satisfaction, was all he'd ever known.
He didn't miss Hwanghi. He barely even thought of Hwanghi, whose face had begun to fade over the third month, the fourth month, going into the fifth month. He did miss Siwon, though, who could surely only be missing him back. Did his friends believe him dead? What was he supposed to do once (if) he got back? He couldn't tell them that he'd been living in the future for five months, they'd think he was insane, or, more insane than they'd previously thought. Would Siwon be angry at him for disappearing? Siwon was rarely angry, but then Heechul had never disappeared for five months. Much as Heechul trusted Hankyung, it was Siwon who had always taken the role of his protector, even if it had pissed Heechul off a lot of the time. Sometimes, he kind of did want Siwon to be here; someone he could talk to, someone who he knew. Maybe, some day, he'd be able to teach Hankyung Korean -- if he never made it back.
Hankyung stopped, and when Heechul turned to look at him, confused, he said something and then touched underneath Heechul's eyes. Heechul flinched back, suddenly fearful that he'd begun to cry without even realising it. He never usually cried, so perhaps he wouldn't notice if he did start. He held his hand to his face. He wasn't crying. Hankyung looked at him solemnly. Heechul just stared back.
Hankyung hunched down, and in the dust, traced the figure of a woman. Looking up at Heechul curiously, he placed a hand over his heart. Heechul laughed a little; no, he wasn't sad because he missed the woman he loved. Women were not generally things that Heechul loved. Hankyung nodded, as his eyes suddenly took on that dark, unreadable expression that Heechul had seen a few times over the past few weeks; he realised now that it was sadness, grief, something Heechul had never experienced and so hadn't been able to recognise. Pointing to the figure, Hankyung placed his hand over his heart, and nodded.
"Oh," breathed Heechul, realising suddenly. Hankyung stood up slowly, staring at the crude drawing, and without looking up, put his hand to his stomach and then mimed it getting bigger. "Oh," repeated Heechul, voice flatter now. Still without looking at him, Hankyung took hold of Heechul's wrist and lifted it to his mouth, pretending to bite.
Heechul wrenched it back, not for fear that Hankyung would revert into being one of the monsters that had first attacked him, but because of the horror of what had just struck him. The woman that Hankyung had once loved, the woman who had carried his child -- and what kind of a place this was to carry a child, what sheer amazement he felt that something like that could happen in this world -- had been eaten by the other strangers who roamed this place. When Hankyung turned back towards him, he seemed broken somehow; he was not the person Heechul had witnessed for the past five months, the person who was always in control. How long ago had this been? Had Hankyung ever been able to grieve for her, really, in between his fights for survival on this terrain?
He hugged Hankyung, let his arms go around his waist without even really thinking about it. Hankyung was still for a minute, before he put his face against Heechul's neck. It looked slightly uncomfortable, and it left Heechul uncomfortable, but he didn't pull away. It was Hankyung who did that, smiling in a sad way and taking Heechul's hand again. This time, Heechul's grip was looser and yet more intimate.
It was strange how knowing that someone was actually capable of love changed your perceptions of them. Over the next couple of weeks, Heechul's feelings towards Hankyung took a rather terrifying twist; they became softer. Suddenly, it was less about being grateful to his rescuer, and about simply wanting his body (even though he still did). Heechul suddenly noticed the little habits Hankyung had, and each one left him with a strange, not-uncomfortable ache in his chest. He smiled around Hankyung. Perhaps it was easier because Hankyung didn't understand him. Heechul didn't have to pick through what he said in order to leave the greatest impression; usually this only left the sarcastic replies, the bitchy comments, the arrogance, the wit. Heechul could say anything he wanted, and not have to worry that Hankyung would think that he was weird; he didn't have to hide himself like he had with other people he had liked -- but never loved.
He realised by now that they weren't walking anywhere, that there was no final plan. It was just about moving. If Hankyung stayed in one place, listening to the wind, looking at the dirty, demolished houses, he would go mad, so Hankyung walked, to see what there was around him. Perhaps he walked in order to find people like Heechul, people he could take in and look after and have as company. Hankyung had grown up, no doubt, in this environment, so he was more used to it than Heechul, but even he needed someone there beside him. It was human nature, after all; you ganged together.
