tell me, would you kill to save a life ; 13/14
Port Ville is beautiful when it’s spread over fiery and burning colours. Jongdae’s eyes slide over the mix of pastel rose and angry orange and stop on the soft horizon line of the sea. It’s twinkling, almost dancing, under the last minutes of sunlight. The city is fairy-tale like, and it thrums with the excitement of hundreds of people getting ready for a night out. On his left, the Bottoms shine the brightest as the sun slowly dives down behind them, cloudy flames shooting up in the sky like a halo over the island. The cars driving through the three bridges reflect every ray of sunshine in a kaleidoscope of colours, thus looking like sparkling gems. Tomorrow, Port Ville Sailor’s Gazette will marvel at the beauty of this piece of land which holds so much of the city’s history in a lengthy article. It will commemorate everyone one who died there five nights ago, every police officer who gave their life for the security of the city, but it will mostly admire the ceremony that took place earlier today. It’s the first time, in Port Ville’s history, that the Bottoms are the stage of such a prestigious ceremony, to which most of the city attended. They all watched in a silence almost holy as the deputy mayor, Mrs. Amy Lee, gave the key of the city to Port Ville’s superheroes.
Jongdae glances at Dahye, who is sitting on the edge of the roof next to him, then at the heavy golden key she’s wearing around her neck. It’s a new age, so many people have said, an age for heroism and courage. He’s heard some of them talking about changing the name of the Bottoms to something more hopeful, but Jongdae doesn’t think it will last. The island is still drug dealers’ territory, and there are too many terrible secrets lurking in its dark, dirty corners. Soon enough, people will forget, and they will stop smiling at each other on the streets. Port Ville will go back to what it’s always been: a city that bleeds and drowns its inhabitants.
“Chanyeol, Jongin, Kyungsoo and I are going out for a drink tonight,” Dahye says out of the blue. “Wanna join?”
She gives him a little smile, but Jongdae knows from the look in her eyes that she doesn’t have much hope.
“Nah,” he answers. “I’ll just go home and order myself a nice pizza.” He glances at his own key around his neck, gold clashing with the black of his Alpha costume. “And throw that in a box,” he adds.
Dahye chuckles.
“You know, Chanyeol thinks it’s unfair that they didn’t get one.”
“Yeah, well tell him that all he did was getting lost.”
“I will,” she snorts, amused.
They slip back into a comfortable silence, their friendship strong enough for them to not feel uneasy at the lack of words between them. Jongdae glances at Dahye’s bird-like profile because of her Heize mask, then back at the scenery spreading at their feet. She’s asked him a few times already to join her daily meetings with Chanyeol, Jongin and Kyungsoo, but Jongdae doesn’t feel like mingling with the rest of the world right now. Just like Port Ville, he reckons it will take him a few weeks to get back to his old routine. He still hasn’t decided what he wants to do with himself next - what he wants to do with Alpha.
He thinks about Jihoon asking him if he could come by the hospital to visit a recovering Soojung. He thinks about Insung tearing up at the ceremony as he was holding his son tightly against him - and about Kyungsoo who looked up at him with the same look Sehun and Dahye had when they knocked on his door for the first time. A look of thankfulness and eagerness, a look that says I want to change things too.
“Did I tell you that Insung promoted Jihoon today? He’s my new partner,” Dahye says.
Jongdae looks at her with surprise. He supposes it makes sense, considering how many officers are now looking at a good number of years in jail, but Jihoon was a great choice anyway. He’ll be a great detective.
“I hope you’re ready for endless chats about how much he loves Alpha,” he teases her.
Dahye snorts.
“He does love you a lot.”
Jongdae chuckles. He looks at the horizon again, and his heart misses a beat when his eyes fall on the limit between the sun’s last rays and the night now draping over the city. It’s a dark shade of blue, one that glows like the sunset and is deep like the thick blackness of the night, and it looks haunting - haunted.
“Alright,” he says, breathing in deeply. “You’ll get late for your date, you still need to change.”
“It’s not a date,” Dahye protests.
“You’re right, because Jongin and Kyungsoo are cockblocking.”
She sighs and playfully shoves him with a chuckle. Jongdae winks at her, which makes her laugh softly. Something flashes through her eyes, and she suddenly huddles closer, wrapping both her arms around Jongdae’s and hooking her chin on his shoulder. They exchange a glance, and Jongdae’s heart floods with affection.
