(in)visible spectrum ; kaisoo ; part ii
“How do you read that one?” Jongin asks as his hand shoots up in the air, his finger only stopping a few inches away from an inconsistent blue letter hung up in thin air by the wave-catcher resting near his hipbone.
Kyungsoo, who's lying down next to him, glances at him, and Jongin easily reads the annoyance on his face, just like he spots, as easily, the amusement that turns into willing surrender softly, but quickly. They're both lying on Jongin's blanket, their backs stiff and cold, mercilessly bitten by the too thin floors separating them from space's void, but none of them wanting to move. Jongin watches as the shadows and the pale blue halo coming from the letters shift on Kyungsoo's face, blocked by his arm still raised above their heads, and the lingering light nesting in Kyungsoo's silver patches of skin has him smiling a little more. Somehow, Kyungsoo looks less and less black and more and more like a galaxy, black holes and nebulae included, especially now that the wave-catcher is displaying Magni letters on his face.
Kyungsoo grabs his wrist and forces Jongin's arm down. He lets out a soft sight, and finally draws his attention on the letter Jongin showed. It looks like a snake to the latter, without the split tongue, but without any obvious link with a possible letter as well.
“It means 'gathering'. It's pronounced...” Kyungsoo's voice trails down and he glances at Jongin before breaking into a tiny smile. He closes his eyes and a sort of grumble shakes his chest, normally always so still since there are no lungs swelling in it. The sound goes up and up until it fills Kyungsoo's mouth and finally leaves it in a sort of plosive consonant Jongin has never heard before, but that could somehow sound like a b.
Kyungsoo watches him, and Jongin watches back. Then he starts laughing.
“Stop laughing at my language,” Kyungsoo sighs, but the wide smile spreading his lips blocks the annoyance from showing.
“I am suddenly so happy the Agency forces everyone to learn the Orion Belt language. Imagine me trying to speak Magni with you,” Jongin chuckles.
“Or me speaking Terran to you.”
Jongin laughs even louder, and Kyungsoo ends up chuckling, shoulders shaking against the floor, and head tilted back. Wrinkles spread from the corners of his eyes, and Jongin is rewarded by pink and red on Kyungsoo's lips.
“Have you ever heard Chenzolaeyan?” Kyungsoo finally asks, a quiet chuckle in his words. Jongin shakes his head, and Kyungsoo licks his upper lip in delight. “It's even funnier, they make that sound like they're purring. I don't think people who aren't Chenzols can reproduce half of the sounds in their language.”
“Chenzols are so good at learning other languages though,” Jongin says. “Everytime I've met one, they were so comfortable in cultures that weren't theirs, even more than the actual owners of said cultures.”
Kyungsoo nods.
“They do tend to feel at home even when it's not home.”
Jongin smiles, taking in a lungful or fair. Next to him, Kyungsoo is motionless, his laughter already calmed down by the oxygen his silvery skin quietly takes in. He's like a plant, or like a stone, imposing but perfectly still, except that Kyungsoo's skin is warm, actually hotter than Jongin's. He can feel the heat coming in waves, and everytime Kyungsoo's body heat brushes against his own skin, Jongin is taken by the sudden urge to reach out and grab Kyungsoo's hand to check how hot it really is. He looks down at Kyungsoo's pale fingers lying on the blanket between them. They're bent, slightly raising towards the ceiling, and before Jongin can stop himself, his own fingers are joining Kyungsoo's. He slides his palm over Kyungsoo's to flatten his hand.
When he looks up, Kyungsoo's eyes are heavy on him. The moving darkness in his eyes is swirling around, like black water. It looks like a stormy sky at night, Jongin muses.
“How do you say dark blue in Magni?” he asks.
Kyungsoo snorts, but he doesn't pull his hand away.
“I know what you're trying to do.”
Jongin shrugs, looking like the epitome of innocence. “I'm not trying to do anything.”
Darkness keeps whirling around in Kyungsoo's eyes, and Jongin notices for the first time that Kyungsoo doesn't have any pupils. It's just his round and wide irises, and clouds inside. Black on white canvas. He smiles, and Kyungsoo tries to hold back his own grin, his lips slightly shaking under the effort.
“I told you already,” Kyungsoo says, pretending to scowl him. “I'm not a story. Stop trying to read me. If you want to know something, you should just ask.”
“I've tried that already.”
Kyungsoo shrugs. He tilts his body on the side so his free hand can come and turn off the wave-catcher. The blue halo immediately disappears, letting Kyungsoo's face go back to being plain alabaster.
“Kyungsoo?” Kyungsoo hums as he closes his eyes. “What does dark blue mean?”
Kyungsoo's eyelids slowly go up, and he glances at Jongin. Dark eyes, dark hair, white cheeks, silver strips of skin. He smiles, and Jongin's eyes eagerly feed on the pink.
“What do you think it means?” Kyungsoo asks with a little smile.
“How would I know? I wasn't there.”
“Then why is it that important for you?”
Jongin opens his mouth, way too fast, and he finds himself starring at Kyungsoo in utter silence, looking like a fish out of the water while words are barely taking shape in his mind. Kyungsoo chuckles.
“I saw red when you saved me from Osloa,” Jongin counter-attacks.
He's fighting alone, he realizes as soon as Kyungsoo nods without a hint of realization or even worry in his eyes. His own temper dies down softly before it even has a chance to turn into annoyance or anger.
“Red is for delight, delectation.” His eyes turn into moon crescents as he looks at Jongin, as if sensing Jongin's heart rate's sudden acceleration. “Because I was about to kick his ugly ass, Jongin. I didn't know you, how could have I been happy about saving you?” He pauses and considers. “I don't even think save is the right word, he wouldn't have killed you. Just really hurt you.”
Jongin watches, a little taken aback. He snorts.
“What a delightful man.”
Kyungsoo sends him a toothy grin. More pink for Jongin to freak out over, but it also makes his own lips stretch in a smile. Kyungsoo is actually a little bit higher than Jongin, his shoulder line a few inches from his chin but Jongin likes it like that. Despite all the years he's spent roaming in universes and dead galaxies, fighting off the label the Agency's put on him and his kind, he doesn't mind being looked down at by Kyungsoo. Probably because part of him is actually pretty aware that looking down at Kyungsoo will never be possible. Kyungsoo wouldn't probably even notice, and it would make the whole thing actually... useless.