Hankyung was now taking him further and further out from where they had started, or so he thought, since he wouldn't have been able to make his own way back to the storeroom even if he had a map and a GPS. Still, Heechul thought that he had never seen these places before, never seen that piles of bricks, or that structure. On the day that he thought was the start of his sixth month in this world, they came across what must once have been an airport.
It seemed suddenly to loom up. A building that would once had been huge, now caved in on the left side. Beyond that lay the remains of airplanes, thought none of them like the kind that Heechul had ever seen before. Passenger planes too big to surely exist, and what could only have been army jets, most missing a wing or two. The destruction seemed far more awe-inspiring on this scale than the fading city had ever achieved.
In amongst the destruction, a sign remained intact. It was outside the building; they were on the side where newcomers to this place would have streamed out, on holiday, visiting friends, perhaps returning home. Nearing the sign, he spotted familiar letters, words written in his own tongue. With a happy cry, he pulled his hand from Hankyung's grasp and took off towards it. Hankyung shouted after him, chased after him, grabbed his hand again and held it tightly. Heechul could feel Hankyung's pulse racing in his fingertips, but didn't really notice, too busy staring at the sign.
It was written in many different tongues; the first, he recognised as Chinese. Underneath that, Japanese, then, Korean: Welcome to Beijing.
Beijing? He looked around him. Red dust, hard ground under that, buildings that were more rubble than anything else. This was Beijing? He had been to Beijing before, to visit Siwon when he was studying there. Beijing was a city, as alive with people and structure and society as Seoul was. If this was what Beijing was like in this time -- because only time could have done this much damage -- what was Seoul like?
"Beijing?" he asked Hankyung, who looked unsure. He pointed to the Chinese characters, and Hankyung simply looked blank. Of course he wouldn't be able to read; Heechul was being stupid. He motioned to the remains of what had once been a huge city, and repeated; "Beijing?"
"Ah!" said Hankyung, and then said something in his weird Mandarin. Heechul put on his best I don't know what the fuck you're saying face, an expression he'd had lots of time to work on since coming here. Dropping his hand, Hankyung mimed an explosion, complete with sound effects. Heechul couldn't help the voice in the back of his mind which noted how damn cute that was, even as he glanced around with renewed interest. A bomb had caused this destruction. A war, then. A war with who, about what? Who had won? Probably not China, judging by this. How did Hankyung know? Had it been in his lifetime? So many questions that he had no way of answering.
Hankyung touched him on the shoulder, and then hunkered down. He picked up some of the dust and let it fall through his fingers, then took his knife from his boot and mimed cutting his skin and spreading it over the ground. "Eh?" said Heechul, and then, "oh my fucking god! It's red because of -- that's disgusting." He started trying to brush all the dust from his clothing desperately, practically shrieking in horror. It wasn't attractive, but then he hadn't looked attractive since he'd arrived here. Besides, who cared about looking attractive when you were walking on dust coloured by blood?
Hankyung smiled at him, then stood up and took his jaw in his hands. Heechul fell still quickly, breath pausing for a moment before coming too quickly as Hankyung rubbed his thumbs over his cheeks, apparently trying to get some of the dust off his face. His touch softened until he was basically stroking Heechul's face. Heechul let his eyes drift closed once he noticed Hankyung's mouth coming closer, let his own mouth part in anticipation, felt Hankyung's breath on his lips --
A shift of rocks behind Hankyung had him releasing Heechul and flinging himself around, just in time to intercept the knife of a tall man with bloodlust written in every line of his face. Hankyung hit the ground hard, but flung the man over him with his legs. Unfortunately, although that man hit the ground with a sickening crack, there were more to take his place; two more, to be exact. The man that had first wounded Heechul was not there, and for a split second Heechul wondered what had happened to him -- was he eaten too? -- but then someone grabbed his arms from behind and yanked him backwards.