“I’ll order your pizza for you,” Dahye says softly. “Just to make sure you’ll really have something to eat.”
Jongdae smiles. He kisses the tip of her nose.
“Extra cheese,” he asks.
She rolls her eyes.
“I know.”
They look at each other for a little more and Jongdae finally closes his eyes. He leans in and presses his forehead against hers.
He’ll come back she told him, five days ago. He came back when it didn’t seem possible, didn’t he?. Yes, he did, Jongdae whispered. He doesn’t want to wait five years this time though. He doesn’t care about Sehun being completely messed up, he doesn’t care about what he did, he just wants to make sure he’s okay. And he has so many questions, so many things to say… It doesn’t seem fair. It isn’t fair to him.
He’s been sleeping like a baby for the past five days though, and it’s such a nice change from the last five years.
“Okay,” Dahye finally sighs. “Call me if you need anything okay? I’ll come by for breakfast tomorrow.”
Jongdae nods as he straightens. He smiles at her when she waves, then watches her walk away to the fire escape stairs. They exchange one last glance, and she disappears on the stairs. Jongdae listens to the sound of her soles against the metal until she reaches the alley. She slips away from Port Ville’s eyes in the darkness, unnoticed and unseen, straight to her apartment where she’ll become Jang Dahye again.
Jongdae glances down at the key around his neck for the second time. He’d better get going too. He feels like being Kim Jongdae again.
He gets back on his feet, and turns to the edge of the roof. He sets off, propels himself forwards and lands on the roof across the street. Before jumping from that one too, he pulls out the necklace and wraps it around his belt, not liking the sound it makes against his costume when he moves. Then he looks up at his new goal, and starts running again.
He lets his legs lead him back to his building, as his eyes wander over the night sky spreading over Port Ville, lost in his thoughts. When he finally lands in his roof, he doesn’t realize he’s not alone there until, at least, the intruder clears their throat playfully.
Jongdae whirls around, his breath catching in the back of his throat. He is met with one of Lexie’s most blinding smiles. She looks oddly like she belongs, with her large hoodie and her long hair naturally curling down to the small of her back. Jongdae watches, mouth agape, as she winks at him, her bare face scrunching up with mischief, freckles in full display.
“What are you doing here?” he squeals before mentally cursing himself for his lack of self-control.
She chuckles.
“Come on,” she says before throwing him another secretive smile. “Come on, Jongdae. I know, okay?”
Jongdae’s lips part and he finds himself at loss of what to say, which obviously pleases Lexie a lot. She walks up to him, pushing back a long golden strand of hair behind his left ear.
“Don’t worry,” she says with a dismissive hand gesture. “I’ve known it for years now, and I never told anything, did I?”
Jongdae gulps. She’s doing it again, asserting her dominion over him. He glares at her.
“I should arrest you,” he says. “You killed Pavoni.”
“Wasn’t the first, won’t be the last,” she singsongs.
She sits on the lower wall, and looks up at him expectantly, her hand rubbing the spot next to her. Jongdae pretends he doesn’t notice which makes her smile.
“Beaulieu was out,” she finally says. “And you were obviously determined on taking Thorne out of the picture. I figured it was my time to shine.”
Jongdae snorts and she sends him a flirty smile in return that turns into a genuine chuckle when he shakes his head, sighing. She pats the wall next to her, and this time Jongdae compels. He sits, but keeps a safe distance between them, just in case. He expects her to smile at him, or even tease him about it, but when he looks up, she watches him with serious eyes.
“I’m cleaning Port Ville from Thorne’s fanatics,” she says. “I don’t want nothing to do with what he did.”
“Do I want to know how you’re taking care of them?” he asks.
She smirks. “You’ve noticed Baekhyun’s absence, haven’t you?”
Jongdae slightly shakes his head, and once again, her smile slips off her face. He realizes that he doesn’t even know how old she is, but he thinks she might be younger than what he would have first thought. In her hoodie and her boyfriend jeans, her slim ankles peeking out from her sneakers, she could totally pass as a college student. He hopes she’s not that young though.
