(for stars_in_love) Nothing Left But Altitude - Part 4 of 4
For: stars_in_love
Title: Nothing Left But Altitude
“Are you sure you’re going to be all right for this mission?” Junmyeon asks hesitantly, eyes skimming over Kyungsoo’s pale face.
“I’m just fine,” Kyungsoo snaps irritatedly, before he remembers where he is and sighs deeply. He’s careful not to meet Junmyeon’s eyes. “Really. I’m fine. I just...didn’t sleep well last night.”
Kyungsoo doesn’t mention that he hadn’t slept well the night before that, either, or the night before that. Or really, that he hasn’t slept almost at all since Jongin left. Since Kyungsoo had to call Junmyeon and tell him that Jongin had disappeared, no, he had no idea where he’d gone, yes, there was the possibility their mission had been compromised, yes, if Command asks he’ll take the blame for everything he should have known better he should have figured it out earlier… Kyungsoo doesn’t mention that every night he wakes up choking on thick, black smoke-though he’s used to that, that doesn’t bother him. The worst part is that every night he wakes feeling the soft press of Jongin’s lips against his own, he wakes desperate for touch, for the slide of Jongin’s skin against his own, for Jongin’s warm breath against the shell of his ear. Because fuck Jongin couldn’t just leave with Kyungsoo’s trust, he had to take Kyungsoo’s heart with him-a heart Kyungsoo used to believe he didn’t have.
“Okay, well, you’re going to be instrumental when we launch our raid on K.E.X.O.’s stronghold,” Junmyeon sighs, handing Kyungsoo the usual folder. Plane ticket, hotel information, well-intentioned aspirin prescription like Junmyeon doesn’t trust Kyungsoo to properly medicate himself. Junmyeon knows him so well.
“Do you-” Kyungsoo finds himself saying before he can come to his senses and stop talking. “Do you ever wonder if you’re fighting for the right side?”
“What are you…” Junmyeon asks, trailing off as he stares worriedly at Kyungsoo. “You know I’m technically supposed to report you saying stuff like that.”
“But you won’t,” Kyungsoo laughs dryly, waving a hand. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I’m going to go.”
Junmyeon is silent as Kyungsoo grabs his papers and heads for the door. But just before Kyungsoo disappears into the corridor, he hears a soft voice from behind him.
“Sometimes…sometimes I wonder,” Junmyeon whispers, giving Kyungsoo a wan smile. Kyungsoo nods once, then leaves the room. But seeds of an idea start to bloom in his mind, pushing out the dark anger and despair that have tried to take root there.
There’s nothing Kyungsoo likes better than an impossible mission.
“So, which way did you say were the stairs down to the basement?” Minseok asks again as he and Kyungsoo creep around the backside of what for Kyungsoo is a horribly familiar-looking building in the middle of Seoul. Kyungsoo feels a momentary pang of sympathy for Minseok, cutting through all the anger and apprehension he’s grown used to grappling with lately. Minseok hasn’t been on a real mission in years, but for this raid Command decided that they needed every top operative.
“They’re kind of hard to miss, off on the right side of the room,” Kyungsoo repeats, fingers sliding across the trigger of the gun he’s holding out in front of him, half-expecting to be attacked at any second. So far, the night is silent, but Kyungsoo knows it won’t stay that way for long.
“Right,” Minseok mutters, and when Kyungsoo glances down he sees that his hands are shaking slightly around the gun he’s clutching.
“Minseok,” Kyungsoo hisses, against his better judgement which is telling him they’re supposed to be silent right now. “Get a grip. If they figure out that you’re having trouble…”
“I know, I know,” Minseok mumbles, jerking away from Kyungsoo’s voice, but Kyungsoo sees that his hands have stopped shaking. It’s like riding a bike, Kyungsoo’s found. You never really forget how to shoot someone, no matter how much you want to.
“See you,” Kyungsoo whispers when they reach the side door Junmyeon’s schematics told them about. Minseok has to continue around to join up with a group of other agents they’ve been told are closing in on their position. Kyungsoo has a different job.