Hankyung was grappling with a woman on the ground, a woman who had only sheer adrenaline on her side, but plenty of it, as her knife kept coming down, trying to sink it into Hankyung. Hankyung snarled, and grabbed her by the hair and pulled her aside, but at Heechul's cry at being pulled backwards, Hankyung hesitated, took his eyes from her to look back at what was happening to Heechul, and the woman stabbed him in the arm.
The noise he made spurred Heechul into action. He brought his head back hard against the nose of the man holding him, something which hurt like hell but hurt the man more. He did it with enough force to hear the crack of bone breaking, and the man let him go in order to fall to the floor, holding his hands against the gush of blood. Hankyung, still lying on the floor, was trying to hold off the woman while also holding onto his wounded arm.
Heechul did the only thing he could think to do: he kicked the woman in the head. It was, if he did say so himself, a rather spectacular kick, the effect of it dampened slightly by the sound of her skull crunching, and the way she fell sideway against Hankyung, eyes wide and unseeing. Heechul stared, then turned and retched. No matter what she was trying to do to them, he had not meant to kill her.
A man suddenly jumped from the first floor window of a nearby building, landing on his feet like a cat and then running towards them. It was the man that had attacked Heechul; he knew the features but not the expression on his face, one of sheer despair and horror. Hankyung shoved the body off him and jumped to his feet as the man fell to his knees and pulled it close to him, hugging and crooning. Heechul, close to actually throwing up now, noticed the strange angle that the first man's head had taken; he was dead, too. He gagged, and then Hankyung had his hand and was pulling him, making him run.
They ran so far that Heechul could no longer see any sign of the airport which had so transfixed him. When Hankyung slowed, Heechul threw his arm from him and stumbled over to the side of one of the buildings to throw up, only he couldn't quite manage it, dry retching. The man who had been prepared to kill him had loved a woman. How could someone so cruel, someone willing to eat another human being, be capable of love? It made no sense.
Hankyung left him to make a base in the building. After a couple of minutes, Heechul spat on the ground and ducked into the building. Hankyung was trying to clean his wound, tipping water over it and then dabbing at it with a bandage. "Give me that," said Heechul, snapping only because he was still shaken, and snatched the bottle from Hankyung's hands. He cleaned the wound carefully, using it as some sort of therapy. By the time he wrapped the dressing around Hankyung's arm, his trembling was minimal. He set everything down on the ground, and in a fit of movement, took his boots off and threw them across the room.
Hankyung did his usual thing of touching him to calm him down, except this time he lay his forehead against Heechul's, eyes closed. Heechul stared at his face, so up close, at the tiny marks and freckles that he'd never noticed before. Quickly, he butted his chin forward so that his mouth connected with Hankyung's. Hankyung's eyes flew open as he clutched Heechul to him, to keep their mouths together as he shifted them on the make-shift bed and lay Heechul under him.
It wasn't like Heechul was new to sex. He'd had sex before, lots of it, knew his way around another man's body, so to speak. Hankyung, from his story about the pregnant girl, had had at least one other lover. Still, this was fluttering and unsure. Hankyung seemed scared of touching Heechul too hard. His hands on Heechul's waist were light. Heechul fisted his hands on the material of Hankyung's top and dragged it up, let his fingernails, grown too long, scrape over skin. Hankyung moaned into his mouth, and slid a leg between his thighs.
Heechul's qualms against this -- he's the only one who can help you here, he'll think you're easy, what are you doing -- disappeared as he felt Hankyung's fingers clinking the belt around his waist open. Hankyung's movements stopped being so delicate after Heechul's hands dipped under the waistband of his pants, discovering that of course, Hankyung had no underwear to wear. He smiled against Hankyung's lips, and Hankyung slid his hand up Heechul's bare thigh and pulled it up to his hips.
Heechul was not new to sex, but this was different. This time, it wasn't about sheer satisfaction. This time, every touch made his stomach drop, every kiss made his chest ache, every thrust made him lightheaded. Afterwards, he curled into Hankyung, sticky and hot, and felt the heat of the day fall away around them. Hankyung murmured against his hair, something which sound soppy and happy; something Heechul kind of agreed with.