“You want to be Port Ville’s light, you want to do everything by the book and be right and fair, but you have to know that when there’s light, there’s bound to be darkness,” she tells him very seriously. “Let’s make a deal, okay? Be the light. Be inspiring and good, and let me be the darkness. We’re probably going to hunt each other, but together we can create a good balance for this city. You and I both know it can’t be saved. But it doesn’t mean we have to go down in flames either.”
Jongdae looks into her face. She really is one of the most beautiful women he’s ever seen, but he thinks that what makes her stand out so much is that light she has in her eyes. She could say the craziest things, the glimmer in her azure eyes would make anyone consider them seriously. It might be the case right now, Jongdae realizes. She might be playing him again, but he can’t help but think that she has a point. Port Ville is a tired city. Jongdae is tired. If someone can lead the mob life of the city with an iron fist, it’s Lexie Wright. The three main leaders being dead, there is bound to be some wannabe gangsters suddenly deciding they can take over the city and spill blood. The last gang war in Port Ville was, after all, a war about succession.
She smiles, as though reading his mind, and pats him on the arm, without even looking the slightest afraid at his contact.
“I knew you were smart,” she says. “I’ll guess I’ll see you one of these days, then.”
She stands up and puts her hands into her hoodie pockets before heading to the roof access.
“I didn’t agree though,” he calls out.
She looks back at him with a chuckle.
“Oh by the way. I have a piece of advice for you. If you want to stay in the game, surround yourself with people you trust. It worked out pretty nicely for me.” She pauses. “Maybe you should consider those little friends you had the other day. I liked them. I thought they were plucky.”
Jongdae snorts.
“You know what? Maybe I will.”
This obviously delights her. She blows him a kiss before turning on her heels again, and she leaves the roof probably like she arrived: as though she owned the place. Jongdae watches the door closes behind her. We’re probably going to hunt each other, she said. He snorts. Well, he’ll probably have to start with Byun Baekhyun then.
He gets back up on his feet and the sound of the key against his costume catches his attention. If he does decide to keep on being Alpha, anyway.
He closes his finger around the key to stop it from dangling and walks to the backpack with clothes he always leaves on the roof. He’d better get home before Dahye’s pizza is delivered, or she’ll never stop screaming at him.
Jongdae fumbles in his jean pockets for his keys, his backpack dangling from his shoulder. The whole building sounds so alive in his ears. Since his little trick on Misaine bridge, his senses have been much more sensitive, and he’s been able to pick up many more things than before. It does come with consequences though, as his focus is now easier to lose. His mind wanders, from one voice to another, from one beating heart to another. It flickers, completely unable to remain on a single thing unless Jongdae actively works for it. He’s still getting used to it, but he’s learning to let go of the flow of information instead of his first instinct pushing him to analyse everything. His headaches are finally getting better.
He turns his key in the hole and steps inside his apartment. Closing the door behind him doesn’t give him more privacy, but Jongdae likes it like that for now. He likes feeling so much life around him. He reckons it’ll probably change later, but he’s decided to do the one step at a time thing. He’ll worry about it when it’ll happen.
Jongdae throws his backpack on the side as far away as possible and steps inside his living room. He freezes on the spot as his eyes fall on his open window. He can feel every part of his conscience previously whirling around in the building rushing back to him, and less than a heartbeat later, the only thing he can hear is the slow, regular beating of Sehun’s heart, its owner sitting on Jongdae’s window sill, his longs legs dangling in the emptiness.
Sehun turns to look at Jongdae. He’s wearing the exact same outfit, the exact same leather jacket and the exact same pair of pants, but he looks so different in Jongdae’s eyes. He takes a first step towards Sehun, his eyes taking him in, from the tip of his unhooded head to his fingers clenching on the window sill. Sehun breathes in deeply, but shallowly and shakily. He lifts a hand and pulls down on his mask, fully revealing to Jongdae his broken expression. Their eyes meet, and Sehun’s fill with tears. He turns back to Port Ville’s scenery.
Jongdae’s breath catches in the back of his throat, and he feels like the weight he’s been carrying around for the past five years has finally lifted. Painfully aware that Sehun is probably focusing on him to make sure he won’t try anything, Jongdae takes cautious steps towards the window despite his instincts and his whole body urging him to go faster. He finally stops just behind Sehun, so close that when they both breathe in, their jackets almost touch. Jongdae patiently waits, his skin itching with need and want, but Sehun doesn’t move or talk. He watches the horizon now covered in thick darkness, his legs dangling and his heels regularly hitting the side of the building. Jongdae feels himself crumbling down.