As Kyungsoo ducks in the side door, slipping silently down the staircase it had been concealing, he wonders whether Command suspects how much he knows. It would be hard for them not to-he’d mentioned Luhan in his debriefing, but he hadn’t mentioned the folder he’d found. He hadn’t mentioned how much he wanted to personally strangle every single person involved in that experiment, how much he wanted to laugh at their empty professions of “morality” and “fighting for good.” He supposes there’s only one way to figure out how much they know. If they think he knows about the collaboration, they’ll send someone to kill him. Simple. Clean.
Kyungsoo reaches the bottom of the stairs and pauses as he tries to get his bearings. If Junmyeon knows what he’s talking about, he should be right next to the corridor where Luhan’s being held, provided they haven’t moved him. Kyungsoo’s banking on the fact that the little cell they’d built was probably very expensive and very difficult to move.
When he finally steps into the empty corridor, everything is silent. So the other agents haven’t started to launch an attack yet.
It takes Kyungsoo about five seconds to see him-sitting despondently on the floor of his cell, throwing a small rubber ball at the wall and catching it whenever it bounces back. It’s not until Kyungsoo gets closer that he sees that Luhan’s arms aren’t moving. But by then Luhan has noticed him, abandoning the ball altogether to jump over to where Kyungsoo is standing, smiling at him through the glass.
“Finally!” Luhan pouts, pressing both palms and his nose against the glass. “I almost thought you’d forgotten me.”
“Trust me,” Kyungsoo snorts, as he walks over to one edge of the cell and starts placing the charges they’ve equipped him with. “You’re not very forgettable.”
“I’m sorry about Jongin,” Luhan says quietly, but it’s enough to make Kyungsoo freeze in his tracks, turning to face Luhan with his mouth smoothed into a blank line.
“I’m not going to ask how you know,” Kyungsoo finally says, Luhan fidgeting in place, eyes flashing between fearful and curious. “But I am going to ask you not to talk about it.”
“Okay,” Luhan grumbles, taking a few steps back from the glass. “But only because you love him and he loves you. That means that no matter what, you’ll be together. That’s what happens in all my books.”
“Real life isn’t like the storybooks,” Kyungsoo replies coldly as he goes back to setting charges along the edges of the Luhan’s cell. Luhan eyes him mischievously, and if he weren’t so fragile and young Kyungsoo thinks he might find it all too easy to blame him for the death of Kyungsoo’s parents, for Kyungsoo’s empty childhood, for the fact that everyone Kyungsoo has ever known and cared about has betrayed him.
“Some people get to live in fairytales,” Luhan sing-songs, before backing away into the corner of his cell, sitting down under the small table placed there and peering out at Kyungsoo through the chair legs blocking his face. “You’re going to blow this place up now.”
“Not the whole place,” Kyungsoo says with a grim smile as he activates the timers. Five seconds later-Luhan cowering under his small table, Kyungsoo pressed up against the wall a little ways down the corridor-an entire wall of the glassy prison shatters into dust.
It takes Kyungsoo thirty seconds to clear the smoke and dust out of his eyes, cough the stench of burning plastic out of his nose and mouth. And, in those thirty seconds, Luhan disappears. Kyungsoo darts forward as soon as he can see well enough, trying to determine whether Luhan wasn’t standing far enough away, whether he accidentally got caught by the blast, because Kyungsoo may want more than anything to blame Luhan for his problems but he’d never meant to, never wanted to kill him-
Kyungsoo’s distracted from his frantic search by a small, sharp noise coming from the end of the hallway. He whirls around just in time to see Luhan disappearing around the corner, small shoes clattering loudly on the polished floor.
Damn kid, Kyungsoo swears to himself as he takes off after Luhan, determined not to lose him. Of course, that’s when the alarms start to blare. Kyungsoo hisses in pain at the sudden noise, barely managing to see Luhan’s small form sliding down a side corridor. He follows, cursing Luhan for making this more difficult than it has to be. He was supposed to go in unnoticed, grab the kid, and make it out before the first wave of offense. Easy. If only.