Fandom: Super Junior (AU, !future)
Pairing: Hankyung/Heechul
Word count: 3,453
Rating: R
Summary: Heechul has just had the worst day ever, in the world. Honestly, he doesn't think that it could possibly get worse than this. That, however, is something that he'll come to regret articulating when he ends up a long way from home, in a world where life is a fight for survival.
A/N: :DDDDD? SEX. eats cereal.
Timeless (4/5)
Their days didn't seem to have much point to them. They just walked, in what seemed to Heechul confusing circles, always going back to the underground locker every week or so, usually longer. One day Hankyung went to the other side of the room and managed to find some clothes for Heechul to change into; a pair of khaki pants and a red tank top. He pushed them at Heechul, who thankfully peeled off his old clothes and changed. His jeans weren't made for hot weather, while his t-shirt now had an endless number of holes in it.
He wished he had a mirror. His hair was now falling down to his shoulders, sticking to the back of his neck during the day. Although Hankyung now took him more regularly to the pool to bathe, it didn't take long for the dust to build back up, and there was no doubt streaks of it across his cheeks. He fingered the ends of his hair, thinking that if this was back home, he'd be going mad because of the split ends. It was a complete mess, and Heechul's hair was never a mess.
He became aware of something dangling in his peripheral vision and glanced up to see Hankyung holding a black hair tie in front of him. "Where the hell did you get that?" he asked, taking it off him and gratefully pulling his hair back. Hankyung smiled at him and pushed the hat on his head again. Heechul winced; the inside was all cold from sweat. Then he scowled as Hankyung pulled on the end of his ponytail, and so missed the uncertain look Hankyung gave him.
Now whenever Hankyung took his hand, Heechul let his fingers curl just that little more, so that it was more akin to clinging than anything else. The last time he'd held hands with someone was his sister, when he was eight. He wasn't someone for public displays of affection, or at least had never seen the need in his previous relationships. He'd never held hands with his partners, never made them meals, never sat on sun-drenched grass in parks and made out. No, it had always -- he saw this now -- been more of a business transaction.
Hankyung made it easy to pretend that they were in a relationship, which was probably not what Heechul needed to think, but he couldn't help himself. Sometimes, as they walked down the middle of a street straight out of an apocalyptic film, he closed his eyes and tried to pretend that he was walking down the expensive shopping district in Seoul, holding Hankyung's hand and carrying a Starbucks latte in the other, whining about something or another, listening to Hankyung laugh at him, listen to him speak Korean. What would his voice be like, in Korean? How would he pronounce things? A Hankyung of his own world that he could be with. It would be different, with Hankyung; it wouldn't be about how he looked next to Heechul, how much he earned, where they ate at. It would be about eating instant noodles at 2AM because they couldn't sleep, it would be covering love bites with artistically placed scarfs, it would be walking down streets in their own little world.
Heechul wanted it so badly that it almost hurt.
Usually these fantasies ended with Heechul tripping on something on the ground and almost flying head over heels, Hankyung catching hold of him just in time. Hankyung seemed to have the reaction time of someone living a second in the future; he seemed to know instinctively what Heechul was going to do and reacted as he was doing it. It was impossible to sneak up on Hankyung -- not that Heechul had tried it, he got the feeling that shocking Hankyung would have tragic consequences. Hankyung always laughed at him after he'd fallen and it just didn't help.
Now when they slept, Heechul would lie on his side, Hankyung's chest against his back and his arm across his hips. It was more intimate than he really should have allowed but he liked it. He liked the way sometimes, Hankyung's nose would touch the base of his neck as he bent his head down to get it out of the cold. Heechul would cover Hankyung's fingers with his own and pretend that they were in his time, in bed together.
He couldn't remember when he got like that. He was always the one in control of his feelings, the one who could be cool, calm and utterly collected, but Hankyung threw him off, could leave his world tilting with a single smile. If this was what love was like, then Heechul was torn between annoyance and relief that he'd never experienced it before. All those relationships back home, the endless search for someone to be with; none of the people he'd gone out with had ever left him feeling like this. None of them had ever left his pulse racing, left him humming at every touch. Maybe, to begin with, there'd been some form of this feeling, but that had gone. Sexual attraction, cold satisfaction, was all he'd ever known.