More than that, though, it's the fact that Kyungsoo is looking at him that pleases Jongin so much. Kyungsoo's eyes used to linger only on Jongdae, but now, they mostly remain on Jongin's. The fact that Kyungsoo is looking down doesn't even matter, it's not patronizing, far from that. It makes Jongin... important.
Jongin's fingers clench around Kyungsoo's. The latter's hand answers almost right away with a slight shift on the blankets that has Jongin's fingers sliding down until they seize the space between Kyungsoo's fingers, thus linking their hands. Jongin looks down at them, then back at Kyungsoo. He can hardly notice pink before black and white swoop down on him, fill his vision, force his eyes closed. There's a pressure on his lips, a softness that can't come from the coldness around them-a coldness that is actually forgotten, successfully fought back by the sudden heat engulfing Jongin. He reaches up, curls his fingers in velvety locks of hair, and pulls a little. Pink blooms on the back of his eyelids when Kyungsoo's lips press a bit harder against his, and his breath dies down. His other hand, still stuck under Kyungsoo's body now hovering his, digs in Kyungsoo's skin, his hold on the latter's hand now so tight that Jongin can feel Kyungsoo's bones, thicker, stronger.
Kyungsoo pulls away, his lashes fluttering against his cheekbones. He looks at Jongin, and smiles softly before taking back his original spot on the blankets. His hand is still in Jongin's though, but it also moves, sliding up until their fingers untangle and he can wrap them around Jongin's wrist. The tip of his index finger remains firmly planted in the center of Jongin's palm though, printing a tiny red dot on Jongin's skin, and making the latter's blood boil.
Jongin gulps down, looking up at the ceiling. The silence stretches.
“You're really hard to read,” he finally blurts out.
“Great,” Kyungsoo answers.
Jongin turns his head to look at him, and it takes a few more seconds for Kyungsoo to meet his gaze. The blankness of his face cracks and he chuckles. Jongin feels his heart collapsing in his chest at the sight, but it's a funny sensation, so funny actually, that he ends up chuckling too.
“What the hell are you two doing on the floor?”
Jongin startles. Kyungsoo's close enough for Jongin to feel the Magni stiffen, and for the first time, Kyungsoo doesn't relax when he catches sight of Jongdae, now standing before them. A little bit confused, Jongin looks at him. Blinded by the corridor's harsh light that Jongdae's thin waist can't block, he raises his hand to shield his eyes, and only realizes then that Kyungsoo has freed his hand. Kyungsoo ignores him as he sits up, brushing away Jongin's disappointment with an ignorance that seems to come from Jongin's first days in this cell.
Jongdae watches them, one of his eyebrow subtly raised, and then glances at the blankets under them.
“Is this an inside joke I can't possibly understand?” he asks, his voice mocking on the edge. It's nothing new for Jongdae, just like the crooked smile he flashes them afterwards isn't, but Jongin can't help but feel uneasy.
“Are you two already on the inside joke level?”
“Jongdae,” Kyungsoo grumbles. “Please, shut your mouth.”
Jongdae shrugs, but it seems that Kyungsoo's tone has reached him because something shifts in his eyes, so much that when he looks down at them again, there are no wrinkles in the corner of his eyes to match with his grin.
“I was just coming by to see if you had eaten already,” he explains. “Or if you wanted to join me.”
His eyes linger on Kyungsoo, darker than ever, and Jongin feels the sudden need to try and break the tension.
“Ah, sorry,” he says, hesitating. “We ate like one hour ago? But maybe we could share breakfast tomorrow?”
Both Kyungsoo and Jongdae's eyes settle on him. Jongdae chuckles.
“You're making it sound like you're in a nice pension,” he snorts.
Jongin shrugs, a bit embarrassed by Jongdae's mocking tone. Being teased at by the Chenzol isn't nothing new, quite the contrary actually, but Jongin can feel that something has changed this time. He easily spots meanness under the mischievous smile, a biting coldness that he doesn't really understand. For a split second, he takes it for himself, thinking that maybe he did something wrong, but when Jongdae's attention goes to Kyungsoo as he adds a short and conclusive ”But you're in a prison”, Jongin realizes that Kyungsoo is the target.
There's no sign whether Kyungsoo is aware of it or not on his face, but Jongin, who became kind of an expert in tracing Kyungsoo's features, searching for colors, catches the slight, very slight, twitch of Kyungsoo's eyebrows.
“You'll forgive me if I don't join you, right? I don't want to look stupid.” Jongdae continues. His smile looks more like a rictus now, almost bestial, and Jongin squirms, uncomfortable.
For the very first time, Jongin gets the feeling that Jongdae is off, that he doesn't fit in the prison anymore, or rather that the prison doesn't fit around him. He suddenly remembers an old crook telling him over a pint of Tcherry alcohool how a furious Chenzol once mutilated him, without forgetting to flash the gathering hung on his every word the scars on his body. Jongin mentally curses against his own mind. Bad timing.
“We were just about to go to bed anyway,” Kyungsoo finally says.
Without a single glance to Jongin, he jumps back on his feet and walks to his bunk. Jongdae's feline eyes follow him, and the coldness rushes back around Jongin.
“You forgot your blankets,” Jongdae remarks.
Kyungsoo glares at him as he lies down on his bed. “Don't need them.”
Jongdae raises an eyebrow, but Kyungsoo closes the brief exchange when he rolls on his side, giving both Jongdae and Jongin the cold shoulder. Jongin draws his attention back on Jongdae, too confused to even think of a question.
“Go to sleep,” Jongdae orders, and his tone is more conclusive than Kyungsoo's voice has ever been. More threatening as well.
Jongin has no other choice than to lie down and pull the blankets up to his chin. He hears Jongdae sit down on his bunk, soon followed by the sheets ruffling, and nothing more. Silence weighs on them, crushing and overwhelming, even before the lights are turned off. Jongin is suddenly very envious of Kyungsoo and his lack of lungs, because he feels like the atoms of oxygen he so desperately needs are way too solid to reach his lungs.
Fortunately, he can always cling to pink, light and warm, oh so warm, on his lips to forget the tension weighing down on his bones. (So he does.)