He takes the last step and wraps his arms around Sehun. His fingers lock on the latter’s stomach and he presses his forehead against Sehun’s nape, his heart missing a beat. He huddles closer, his hold growing more desperate and he bites on his lower lip when Sehun gives a shaky spasm in response. It is quickly followed by a broken sob, and Jongdae’s heart shatters in his chest.
“It’s okay,” he whispers while Sehun lowers his head and tries to hold back his sobs. “It’s gonna be okay…”
Sehun’s hands shoot in the air. His fingers wrap around Jongdae’s arms like claws, desperate and needy. They painfully dig into his flesh, tighten Jongdae’s hold around him and curl around his wrists, pressing hard against Jongdae’s skin. The latter tries to pull out to carry Sehun into the apartment, but Sehun shakes his head. He wipes his cheeks with fragile looking fingers and glances at Jongdae. Jongdae watches the neon lights reflect on the black of Sehun’s irises and on the tears still filling them. Sehun doesn’t look away. His gaze gets heavier and heavier until Jongdae feels like he’s sucked in. That’s when he understands.
Sehun takes Jongdae’s hand and puts it on top of his. Jongdae links their fingers and closes his eyes. Sehun’s face lingers on the back of his eyelids for a short second before being replaced with floating dark spots of colours: dark greys, dark reds, dark brown, but very little black. Jongdae withdraws in the back of his mind, where his power sleeps, and he lashes it out. Sehun’s hand welcomes it with thousands of ending nerves, and Jongdae follows them, wraps himself around the electricity they emit, and lets himself be carried away.
The first thing he sees is himself. His own body, hands stretched out and muscles tense. He looks dangerous, he looks about to throw himself at someone. The first thing Jongdae feels is the comforting coldness of the blades he’s holding in those hands that are not his. He glances down, and the mayor is on his knees, at his mercy. What does he think now that he’s reached the end of his life, Jongdae wonders with this inner voice that isn’t his. But then this very same voice drowns as dozens of other voices explode in his mind. He hears laughter, he hears snickering and poisonous cackling. Then he hears bones cracking, he hears flames raging and he feels the heat melting his skin, eating his organs, devouring him whole.
There’s no fire here the calmer voice tries to say under the mad laughter. No fire.
The body Jongdae is in twitches, and the office goes back to normal. His real body is still in front of him, and he doesn’t look that dangerous now. He looks … He looks beautiful. Anger floods Jongdae. Things were never supposed to happen this way.
His hands tighten on the blades and he slices the mayor’s throat. He doesn’t even hear the body collapsing nor does he hear the blood spurting out of the wound, because all he hears are bombs exploding, bones breaking and limbs tearing apart, and all he feels is the smell of his own death as blazing flames close in on him. He walks away.
He's in the street now. Sehun is in the street, and Jongdae is lying at his feet, tangled in his own cape. Sehun has to blink a few times to make him out, because his vision gets blurry. He watches Jongdae’s eyes under the Alpha mask, the curl of his lips and the tip of his nose. He looks away. There are two trucks on fire at the end of the street. Jongdae’s shin-bone has torn Jongdae’s costume. Is it really Jongdae though? Sehun draws back his attention on the man’s face. He watches his eyes under the Alpha mask, the curl of his lips, the tip of his nose. Deconstructed memories flood his mind, and they make absolutely no sense, but Sehun knows perfectly well that they once did. He’s learned to read the code his brain is now using to avoid the voices. It is Jongdae, he realizes. He should be happy. He’s not. The voices are laughing again. Sehun steps away from Jongdae, just to make sure the latter wouldn’t go and grab him. There are already enough voices in his mind.