He didn't miss Hwanghi. He barely even thought of Hwanghi, whose face had begun to fade over the third month, the fourth month, going into the fifth month. He did miss Siwon, though, who could surely only be missing him back. Did his friends believe him dead? What was he supposed to do once (if) he got back? He couldn't tell them that he'd been living in the future for five months, they'd think he was insane, or, more insane than they'd previously thought. Would Siwon be angry at him for disappearing? Siwon was rarely angry, but then Heechul had never disappeared for five months. Much as Heechul trusted Hankyung, it was Siwon who had always taken the role of his protector, even if it had pissed Heechul off a lot of the time. Sometimes, he kind of did want Siwon to be here; someone he could talk to, someone who he knew. Maybe, some day, he'd be able to teach Hankyung Korean -- if he never made it back.
Hankyung stopped, and when Heechul turned to look at him, confused, he said something and then touched underneath Heechul's eyes. Heechul flinched back, suddenly fearful that he'd begun to cry without even realising it. He never usually cried, so perhaps he wouldn't notice if he did start. He held his hand to his face. He wasn't crying. Hankyung looked at him solemnly. Heechul just stared back.
Hankyung hunched down, and in the dust, traced the figure of a woman. Looking up at Heechul curiously, he placed a hand over his heart. Heechul laughed a little; no, he wasn't sad because he missed the woman he loved. Women were not generally things that Heechul loved. Hankyung nodded, as his eyes suddenly took on that dark, unreadable expression that Heechul had seen a few times over the past few weeks; he realised now that it was sadness, grief, something Heechul had never experienced and so hadn't been able to recognise. Pointing to the figure, Hankyung placed his hand over his heart, and nodded.
"Oh," breathed Heechul, realising suddenly. Hankyung stood up slowly, staring at the crude drawing, and without looking up, put his hand to his stomach and then mimed it getting bigger. "Oh," repeated Heechul, voice flatter now. Still without looking at him, Hankyung took hold of Heechul's wrist and lifted it to his mouth, pretending to bite.
Heechul wrenched it back, not for fear that Hankyung would revert into being one of the monsters that had first attacked him, but because of the horror of what had just struck him. The woman that Hankyung had once loved, the woman who had carried his child -- and what kind of a place this was to carry a child, what sheer amazement he felt that something like that could happen in this world -- had been eaten by the other strangers who roamed this place. When Hankyung turned back towards him, he seemed broken somehow; he was not the person Heechul had witnessed for the past five months, the person who was always in control. How long ago had this been? Had Hankyung ever been able to grieve for her, really, in between his fights for survival on this terrain?
He hugged Hankyung, let his arms go around his waist without even really thinking about it. Hankyung was still for a minute, before he put his face against Heechul's neck. It looked slightly uncomfortable, and it left Heechul uncomfortable, but he didn't pull away. It was Hankyung who did that, smiling in a sad way and taking Heechul's hand again. This time, Heechul's grip was looser and yet more intimate.
It was strange how knowing that someone was actually capable of love changed your perceptions of them. Over the next couple of weeks, Heechul's feelings towards Hankyung took a rather terrifying twist; they became softer. Suddenly, it was less about being grateful to his rescuer, and about simply wanting his body (even though he still did). Heechul suddenly noticed the little habits Hankyung had, and each one left him with a strange, not-uncomfortable ache in his chest. He smiled around Hankyung. Perhaps it was easier because Hankyung didn't understand him. Heechul didn't have to pick through what he said in order to leave the greatest impression; usually this only left the sarcastic replies, the bitchy comments, the arrogance, the wit. Heechul could say anything he wanted, and not have to worry that Hankyung would think that he was weird; he didn't have to hide himself like he had with other people he had liked -- but never loved.
He realised by now that they weren't walking anywhere, that there was no final plan. It was just about moving. If Hankyung stayed in one place, listening to the wind, looking at the dirty, demolished houses, he would go mad, so Hankyung walked, to see what there was around him. Perhaps he walked in order to find people like Heechul, people he could take in and look after and have as company. Hankyung had grown up, no doubt, in this environment, so he was more used to it than Heechul, but even he needed someone there beside him. It was human nature, after all; you ganged together.