He would have never thought he'd actually fall asleep because of the tension crushing his bones, but he apparently did, because when Jongin opens his eyes again, it's pitched dark, silent and almost dead. Wondering what woke him up, he blinks away the sleepiness and realizes that wind is blowing around him. Wind. His heart misses a beat and he rolls on his back, eyes wide open and expecting to be met with the Glass Roofs of the Upper Tunnels, with ice colored in all the possible colors. There's nothing though, only darkness, so thick he can't even spot any shadows and he has to blink a few times to make sure his eyes are opened. The wind stopped the second the rolled over, and Jongin, understanding that he probably dreamed, feels his heart sinks in his chest. For a split second, he thought he was back on Earth, back to those times when he didn't really know what the Mining List was, when he was dreaming of infinite and possibilities while still being safe and so comfortable at home. More disappointed than what he should be, Jongin closes his eyes before tears even have a chance to wet them.
And then the wind comes back. Except that it's not wind, actually. Less drowsy, Jongin immediately recognizes Kyungsoo's voice.
“I know what you're going to say,” Kyungsoo is whispering with animosity. “I don't need you to lecture me, Jongdae.”
“Really?” Jongdae answers, just as biting. His whisper voice sounds more like a very low whistle, and Jongin understands that's what he mistook for wind. Under the Glass Roofs, the violent winds blowing on the surface of the Earth almost sounds chanting, whistling.
“Because to me, it really seems like you're about to fuck things up,” Jongdae continues. “Do I have to remind you what I've been trying to do those past few months? You asked for me here, so please, don't screw it all up.”
“I am not screwing up anything,” Kyungsoo bites back, and Jongin can easily picture his locked jaws just from his intonation.
“Kyungsoo, nobody has to know, I'm just trying to protect--”
Kyungsoo hisses, and Jongdae immediately shuts up. Jongin's heart speeds up in his chest, and he wonders, for a very scary second, if they can hear it. How precise is Chenzols hearing? He's never heard anything about Magnis having super senses, but Chenzols, on the other hand... He wouldn't even be surprised. They can breathe underwater, even grow wings if they need to. Why wouldn't they have deathly powerful hearing?
“We'll talk about this tomorrow,” Kyungsoo finally says.
Jongdae lets out a long sigh that Jongin interprets as a sign of discontentment, but the Chenzol doesn't add anything. Jongin hears the ruffling of his blankets -Kyungsoo's are lying on top of his own even though Jongin doesn't remember pulling them on himself- and another sigh follows.
“I am not screwing up anything, Jongdae,” Kyungsoo says, answering the sigh. His voice, this time, is softer, comforting. Jongin's heart stops in his chest at the hint of tenderness he can guess behind Kyungsoo's words. Jongdae remains silent. “Trust me, okay? I know it's important, I wouldn't risk it.”
“Hell yeah it's fucking important,” Jongdae grumbles. His voice sounds muffled, as though Jongdae was talking against his pillow. “You know they made the announcement today, right? They really are moving Chenzolae into the Military List.”
“I know, I know. Jongin won't be a problem, Jongdae. I promise. I won't let you down.”
“Cool.”
Jongin is now fully awake, the mention of his name having woken up his curiosity as well. Kyungsoo and Jongdae don't add anything, and Jongin supposes they fell asleep, but this time he can't even find it in himself to close his eyes.
What the hell was that all about? He had no idea that the Agency had made the announcement about Chenzolae, and thinking back, he supposes it could indeed explain Jongdae's unusual meanness from earlier. Jongin, though, doesn't manage to feel sorry for the latter. Kyungsoo's soft voice, tender intonations, keep replaying in his mind, each time making him angrier. This time, it feels like he's the one being kicked out of the inside joke, and the sensation is far from being pleasant. Are they usually speaking while he sleeps? Jealousy is ugly, even in the night. It has two nasty red eyes that never leave Jongin's face, and the more Jongin stares back, the more he feels like they're setting him ablaze. He rolls on the side, not minding the rush of cold air under his blankets, but he soon realizes that the two red eyes are printed in the back of his eyelids.
Was Jongdae asking Kyungsoo to stop talking to him? Is there something between Jongdae and Kyungsoo? What was that part about Kyungsoo asking for Jongdae specifically? Jongin won't be a problem. I won't let you down. Jongin bites his lips, clenching his fists. It doesn't make any sense. Kyungsoo isn't the type of guy that would kiss someone else just to mess with them. Kyungsoo isn't a liar, he opened up so slowly that can't have been fake from the very first day. He did save Jongin from Osloa after all, would he have done it if he didn't care, not even a bit? And then, kept doing it after?
The jealousy's eyes are blazing in the night, and they wink at Jongin. Red. Jongin's face twists into a frown. Kyungsoo admitted that he did it only to kick Osloa's ass, and not for Jongin, and who could blame him. Spufanians killed hundreds of Magnis. Is it really too daring to assume that Kyungsoo could have kept protecting him only to piss off Osloa? Probably not. Jongin would do it, if he had a chance of payback over one of the assholes that destroyed his home. So... was Kyungsoo really playing with him? All this time?
He grumbles mentally. All that red around him, burning even on his lash line, swelling his eyelids-all that red keeps him from replaying that precious flash of pink in his mind. It didn't feel fake, for sure. But back then, when he was lying under the Glass Roofs, watching the Earth through a thick layer of glass, did it feel like he was in prison, destined to work his ass off for a bunch of people that would only take, and never give back? It was what was bound to happen though.
Perception, Jongin realizes, is a fucking game of truths, only you don't even have the cards with the answers written on them.
Red never leaves. It just grows, so much that when the lights are turned on again in the morning, it has become a veil over Jongin's eyes. The veil itself finds its core deeper in Jongin, in his guts, and he feels hungry, so hungry, but not for food. Today is the day, he decides as he slides out of his makeshift bed, today is the day he will find fucking colors, and stop getting satisfied with black and white. For once up before Jongdae, he quietly walks out of the cell, enjoying his newfound freedom so much. What was he thinking, anyway? He's always been a solo player, and it has worked very well for him until now. He'll probably be out of that stupid prison in a few months, and he'll never do that mistake again.