Kyungsoo follows Luhan through room after room, down tiny hallways where Kyungsoo practically has to turn sideways to fit and huge echoing tunnels that make Kyungsoo wonder how no one has seen them yet. It’s not until Kyungsoo is gasping for breath, wondering how Luhan could possibly have so much stamina, that Luhan starts to slow. At first it’s nearly imperceptible. But gradually Kyungsoo realizes that he’s gaining on him. Never one to trust something good so easily, Kyungsoo starts to slow himself, expecting Luhan to leap ahead again. But instead Luhan unexpectedly yanks open a door and practically throws himself through it, letting it bang shut behind him. Kyungsoo grabs the door handle, hauls it open, and is about to continue running when all of a sudden he collides with something very large and very warm and somehow finds himself on the floor, his gun flipping out of his waistband and skittering off into a dark corner.
“Shit!” the something moans, stumbling backwards and assessing its injuries. Kyungsoo briefly feels affronted-after all, he’s the one flat on his back with all the wind knocked out of him, this other person can’t possibly be worse off-until his mind finally registers the familiar voice and Kyungsoo feels like all the breath has been knocked out of him all over again.
It’s Jongin.
“Kyungsoo?” Jongin says in surprise, moving forwards just as Kyungsoo starts to scramble backwards, hands feeling fruitlessly across the floor for his gun.
“I-You-Get away from me!” Kyungsoo hisses angrily when he feels his back hit the unforgiving wall. He would try to stand but from the way his head is ringing he’s fairly certain that standing is currently beyond his physical capabilities. How annoying.
“Kyungsoo, what are you doing here?” Jongin asks desperately, and Kyungsoo wonders how Jongin could possibly be so stupid. It’s kind of hard to miss the sirens still ringing in the corridor and the background thud of running feet.
“What do you think?” he spits, focusing as hard as he can to try to keep the scene in front of him from blurring. “I’m leading the raid against you. We’re going to destroy you.”
“It’s not me you’re here to destroy,” Jongin says softly, taking another step forward, and Kyungsoo feels a sharp spike of anger deep in his gut. It’s not fair. It’s not fair, it’s not fair that Jongin is standing here talking to him like this, like they’re friends, like Jongin cares about him, when Kyungsoo can’t decide whether he wants to put a bullet through Jongin’s stomach or kiss him until all the air is gone from his lungs.
“I’m not alone this time,” Kyungsoo lies, because maybe technically he isn’t but at this moment, in this room, he very much is. “If you kill me, someone will know. You won’t get away with it.”
“Why would I want to kill you?” Jongin frowns, confusion clear in his voice. Kyungsoo hates it, hates how easy it seems to be for Jongin. Nothing has ever been easy when it comes to Kyungsoo.
But before Kyungsoo can respond, before he can give Jongin a hundred-a thousand-reasons why they should want to kill each other, why Kyungsoo absolutely should not be thinking right now about how pretty Jongin’s eyes are, the door across the room from them slams open.
Spinning around, Kyungsoo sees a man standing in the doorway-the same man who had been with Yixing when they’d been taken off the plane. The man with the tattoos and the deep voice.
“So here’s our little runaway,” the man laughs, stepping forward into the room, and that’s when Kyungsoo sees that the man has a gun pointed directly at his chest. “More trouble than you’re worth, if you ask me. And I have it on good authority that you won’t last very long at the hands of our disgusting co-workers so you’ll probably thank me for this. Or you would, if you weren’t going to be dead.”
And with that, the man cocks his pistol and Kyungsoo’s mind flashes back to the only time he’d ever gotten shot. The pain, blooming red-hot across his body, mouth screaming in time with his heartbeats squeezing precious blood out onto the dark pavement. He wonders how much dying is going to hurt. But then there’s a sound from behind him and both he and the man turn to look.
“Chanyeol,” Jongin says, and Kyungsoo sees through the haze clouding his vision that Jongin is holding a gun himself, pointed right at the man’s chest.