Sehun is running in the streets. There are so many people around him. Every time his eyes fall on a new face, his mind registers it as broken, bloody and beaten to a pulp. His knuckles itch with the need to hit, the need to destroy and kill. But nothing is as strong than the need to shake Jongdae off. He hears him running after him, he hears him breathing, and for a nice fleeting second, the world looks clean again. There’s no blood, no bruises, no cuts. Sehun’s motivation hardens. It doesn’t matter. He can’t allow Jongdae to catch him. That’s not the plan. He grabs one of his blades and throws it over his shoulder. He hears Jongdae slide in a halt, he hears him bumping into a couple to save them, and Sehun jumps on a car, knowing he’s out of the woods. He turns around and his eyes fall on the gathering. It looks bloody to him, lethal and macabre, but he knows it’s just his mind playing tricks on him because Jongdae is there, and Jongdae likes saving people. Sehun waves at him while the car drives away.
He looks so miserable. He looks so small and fragile. Sehun blinks a few times to make sure they’re not tweaking what he sees again, but when he reopens his eyes, the same sight spreads at his feet. Jongdae is walking between the rows of seats, the movie credits still unfolding on the screen, and Sehun feels like he’s never seen anything sadder. The voices catch on his thoughts, and his mind is suddenly filled with sobbing kids, dying mothers, crumbling fathers, and blood, so much blood. Sehun dismisses it with a shake of his head. In the room, Jongdae immediately crouches down, his heart slightly speeding up. Sehun can’t refrain a smile. It’s still Jongdae.
There are so many thoughts. So many. Some of them are his, some of them are not. It gets steadier and steadier, and also easier to pick up what comes from his mind and what doesn’t, but everything is so deconstructed, detached. It’s all dissociated. Now, he can read the hints, he can sit down and think of a plan. He needs Thorne out, he needs to show Jongdae and Dahye. He needs to kill Thorne. It’s broken, it goes everywhere. Sehun is learning, little by little, to choose his fights carefully. He’s leaving the basics to the voices, he gives them his eyes and his mind, but in exchange, he keeps his thoughts, he keeps his feelings. They’re buried under the chaos, under the blood and the fear. Sehun can dig. And dig, he does. Day after day. It gives him a sense of regularity. At least now he’s aware of the days passing by.
The drug. Sehun looks at the pills in his hand, the pretty shade of blue makes him think of frozen corpses. It’s the same shade of blue than the serum. He knows where the serum comes from now. He’s looked for it. It’s Thorne and this shabby lab with scientists that are too clever for their own good. They’ve tried for so long after his death to make the serum work, but it didn’t. They don’t know it worked for him, and Sehun doesn’t want them to know, so he hides his face. He thought he had stopped them. He’s not even sure it really happened. Maybe he dreamed it. Maybe it was just a whisper in his head. But whatever it was, clearly, it wasn’t definitive. He blinks at the pill in his hand, and it takes him a couple of seconds to remember what it is. The drug. Its pretty shade of blue reminds him of frozen corpses. It’s the same shade of blue than the serum. Makes sense. It comes from the serum. If you can’t make super soldiers, make a super drug and fill your pockets with money. Is that a Disney song? Sehun feels like it is. He swears he can hear Thorne sing it. He can’t let other people hear the voices. He made the right choice by coming back.
It doesn’t work. The room is dark and closed, and small, but Sehun sees it bright red, open and big. There’s a stair, and it leads him back to Thorne, back to his revenge. He wakes up screaming, and he sees the stair. It doesn’t work. Why did he even try? He’ll never fix it. The voices are loud, so loud. He doesn’t even remember the name of that boy he keeps saying, but he knows it must have been beautiful. He's painfully aware that when he first got here, away from civilization, he still had a bit of control over himself. He still knew who he was and what had happened. Now, all he knows is that Thorne is alive, Thorne is alive, Thorne is alive. He doesn’t feel alive. How long has it been? He can’t remember. He wants to go out, he wants to go back. The door stands firmly, blocking his way out, and Sehun watches, dumbstruck, the huge DON’T LEAVE UNTIL IT’S ALL FIXED scribbled over the paint. The letters dance in front of his eyes. The voices laugh. THORNE IS ALIVE. Sehun smashes the door down.