Jongin walks into the cafeteria, and the room feels bigger than it was before. Adrenaline is running through his veins. It's the same feeling everytime he lands on a new planet, goes to a new city. They're all enemies around him, because they just think he's only there to be crushed, and although never pleasant, at least, this is a familiar feeling. This prison isn't different, he shouldn't have forgotten about that. He learned his lesson years ago, after all, when he finally left Earth for outer space. It is, indeed, infinite, but the possibilities are not: no matter where in the universe, people all look at you the same.
Red is blazing in his field of vision, gnawing his mind, so much that Jongin doesn't pay attention to the large and imposing shadow swooping down on him. Something hits his back, knocking the air out of him, and he topples over.
Red is for anger, and humiliation. But mostly anger.
“Get out of my way, you filthy creature!” Osloa yells at him. “Stop polluting our air, nasty Earthling.”
He spits, and Jongin flinches when the greenish saliva lands on his hand, lumps warm against his fingers. Osloa has probably played that scene in his mind a billion time as he was waiting for Jongin to finally be alone at some point, and that idea, mixed to the sticking saliva on Jongin's hand has the latter's blood boil in his veins. He doesn't need Kyungsoo. He doesn't need anyone.
Osloa kicks him in the ribs with a foot almost as long as Jongin's torso, and Jongin winces, rolling on his back. The ugly green face of the Spufanian fills his vision, and his smirk is so wide that Jongin could count his curve teeth.
“Where's your friend, Earthling?”
“Obviously not here,” Jongin barks at him.
He doesn't miss Osloa's worried look at the cafeteria's doors though. Jongin follows his gaze, and his heart stops when he spots Jongdae leaning in the doorway. He's watching them with heavy hooded eyes that give him a look of indifference Jongin had never seen on him. His heart starts beating again, and he understands in a mix of victory and humiliation that Jongdae won't help him. Victory because he was right about everything, humiliation because he was right.
Osloa, though, probably doesn't get the hint, or maybe Kyungsoo's threat is way too big for him to trust Jongdae's slouchy posture. After one last nasty glance at Jongin, he straightens up and walks away, flanked by two of his friends. He says something in a dialect that Jongin identifies as Spufish, and the three of them end up roaring with laughter.
The sharp sounds reach Jongin's ears painfully, and he looks over at Jongdae, over there in the back of the cafeteria. Their eyes meet, and Jongdae's remain distant, closed. Jongin slowly closes his.
He only reopens them as he hastily gets back on his feet. He wipes the saliva on an alien eating his lunch, and ignores the latter's unique eye glaring at him, his attention focused on the Spufanian. After a short hesitation though, he turns back to the one-eyed alien and grabs his trail. The food slides off the table, and the brownish slop splatters everwhere almost as noisily as the bowl that scatters. Jongin ignores the alien's screech as he speeds up, his eyes glued to Osloa's huge back. The latter fortunately doesn't look back, and Jongin ends up running.
He jumps on a chair on his right, his speed making him feel like flying for a short second. The feeling is so freeing that he doesn't even wince when his left foot sinks into another bowl of mushy mixture just as he finally jumps on the table itself. He faintly hears someone insult him but he doesn't check if he just got on the wrong side of another big bully. With one last jump and another shot of red running through his veins, Jongin reaches the top of Osloa's ridiculously small head, which he hits as hard as he can with the trail, so hard that the loud metallic thud echoing through the cafeteria reduces everyone to silence.
Jongin lands, slightly tottering. He looks down at the trail still in his hands only to notice that the shock against Osloa's probably hard skull deformed it. He flips it over and it suddenly looks like a 3D representation of the Spufanian's head. Jongin starts chuckling just as Osloa turns around, vibrating with anger.
“I am so going to kill you,” Osloa threatens as he takes a first step towards a now laughing Jongin.
The latter raises the trail above his head so that everyone can see in the cafeteria, and slowly, but surely, a few chuckles rise here and there. Osloa's eyes narrow at the crowd of prisoners, and to assert his position as the biggest bully of them all, he blows Jongin away with the back of his hand so easily. The shock knocks the air out of Jongin, and even though his feet leave the floor for far longer than when he jumped earlier, adrenaline and freedom don't flood him. There's a mix of colors flashing by in front of his eyes, and it erupts in blazing white when he lands with a thud on the other side of the cafeteria.
He grunts, pain taking over his body in irregular flashes, but he knows better than to roll on his back and cry over the contusions already blooming on his skin. He tastes iron on the back of his tongue, but he quickly dismisses it as he hauls himself on his hands and knees as fast as he can. He wastes no time checking over his shoulders: he can feel under his palms the heavy thuds so loud they make the floor vibrate, and there's no mistaking it. Osloa is coming for him. The crowd gasps, and Jongin winces, expecting a hard blow. He stops trying to flee, obviously too slow anyway, and buries his head between his arms, hoping with all he can that Osloa won't go for his back, for he'd surely break his spine.
The blow never comes though, and instead of the pain Jongin was expecting comes a sharp sound mixed with a vibration so strong it sends him back on Earth, back to earthquakes. He curls up, and tries to shield his head as dust and bits of wall rain on him, panic rising in his chest. He miraculously doesn't get crushed, and the earthquake -which really doesn't make any sense up there in space- is over before he can even process it. Confused, Jongin risks an eye open, then the other one as he sits up and is met with the weirdest sight ever.
For starter, every alien in the room is still standing on their feet, palms, tentacles, so that rules out the earthquake possibility. The ceiling, just like the walls delimiting the cafeteria didn't even crumble down, but when Jongin glances at his hands, they appear to be covered in plaster, almost invisible next to the bits of walls splattered around him. He turns around, only to see that the wall he crashed against earlier because of Osloa's blow has partly collapsed, a huge hole now appearing where there should only be dull grayish paint. Talking about Osloa by the way, Jongin can spot his greenish silhouette, reduced to a huge bump, a few feet ahead, frying pans and other utensils like tiny infrastructures on his huge belly. Because Osloa is indeed in the kitchen, which used to be separated by the wall now splattered around Jongin.
“Holy fuck,” Jongin gasps.
He turns around and his eyes immediately fall on Kyungsoo, who is standing in the exact center of the circle the crowd has drawn around them. Jongin reads anger, rage, in the seemingly closed expression spreading on his face, and for the first time, the total lack of color on Kyungsoo's body makes perfectly sense, because Jongin is convinced that no color would be vivid enough, or dark enough, to match the blazing look in Kyungsoo's pupils. Upon meeting Jongin's eyes, Kyungsoo slowly unclenches his fists.