“Jongin-what?” Chanyeol gasps, sounding terribly confused and slightly scared, and Kyungsoo realizes with a jolt why the name had sounded so familiar. Why the name Sehun had stuck in his memory like a burr. He’s heard them before. Why hadn’t he made that connection, remembered all of Jongin’s stories from that interminable plane ride?
“I can’t-I won’t let you do this,” Jongin says, and though the words are firm his voice is shaking as hard as the walls around them as Kyungsoo hears explosions and shouting off in the distance. A fiery belch shoots through the door Chanyeol had just come through and sets a line of tables along the edge of the room ablaze. But none of them move from their strange tableaux-Kyungsoo on the floor, Chanyeol’s gun aimed at Kyungsoo, Jongin’s gun aimed at Chanyeol.
“Why the fuck do you care what happens to him?” Chanyeol asks in what appears to Kyungsoo to be legitimate amazement. For a strange second the name of that music video Chanyeol had loved so many years ago pops into Kyungsoo’s head and he wants to throw up.
“Look, maybe this concept is too hard for your tiny brain to understand,” Jongin spits harshly, and Kyungsoo sees Chanyeol recoil the way someone does when they’ve just had an old, cruel nickname leveled at them by a friend who knew how much it hurt them. “But I care about him, okay? I’ve spent so much time with him these past few weeks, and I-”
"So, let me get this straight,” Chanyeol says with a slightly hysterical laugh. “You would kill me, the person who’s been your best friend for your entire life, ever since my father decided that you were worth saving from that gutter we found you in. You would kill me to protect this person you barely know, and who would 100% kill you if the situation were reversed.”
“Kyungsoo isn’t like that-” Jongin shoots back, but even to Kyungsoo’s ears it sounds weak, pathetic, useless. Kyungsoo feels weak, pathetic, useless.
“Jongin,” Chanyeol says firmly, and when he stands like that-black silhouette outlined by the flames licking along the back wall of the room-Kyungsoo can see why his symbol is the phoenix. “Put down the gun.”
“Make me,” Jongin hisses, but before Chanyeol can do anything to respond the doorframe that had been buckling under the heat of the fire snaps and half the ceiling starts to thunder down on them.
“Run, damn it!” Jongin screams, grabbing Kyungsoo’s arm and dragging him to his feet, the both of them racing out the back door of the room before the dust clears. Kyungsoo doesn’t see what happens to Chanyeol.
“What’s happening?” Kyungsoo gasps as they stumble into another smoke-clogged hallway, the ground shaking every few seconds from nearby explosions.
“E.X.O.,” Jongin replies grimly, coughing into his sleeve. “They’ve apparently decided that the best thing to do with K.E.X.O.’s hideout is completely destroy it.”
“Well, I wish they could have waited until I got out, at least,” Kyungsoo grunts, ducking a chunk of plaster that’s been knocked loose from the wall. But he knows that E.X.O. never does anything by accident. It’s not as simple, or neat, or clean as having him assassinated, but under normal circumstances it would do the job. Even the best-trained agent can’t escape a cage of fire and falling rock. “Now, nobody would mind much if you got buried here.”
“Again, Kyungsoo, I’m so sorry for not telling you about...this!” Jongin shouts over the whine of alarms and the roar of a basement tunnel suddenly opening to the upper world. Kyungsoo ignores him, though inside his brain is warring with his shattered heart. Jongin betrayed him. Jongin saved him. Jongin, Jongin, Jongin. Damn Jongin.
“Here,” Jongin gasps, shoving something cold and metallic into Kyungsoo’s hand. His fingers curl instinctively around the handle. “Take this.”
“Why are you giving me a gun?” Kyungsoo asks, although he’s already starting to feel a bit calmer, standing up straighter as he walks down the corridor with the gun raised protectively in front of him.
“Because I’ve only ever shot people who were standing still,” Jongin explains, and for a second Kyungsoo can see hope shimmering in his eyes.