Dahye is sitting on the right seat and Jongdae on the left. Sehun isn’t sure why, but he thinks it’s a detail worth remembering. He can feel his mind slip between his fingers, and he wonders if he’ll really remember it. It only makes him more determined about his decision. He has to leave Port Ville until he can control himself. His thoughts are going nowhere, and it’s happening more and more now. Sometimes, he has to go back, to use key words to remember what he was thinking of at first. It’s mostly Jongdae and Dahye anyway, but he has a feeling that soon, it won’t mean as much. He’s so scared. He adjusts the hood on his head, and watches through the café’s window as the waitress puts two cups of coffee on the table. Dahye is sitting on the right seat, and Jongdae on the left. They look so sad. Her eyes are puffy, her hair dirty and dull. Jongdae has been watching the table without blinking for ten minutes already. He’d give so much to go sit with them. But then he blinks, and Dahye is suddenly headless, the flesh on her neck rotten. Jongdae’s eyes are liquefying and trickling down his cheekbones. Sehun closes his eyes, his heart thrashing against his ribcage and a scared sob stuck in the back of his throat. He needs to go. Now.
Sehun’s eyes open. He gasps, convinced that no oxygen will ever enter his lungs again, but it does. For some reasons, it scares him even more. Someone laughs on his right, and Sehun startles. There’s no one on his right. Someone laughs on his left. Sehun whimpers because there’s no one on his left either. There’s no one at all. He sits up, eyes the burnt planks covering his legs and the ashes staining his bare skin. There’s no one but he can hear so much. He looks at his hands, at his new and soft skin. Someone is laughing so loudly in his head, it hurts, it hurts so much. Where are Jongdae and Dahye? He needs to tell them he survived, he needs to - Did you really though? Sehun freezes. He clearly remembers the silence before the explosion, but the silence is gone now. He can hear the swell so distinctively. He thinks someone is fishing a few feet away from the coast. It hurts.
But nothing hurts as much as the explosion. The blast is tangible. Sehun does feel it. It has teeth and hands and feet, and it gnaws, it punches and kicks. He thinks it took his arm. It broke his bones. It snapped his leg. Nothing hurts as much as the blast, not even the flames that come after. Sehun lets them come. They’ll take the pain away. His eyes fall on a broken tube lying next to him, and if he had the strength he would laugh. He can’t believe he did not want to die. It’s all he wants now. All he wants. He closes his eyes.
Jongdae
Jongdae withdraws as a shock runs through his body. His lungs empty themselves, and he gasps for air. His hands clench on Sehun’s hands, his forehead still pressed on his nape. Sehun’s fingers slowly unwrap themselves and they let go of Jongdae’s hands to dig under his sleeves. There, they curl around his wrists, press against Jongdae’s veins, digging until they catch his pulse. Jongdae’s breathing is echoing through the room, loud and erratic. He barely can see through the tears flooding his mind, but he’s never needed his eyes to see anyway. He pulls one of his hand away and starts digging too, until it finally reaches Sehun’s heart. It beats so loudly. It feels so alive.
Jongdae closes his eyes and fragments of Sehun’s thoughts flash on the back of his eyelids. He tightens his hold and presses his lips against Sehun’s nape in a kiss that never ends. His power sends a tingle through his mouth when it rushes there, and the tingle turns into a pleasant buzzing once it blooms around his mind while sucking Sehun’s in. He plays with synapses, connections and broken nerve endings. He feels the madness creeping in, but Jongdae stops it. He sews new thoughts, new details over Sehun’s eyelids, and soon enough, Port Ville’s scenery shrinks until it’s just the pink neon sign in front of Jongdae’s window. The blood and the broken bones constantly trying to take over Sehun’s sight crumble down, reduced to ashes by the flashy glow of the sign. Jongdae faintly hears Sehun take a shallow breath. His attention is focused on his mind, as the latter is a constant battlefield, and Jongdae needs to win that fight.
He writes words in Sehun’s mind, and they manage to stay long enough for Sehun to register them. His hands are lighter around Jongdae’s wrists now, softer. Jongdae’s lips still tingle against his neck.
It’s merely a break, not even a cease fire, but Jongdae does everything he can for Sehun’s conscience to remain on that pink glow. Something else tries to link it to bruises and open wounds, to pain and suffering, but Jongdae keeps fighting. He tweaks nerve endings, he tweaks both his and Sehun’s sights until the pink glow looks oddly familiar. Now, it matches the marks left by lips over pale skin, it matches kisses along jawlines. There’s no red, no back or blue. Just pink, faint and warm.
And Port Ville has never looked more beautiful.
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