It all happens very fast. Heavily armed guards rush into the cafeteria and seize Kyungsoo who doesn't struggle, but whose eyes never leave Jongin. The latter is taken too, forced back on his feet by a three-armed guard whose only eye, perched on the top of a tentacle spurting out of his forehead, widens at the sight of a passed-out Osloa now soaked by the water cascading from broken pipes. It would be funny if Jongin didn't feel like throwing up, the feeling of Kyungsoo's eyes on him strong and heavy.
It's only when he's taken out of the cafeteria, the other prisoners still too shocked to move or even comment on what just happened, that he realizes that Jongdae is nowhere in sight. It doesn't make any sense for now, but Jongin can't shake the feeling that Jongdae is the reason why Kyungsoo appeared in the cafeteria just in time to save him.
He looks up, only to see several guards teaming up on Kyungsoo to make him lower his head, several hands press against his neck, the different shades of colors from red to soft beige ugly on Kyungsoo's pale skin tone. They break the soft curve of his posture as Kyungsoo bends, but even like that, he manages to glance at Jongin from under his dark bangs. Jongin's heart stops in his chest, and bile burns the back of his throat.
He fucked up.
They're thrown into high-security cells, Jongin on the right of the corridor, and Kyungsoo on the left. The walls are pristine white, and the glass doors closing on them are neat, spotless. Silence is thick around Jongin, suffocating. He swirls around, still on the floor after he lost his balance to the guard's strength, and looks across the corridor to Kyungsoo's cell. The latter is standing in front of the glass, his hair slightly sticking out on the back of his head and his palms pressed against the invisible surface. Jongin hurried to his own wall, and uses it as a support to get back up on his feet.
“Kyungsoo,” he hastily says. “Kyungsoo, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have gone without you, I just.. I heard you and Jongdae and--”
He frowns when Kyungsoo slowly shakes his head with a little smile. Kyungsoo points at his own mouth, and Jongin's eyes focus on it as the Magni slowly parts his lips and starts talking. Except that no sound comes out of his mouth. Jongin's heart sinks in his chest. Of course. The cells are sound-proof.
Jongin groans for himself as he glances at the cell around him. It's easier to be aware of the freedom they could enjoy before now that they're stuck in high-security cells. The room is completely empty, no bunks, no blankets, nothing, which means that Jongin can't use anything to try and gesture his apologies to Kyungsoo. Frustrated, he looks back at the latter whose round eyes didn't leave him. It's quite interesting to see him in such a cold environment, all in black and white colors, because Kyungsoo's monochromatic appearance still doesn't fit there. He's whiter, blacker, or at least, he has more nuances, more depth.
Jongin sighs, and his heart jumps up his throat when his breath lands on the glass wall in an ephemeral cloud of mist. He blows as much as he can and hastily draws one of the few Magni characters he remembers. It looks like a perfect circle that could have been gnawed on the edges, and the missing part is supposed to be at the middle. It doesn't really look like that when Jongin is the one drawing it, but when he looks up, he spots understanding in Kyungsoo's eyes.
Sorry.
Kyungsoo smiles, then shrugs. His smile lasts just as long as the mist lingers on the glass. When it fades away, and the wall is back to being neat and cold, he gestures at Jongin, and raises a questioning eyebrow at him. Right, Jongin remembers, no lungs. It's surprisingly easy though, to read in the creases on Kyungsoo's face, despite the usual mix of black and white. He's worried, his eyebrows twitching, and when he points at Jongin's chest with a curved finger, Jongin understands what he's so concerned about.
“Oh,” he says before palpating his own chest. The sharp pain he felt after Osloa's blow has turned into a deeper ache that takes over his right side, from his shoulder to his hipbone, but there doesn't seem to be anything broken.
“I'm okay,” he adds. Kyungsoo obviously doesn't hear him, but Jongin finds the sound of his voice somehow comforting in the silence that surrounds him.
“I'm okay,” he repeats, this time looking up at Kyungsoo.
Kyungsoo nods softly with a little smile.
Jongin sighs, blurring Kyungsoo again for a short second. There's a whole corridor between them, two thick glass walls, and a silence so heavy and so strong they can't fight it off, but Jongin knows that if he could ask, Kyungsoo would answer, whatever his questions might be. They're running in his mind, and the frustration grows with them. He hasn't forgotten what he heard during the night, and he still doesn't understand it, even now that he's almost certain Kyungsoo wasn't faking with him. Just like something tells him that Jongdae somehow saved his skin earlier. But it just doesn't make sense, what he heard, how Jongdae and Kyungsoo protected him, the fact that they called him a Terran before...
Jongin groans, looking up at the glass wall above his head. It's perfectly useless because, although the security of the rest of the prison is quite low, it's very likely that no one has ever been able to escape from those cells. When he lowers his head, Kyungsoo is still watching him, a bit confused.
“What are you hiding me?” Jongin asks him in a whisper. Maybe if his voice is low enough, the walls will dismiss it and forget to block it. Judging from the lost look Kyungsoo sends him though, it doesn't work.
Jongin sighs and leans his forehead against the wall. He catches Kyungsoo moving from the corner of his eyes, and looks up, only to see Kyungsoo bending down to catch his eyes. They stare at each other, and Kyungsoo grins. His shoulders slightly shake, and Jongin feels his own laugh bubbling in his chest. He's heard it before, the sound of Kyungsoo's chuckles, and this time, the soundproof walls can't do anything against it.
The white door of the corridor suddenly opens, and Kyungsoo immediately straightens up, his face going back to its usual neutral expression. Jongin mimics him, frowning at the guard walking into the corridor. His white uniform, usually so neat, looks almost dirty against the spotless walls, an impression that is enhanced by the nervous look mingling with his soft features. From the way his fair hair is undulating under a breeze that most likely doesn't exist, Jongin immediately identifies him as a an Ordne. Which isn't surprising at all, since they live in a very hierarchical society, and don't really enjoy anything else than laws being followed diligently. Jongin faintly recalls Jongdae talking a few times with this guard, and he can't help but think that it must have been an interesting exchange.