Hankyung was now taking him further and further out from where they had started, or so he thought, since he wouldn't have been able to make his own way back to the storeroom even if he had a map and a GPS. Still, Heechul thought that he had never seen these places before, never seen that piles of bricks, or that structure. On the day that he thought was the start of his sixth month in this world, they came across what must once have been an airport.
It seemed suddenly to loom up. A building that would once had been huge, now caved in on the left side. Beyond that lay the remains of airplanes, thought none of them like the kind that Heechul had ever seen before. Passenger planes too big to surely exist, and what could only have been army jets, most missing a wing or two. The destruction seemed far more awe-inspiring on this scale than the fading city had ever achieved.
In amongst the destruction, a sign remained intact. It was outside the building; they were on the side where newcomers to this place would have streamed out, on holiday, visiting friends, perhaps returning home. Nearing the sign, he spotted familiar letters, words written in his own tongue. With a happy cry, he pulled his hand from Hankyung's grasp and took off towards it. Hankyung shouted after him, chased after him, grabbed his hand again and held it tightly. Heechul could feel Hankyung's pulse racing in his fingertips, but didn't really notice, too busy staring at the sign.
It was written in many different tongues; the first, he recognised as Chinese. Underneath that, Japanese, then, Korean: Welcome to Beijing.
Beijing? He looked around him. Red dust, hard ground under that, buildings that were more rubble than anything else. This was Beijing? He had been to Beijing before, to visit Siwon when he was studying there. Beijing was a city, as alive with people and structure and society as Seoul was. If this was what Beijing was like in this time -- because only time could have done this much damage -- what was Seoul like?
"Beijing?" he asked Hankyung, who looked unsure. He pointed to the Chinese characters, and Hankyung simply looked blank. Of course he wouldn't be able to read; Heechul was being stupid. He motioned to the remains of what had once been a huge city, and repeated; "Beijing?"
"Ah!" said Hankyung, and then said something in his weird Mandarin. Heechul put on his best I don't know what the fuck you're saying face, an expression he'd had lots of time to work on since coming here. Dropping his hand, Hankyung mimed an explosion, complete with sound effects. Heechul couldn't help the voice in the back of his mind which noted how damn cute that was, even as he glanced around with renewed interest. A bomb had caused this destruction. A war, then. A war with who, about what? Who had won? Probably not China, judging by this. How did Hankyung know? Had it been in his lifetime? So many questions that he had no way of answering.
Hankyung touched him on the shoulder, and then hunkered down. He picked up some of the dust and let it fall through his fingers, then took his knife from his boot and mimed cutting his skin and spreading it over the ground. "Eh?" said Heechul, and then, "oh my fucking god! It's red because of -- that's disgusting." He started trying to brush all the dust from his clothing desperately, practically shrieking in horror. It wasn't attractive, but then he hadn't looked attractive since he'd arrived here. Besides, who cared about looking attractive when you were walking on dust coloured by blood?
Hankyung smiled at him, then stood up and took his jaw in his hands. Heechul fell still quickly, breath pausing for a moment before coming too quickly as Hankyung rubbed his thumbs over his cheeks, apparently trying to get some of the dust off his face. His touch softened until he was basically stroking Heechul's face. Heechul let his eyes drift closed once he noticed Hankyung's mouth coming closer, let his own mouth part in anticipation, felt Hankyung's breath on his lips --
A shift of rocks behind Hankyung had him releasing Heechul and flinging himself around, just in time to intercept the knife of a tall man with bloodlust written in every line of his face. Hankyung hit the ground hard, but flung the man over him with his legs. Unfortunately, although that man hit the ground with a sickening crack, there were more to take his place; two more, to be exact. The man that had first wounded Heechul was not there, and for a split second Heechul wondered what had happened to him -- was he eaten too? -- but then someone grabbed his arms from behind and yanked him backwards.