The guard stops in front of his cell. He glances at Kyungsoo over his shoulder, obviously more anxious with every second passing by, and finally presses his palm against the glass wall. Jongin watches it disappear from the bottom to the top.
“You can go,” the guard says. “We've questioned everyone, and they all said you didn't do anything.”
Jongin glances at Kyungsoo who's now standing so close to his own glass wall that his nose is almost pressed flat against it.
“I attacked Osloa though,” he says, and the guard shrugs.
“We don't put people there for such trivial things.”
Jongin hesitates, and looks over at Kyungsoo again. The guard catches him and glances at Kyungsoo as well. When he draws back his attention on Jongin, he looks even more nervous.
“I was asked to get you out of here,” he tells Jongin. “If you don't want to follow me, I'll have to force you.”
Jongin looks at Kyungsoo again, who probably understood what was going on, since he nods with a tiny smile, and gesture Jongin towards the door with a slight tilt of his head. The guard watches the scene, oddly fidgety in his uniform, and even when Jongin finally sighs and takes a first step towards him, he barely seems to relax.
“What will happen to Kyungsoo?” he asks.
At the mention of Kyungsoo's name, the guard tenses. He grabs Jongin's arm and drags him hurriedly to the door. Jongin barely has time to look over his shoulder and meet Kyungsoo's eyes one last time before the door closes on the sight of Kyungsoo's palms pressed against the glass wall. Jongin feels his heart bleeding lead through his veins as he turns back to the guard.
“What will happen to Kyungsoo?” he asks again.
The guard almost looks sorry when he answers.
“Well... He caused a lot of problems, so he will be moved to a high-security prison in the Orion Belt.”
Jongin freezes, but the guard's hand, still curled around his arm, has him resuming walking almost right away. His hold is surprisingly strong for such a peace-loving alien, and Jongin can't help but gasp in pain. It's nothing compared to the horror filling his chest though. He knew he was lucky when the Agents caught him red-handed in a planet so distant from the heart of the Orion Belt Agency's territory, because it meant he'd be thrown in an almost abandoned prison. The closest you get to the Orion Belt, the more terrible those prisons are, and if Kyungsoo is indeed moved to one of those, it's most likely that he will never get out of it. They'll leave him there to rot and die.
Jongin pulls away, and the guard startles, taken aback and even looking outraged at such a daring action. Jongin uses those precious seconds of perfect stillness to dart off. The guard calls his name, but he doesn't run after him. They don't really care here, as long as they're still in the prison. In those infrastructures Kyungsoo will be sent to, though...
Jongin's shoes squeak on the floor as he slides in an abrupt curve. He uses the corner wall to regain his balance and start running again. Jongdae probably doesn't like him that much, but he did save him earlier, and most importantly, Jongdae likes Kyungsoo, which is all Jongin needs right now. The Chenzol will know what to do, right? Jongdae has to find a way to fix the mess Jongin has made.
Of course, when he barges into Jongdae and Kyungsoo's cell, it's empty. Jongin lets out a frustrated groan as he turns on his heels before stopping. Where would he go? He has no idea where Jongdae goes duringthe day, and after what he provoked earlier, staying low would probably be a better idea than wandering through the hallways. He has absolutely no idea how Osloa is doing, if he even survived Kyungsoo's blow, but swaggering in front of aliens who hate his guts might not be a good idea right now.
Jongin lets out a soft whine as he looks at Kyungsoo's bunk. His whole body is urging him to do something, but he'll listen to his head for once, and wait for Jondgae to come back here. He expects the Chenzol to be mad at him, but he trusts Jongdae to be able to dismiss his bitterness to focus on Kyungsoo. For now though, Jongin can't do anything.
He bites his lips, and tiptoes to the door of the cell. He checks the corridor, and allows himself to relax a bit when it appears to be as empty as when he arrived, a few seconds before. He straightens up and hesitates for a short moment before turning on his heels and walking to Kyungsoo's bunk. He sits down on it and folds his legs under him as he leans his back on the wall.
“We need to get the fuck out of here,” he whispers, mostly for himself.
The realization at least manages to calm his heartbeat, it's a goal he can hold on to. He grabs Kyungsoo's pillow and holds it against his chest. Now if Jongdae could hurry and show up, it would be even better. They probably won't move Kyungsoo today anyway, but still. Jongin is haunted by the sight of him pressed against the glass wall, thick silence weighing down on his shoulders, and his dark, so dark eyes following Jongin as he's taken away. He groans and buries his face in the pillow.
“Hurry the fuck up Jongdae,” he grunts before curling up on Kyungsoo's bed.
He breathes in Kyungsoo's scent, eyes closed, and in the silence of the prison around him, Kyungsoo's words from the night before come back in his mind. Jongin won't be a problem. He still has no idea what it all meant, but it doesn't really matter, and it won't matter until Kyungsoo is safe. He knows the latter was wrong though. He did prove to be a problem.
Jongin starts counting the seconds after a while, his face still buried in Kyungsoo's pillow, to erase the image of Kyungsoo bending down under all that pristine white from his mind. How ironic that it took him a high security cell to realize how colorful Kyungsoo really is. How stupid.
Jongin jolts awake, his heart beating erratically in his chest as an ear-splitting alarm stabs his eardrums. He groans as he sits up on the bed, the shrilly sound so intense that even pressing his hands on his ears doesn't lessen the impression that it's reducing his brain into a mushy substance. He blinks away the sleepiness, struggling to form coherent thoughts as the alarm keeps invading his mind, but one look at the empty cell around him reminds him of what happened earlier.
He lets go of his ears and jumps out of the bed. What if Jongdae came while he was sleeping? Why did he even fall asleep? Cursing low, his words easily drowned by the still strong alarm, Jongin dashes out of the cell.
He bumps into an alien, slightly taller than him, and whose skin is as hard as rock, completed with tiny protuberances that dig painfully in Jongin's torso. He winces as he literally bounces against the large chest, the pain in his right side waking up with a blazing throb, and expects the said alien to scream at him, or even hit him, but nothing comes. Jongin looks up, only to realize that the alien didn't even stop, didn't even pause to glare at him. Squinting his eyes at the retreating figure, Jongin is convinced it was one of Osloa's friends, which only makes it more surprising.
Jongin straightens up and glances at the rest of the empty corridor, but it's a fake sense of quiet, easily shattered by the alarm still screeching around him. Despite how powerful it is though, he can hear the ruckus and the shouting going on somewhere in the prison. If he pays closer attention, he can even catch the peculiar woozing sound of the blast guns, and he immediately tenses. They're so close to the borders of the Orion Belt Agency's territory, and it's not rare to have rebel attacks in the outskirts.
Kyungsoo.
Heart thumping against his ribcage, Jongin turns on his heels and starts running in the opposite direction, towards the high-security cells. If they're really being attacked, no guard will risk their lives to protect the prisoners, even less if said prisoner is in a high-security cell. Weaponless, Jongin won't make a great difference, but maybe he'll be able to snatch a blast gun on his way. He doesn't care though. He's always been about acting before thinking anyway.
He runs by a few prisoners, and none of them spare him a glance, which Jongin is grateful for. The alarm is still ringing above his head, and the shooting sounds are closer, but Jongin doesn't meet any guards or rebels. Which should be a good sign, right?
“Finally!” a voice erupts in his back, and the matching hand grabs his arm, the hold strong enough to force Jongin to stop dead in his tracks.
He looks over his shoulder, and the most intense relief he's ever felt crashes against him as his eyes settle on Jongdae.
“Jongdae!” he exclaims.
Jongdae is holding a blast gun, and his eyes are more fierce than ever, but all in all, he doesn't look unhappy to see Jongin, just moody at best. Jongin seizes the opportunity to grab Jongdae's shirt, urging.
“Jongdae! We have to get Kyungsoo! We're being attacked!”
“No shit, kiddo,” Jongdae sighs.
He easily sweeps Jongin's hands away before grabbing his wrist and dragging him on the opposite direction from Kyungsoo. Jongin's eyes widen as he firmly plants his feet on the floor to stop Jongdae.
“We must get Kyungsoo!” he protests when Jongdae swirls around, his eyes now glaring at him.
“I did already!” Jongdae snaps back. “Who do you think is attacking the prison right now?”
Jongin blinks, bewildered.
“The rebels?” he tries, confused.
Jongdae stares at him before finally rolling his eyes so hard that they turn white for a split second. His hand tightens around Jongin's arm and he starts dragging him again. Jongin doesn't struggle this time, completely lost. At least, Jongdae got Kyungsoo, which is the only thing he really understood, but also the only thing that really matters. He glances at Jongdae, whose free hand is curled around the blast gun's handle so comfortably, as if holding such a weapon was nothing more than a habit for him, and he realizes that Jongdae is mumbling. The alarm sound is still piercing his eardrums, which means he can't get what Jongdae is saying, but judging from how unhappy he looks, he's probably grumbling against Jongin. Where did the friendly and warm Chenzol who once called him a Terran go?
Jongin suddenly gasps as the puzzle collapses. He pulls Jongdae's hand who looks at him, eyebrows furrowed.
“Are you a rebel?” Jongin asks.
That would explain so many things. The Terran thing. The long reading session about the Agency's news, the anger, the bitterness, but also the conversation Jongin eavesdropped. He gasps for the second time, Jongdae's eyes piercing.
“Is... Is Kyungsoo a rebel?”
“Took you long enough,” Jongdae mocks him. “Too bad you didn't get it before screwing up everything, uh?”
Jongin winces as he remembers the closed look on Jongdae's face when he attacked Osloa. Jongdae and Kyungsoo both being rebels would indeed explain so much, but Jongin still has so many questions. The conversation they had in the middle of the night still doesn't make much sense, there are still large shadows Jongin wants to throw some light on, but before he even has a chance to ask, Jongdae turns around again. His hand is so strong around Jongin's arm that the sudden pull threatens to topple Jongin over. He stumbles but manages to regain his balance, flushing at the look Jongdae throws him over his shoulder.
“I don't have a super strength,” he grumbles, glaring at Jongdae's back as the latter takes him through several corridors.
After what feels like an eternity in the middle of the chaos raging on around them, Jongdae pushes him in the cafeteria, and the sight welcoming Jongin has him gasping, again.
Tables and chairs have been thrown aside, some of them even blazing, probably because of badly-aimed blast gun shoots, but the more surprising isn't even how the place turned into a battlefield, or the few aliens, of all shapes and colors, kneeling here and there, aiming at the cafeteria's entrance-- no, the most surprising is the huge spaceship whose nose is now taking half of the cafeteria.
Jongdae lets go of Jongin and rushes to one of the closer aliens that Jongin recognizes as the guard who took him out of the high-security cell. He still looks nervous. No wonders though, he's doing the unforgivable for an Ordne.
“Junmyeon!” Jongdae calls out. “Take the rest to the escape pods, and get the fuck out of here!”
Jongin misses the rest of the conversation as he stares at the spaceship, flabbergasted. Someone probably drove it straight onto the prison wall, but it was such a reckless move. It could have blown up. It could have damaged the gravity shield now casting a pale green light on the floor, the only signs that it's indeed working and protecting them from the holes in the prison's wall. In all honesty, the spaceship looks so bad, Jongin half expects it to fall into pieces any second now. He stole from a lot of spaceships, but he wouldn't even try to get on that one, because it literally looks like it's been assembled with pieces taken here and there. Jongin gulps and steps back.
“What are you doing?” Jongdae groans as he grabs his arm again, and shoves him towards the spaceship. “You better get on that ship before I change my mind and leave you here.”
A new burst of blast shoots spurts out from one corridor, and Jongin instinctively shields his head with his arms. Jongdae pushes him even stronger, and he trips over a broken chair. Jongdae's hand closes around his neck, and he pulls him up before Jongin faceplants, but it has Jongin moaning in pain. Jongdae glares at him before turning around to shout something at Junmyeon that Jongin doesn't catch. The alarm is even stronger in the cafeteria, or is it because of all the shooting? But Jongin's heart is thumping loudly in his ears, blocking any sound.
“I won't go without him, I won't go without him” Jongdae groans as he drags Jongin into the spaceship from a tiny door left opened on the side. “I can't believe I'm reduced to that.”