Hankyung was grappling with a woman on the ground, a woman who had only sheer adrenaline on her side, but plenty of it, as her knife kept coming down, trying to sink it into Hankyung. Hankyung snarled, and grabbed her by the hair and pulled her aside, but at Heechul's cry at being pulled backwards, Hankyung hesitated, took his eyes from her to look back at what was happening to Heechul, and the woman stabbed him in the arm.
The noise he made spurred Heechul into action. He brought his head back hard against the nose of the man holding him, something which hurt like hell but hurt the man more. He did it with enough force to hear the crack of bone breaking, and the man let him go in order to fall to the floor, holding his hands against the gush of blood. Hankyung, still lying on the floor, was trying to hold off the woman while also holding onto his wounded arm.
Heechul did the only thing he could think to do: he kicked the woman in the head. It was, if he did say so himself, a rather spectacular kick, the effect of it dampened slightly by the sound of her skull crunching, and the way she fell sideway against Hankyung, eyes wide and unseeing. Heechul stared, then turned and retched. No matter what she was trying to do to them, he had not meant to kill her.
A man suddenly jumped from the first floor window of a nearby building, landing on his feet like a cat and then running towards them. It was the man that had attacked Heechul; he knew the features but not the expression on his face, one of sheer despair and horror. Hankyung shoved the body off him and jumped to his feet as the man fell to his knees and pulled it close to him, hugging and crooning. Heechul, close to actually throwing up now, noticed the strange angle that the first man's head had taken; he was dead, too. He gagged, and then Hankyung had his hand and was pulling him, making him run.
They ran so far that Heechul could no longer see any sign of the airport which had so transfixed him. When Hankyung slowed, Heechul threw his arm from him and stumbled over to the side of one of the buildings to throw up, only he couldn't quite manage it, dry retching. The man who had been prepared to kill him had loved a woman. How could someone so cruel, someone willing to eat another human being, be capable of love? It made no sense.
Hankyung left him to make a base in the building. After a couple of minutes, Heechul spat on the ground and ducked into the building. Hankyung was trying to clean his wound, tipping water over it and then dabbing at it with a bandage. "Give me that," said Heechul, snapping only because he was still shaken, and snatched the bottle from Hankyung's hands. He cleaned the wound carefully, using it as some sort of therapy. By the time he wrapped the dressing around Hankyung's arm, his trembling was minimal. He set everything down on the ground, and in a fit of movement, took his boots off and threw them across the room.
Hankyung did his usual thing of touching him to calm him down, except this time he lay his forehead against Heechul's, eyes closed. Heechul stared at his face, so up close, at the tiny marks and freckles that he'd never noticed before. Quickly, he butted his chin forward so that his mouth connected with Hankyung's. Hankyung's eyes flew open as he clutched Heechul to him, to keep their mouths together as he shifted them on the make-shift bed and lay Heechul under him.
It wasn't like Heechul was new to sex. He'd had sex before, lots of it, knew his way around another man's body, so to speak. Hankyung, from his story about the pregnant girl, had had at least one other lover. Still, this was fluttering and unsure. Hankyung seemed scared of touching Heechul too hard. His hands on Heechul's waist were light. Heechul fisted his hands on the material of Hankyung's top and dragged it up, let his fingernails, grown too long, scrape over skin. Hankyung moaned into his mouth, and slid a leg between his thighs.
Heechul's qualms against this -- he's the only one who can help you here, he'll think you're easy, what are you doing -- disappeared as he felt Hankyung's fingers clinking the belt around his waist open. Hankyung's movements stopped being so delicate after Heechul's hands dipped under the waistband of his pants, discovering that of course, Hankyung had no underwear to wear. He smiled against Hankyung's lips, and Hankyung slid his hand up Heechul's bare thigh and pulled it up to his hips.
Heechul was not new to sex, but this was different. This time, it wasn't about sheer satisfaction. This time, every touch made his stomach drop, every kiss made his chest ache, every thrust made him lightheaded. Afterwards, he curled into Hankyung, sticky and hot, and felt the heat of the day fall away around them. Hankyung murmured against his hair, something which sound soppy and happy; something Heechul kind of agreed with.