He turns around, presses a button and checks that the door closes well. Jongin is left standing in the middle of the room, completely lost. The spaceship somehow doesn't look as bad from the inside, but still. He can still hear the blast guns outside, and there's a slight vibration under his feet that does nothing to reassure him. He looks up at Jongdae.
“What the fuck?” he sputters.
At least, his confusion has the advantage to break the gloomy mask on Jongdae's face as the latter throws him an amused look mixed with a slightly patronizing chuckle. He's laughing at Jongin, but the latter couldn't care less. He's not sure he understood half of what is going on.
“Where is Kyungsoo?” he asks again, and that has Jongdae sighing.
“You're both beyond help,” he says. “Come on. Time to leave this ugly place.”
He gestures towards the only door in the room, and Jongin follows. They enter a new room -the pilot house obviously- and Jongdae doesn't spare him a glance as he hurries to the controls. He throws his blast gun on the co-pilot seat, and jumps on the larger one. What he does next, Jongin wouldn't know, because his eyes are still glued to the pair of hands that caught the gun.
“Kyungsoo?”
Kyungsoo looks up at him with a tiny shy smile, and Jongin gasps.
“You're... you're golden.”
Kyungsoo blushes, or at least, Jongin supposes he does, because the blinding gold stretching on his cheeks turns into warm bronze for a split second. Kyungsoo is glimmering, his skin casting tiny diamonds of reflection on the spaceship's control pad, and nothing, not even his mother's stories, could have prepared Jongin for such a magnificent sight.
There are tiny gold nuggets swirling around in Kyungsoo's pupils, and his lashes are covered with gold dust. Everytime he blinks, they scrape the tip of his too long bangs, and it injects gold on the dark strands. The twinkling reflection slides up to the top of his head, and then cascades towards his neck where it nests in a golden halo that stretches over Kyungsoo's shoulders. The silver strips of skin have turned into a pure gold that seems to be in motion, liquid metal undulating on Kyungsoo's skin. They start at the outer corners of his eyes in a thin thread, then widen as they go up to his temples before plunging down on his neck, and those are the strips that Jongin had noticed before, but now that Kyungsoo has let go of the monochromatic appearance, he catches a cloud of freckles he hadn't spotted. They're stretching on the back of his hands, around the strips that come out from his under his sleeve and end on the tip of his middle finger, but they're also going up from his Adam's apple to his chin, a few of them sprinkled on his lower lips.
“You're golden,” Jongin repeats. The vibration under his feet grows stronger, more worrying, but he doesn't pay attention.
Kyungsoo doesn't move as Jongin's eyes travel from the gold nuggets in his pupils to the freckles on his throat. It's only then that he notices the blood dripping on Kyungsoo's uniform from a burnt mark on his shoulder. His heart stops in his chest.
“Oh my god, are you hurt?” He hurries to Kyungsoo and raises his hand to inspect the wound, but can't find it himself to actually touch Kyungsoo. He looks up at him, the proximity taking his breath away. “You're hurt,” he repeats. “Is gold for pain? Are you... are you in pain?”
Jongdae snorts in his back, and Kyungsoo glares at him.
“Shut up,” he hisses.
Jongin glances at Jongdae, lost. “What?”
“Do you know how he got hurt?” Jongdae tells him, smirking at the windows in front of him, his hands expertly flying from one joystick to the other. They're out of the prison, Jongin notices. “I got him out and he wouldn't go into the spaceship without you, and that idiot got hurt while trying to go back into the corridors.”
Jongin glances at Kyungsoo, whose cheeks are now more copper-colored than golden.
“Can you believe it? He gets caught by the Agents because he thought it would be funny to steal money from them, he gets thrown into -thank god- a forgotten prison. I managed to get thrown into the same prison to get him out. It takes me months to gain the trust of a few guards to try and rally them behind our cause. And he almost gets himself killed because he doesn't want to leave without you.”
“Jongdae, shut the fuck up,” Kyungsoo threatens him, but no matter how harsh it sounds, it doesn't change the gold stretching over his body.
Jongin goes back to worrying.
“Kyungsoo,” he asks. “What does gold stand for? Is it pain?”
Kyungsoo opens his mouth, but Jongdae chuckles, mocking.
“Oh no,” Jongdae snorts. “It's not pain--”
“Jongdae, please, shut up--”
“You see, gold is for the color of your skin, little Terran.”
Jongin freezes. Kyungsoo glances at him before looking away.
“I was just really worried, okay?” he mumbles. “I couldn't contain it.”
Jongin stares at him, taken aback. He's so close that he can see the new wave of bronze starting in Kyungsoo's eyes, like a drop of liquid bronze mixing with the gold nuggets. Kyungsoo blinks, and the bronze nuance slips down his skin, twinkles on his lashes, stands out in his hair. Jongin's heart starts racing in his heart, so fast, and the adrenaline literally blinds him for a split second. He leans in, puts his hand on Kyungsoo's cheek and presses their lips together.
Kyungsoo's hand curls on the back of his neck as he kisses him back, and the feeling is so strong, so pleasing that Jongin doesn't hear Jongdae's snort, or the communication he receives from Junmyeon. He breathes through his nose, refusing to stop the kiss, but Kyungsoo smiles against his lips, his fingers now softly stroking the hair behind his ear.
“Breathe,” he whispers against the corner of Jongin's lips, and it has the latter smiles.
They exchange a glance, and Kyungsoo chuckles.
“I've put gold on your lips.”
Jongin blinks in surprise. He pulls his hand away and glances at it, gasping when he realizes his palm is now covered with golden dust and tiny, tiny gold nuggets following his palm lines. When he looks up, Kyungsoo is watching him with a tiny smile, the gold in his eyes brighter than before.
“You have so much to tell me,” Jongin says. “So much.”
Kyungsoo nods. Jongdae chuckles.
“Hey Jongin, by the way, I'm the leader of the rebellion, want to join us?” Jongdae singsongs behind Jongin.
The latter freezes, and Kyungsoo deflates as he closes his eyes. Jongdae keeps chuckling, so much that when he tries to answer Junmyeon's communication a few seconds later, his words are so incomprehensible that Junmyeon has to -very politely of course- asks him to repeat three times.
In the meanwhile, the golden dust fades away from Jongin's hand, so he puts it back between Kyungsoo's fingers.
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(IT'S SO BAD)