Of course that’s when Sehun decides to start shooting at them. Not that Kyungsoo sees who it is-he’s already on the floor, scrambling to get behind a pile of rubble that provides them with a small bit of cover. It takes him a few seconds-damn all those months of working alone-to realize that Jongin is still standing bolt upright, squinting into the haze of dust and smoke to try to see who their assailant is. And that’s how Kyungsoo figures it out.
“Come out, come out, you filthy traitor,” Sehun sing-songs, and even if Kyungsoo didn’t recognize his voice, he’s the first logical person Chanyeol would tell about Jongin’s little decision, provided he survived the room collapsing around him. Maybe Chanyeol really is a phoenix, Kyungsoo thinks wildly. Reborn from the ashes.
“Jongin,” Kyungsoo hisses. “Get the fuck down!”
When Jongin doesn’t listen to him, instead continuing to stare into the haze with a horrified expression on his face, Kyungsoo takes matters into his own hands. Moving into a crouch, he waits until he hears a clatter and a grunt of annoyance-probably Sehun stumbling over a piece of debris. Then he makes his move.
Jumping out from his hiding spot, he practically tackles Jongin, using his inertia to drive both of them into the narrow corridor he’d spotted directly across from them. Before Jongin even hits the ground, Kyungsoo is hauling him upright and forcing him forward, as gunshots start to ring into his ears. There’s more of them this time-more than Sehun could be responsible for on his own. So he’s got help now.
“You know,” Kyungsoo gasps, remembering suddenly as he pulls the both of them behind a nearby column and listens for the sound of feet running past. “When you said you had a complicated childhood, I didn’t think you meant you were raised by mafia dons.”
“Well, I’ve learned it’s not something you bring up in polite company!” Jongin protests, pressing a hand to the stitch in his side. A sputter of gunfire from behind them has Kyungsoo jumping forward, dragging Jongin along with him until he finally starts to move by himself.
As they run side by side down the dim hallway, stumbling every now and then as another ringing boom echoes through the complex, Kyungsoo starts to laugh. And once he does, he can’t stop. It doesn’t matter that they’re in danger of being shot or blown up any minute. It doesn’t matter that his head aches and his legs are sore and his chest is burning. Because he’s alive and Jongin...for once Kyungsoo savors the feeling of being on fire.
“This way,” Jongin calls over Kyungsoo’s laughter, and he can’t help but smile himself as they race up a flight of steps and finally pour out into the cool night air.
“God, this air feels so good,” Kyungsoo sighs, collapsing against the wall of the building they’ve just left-probably some sort of alternate exit-and grinning when Jongin sits down beside him.
“What are we going to do now?” Jongin asks quietly, staring wide-eyed at a large building sitting squat against the skyline several hundred meters away. A building that is currently glowing orange with fire and black with smoke as parts of it continue to collapse inwards in a rush of dust. Kyungsoo hopes that Luhan made it out all right. Something tells him that if anyone could do it, that boy could.
“I don’t know,” Kyungsoo replies honestly, fingers sliding over the cold barrel of the gun still clutched in his fist. It feels so familiar that Kyungsoo can’t imagine a life without it. But maybe he could try.
“Well, I do know one thing for sure,” Jongin says, and when Kyungsoo glances over at him he sees that he’s grinning.
“What’s that?” Kyungsoo asks, because he’s never really been one for riddles.
“I almost shot Chanyeol for you,” Jongin murmurs, ignoring the way Kyungsoo flinches at the name. “And I know that you owe me for that.”
“I guess it’s good policy to always pay your debts to mafia brats,” Kyungsoo sighs dramatically, letting the gun slip from his fingers and fall onto the sidewalk with a muffled thunk. The way its dark surface reflects the starlight makes him think of cold, dead eyes staring into nothing. Kyungsoo is done with death.
“You’re the secret agent,” Jongin laughs softly, face suddenly so close to Kyungsoo’s that Kyungsoo can feel his warm breath pressing against his cheek. “You tell me.”
And maybe Kyungsoo would tell him, but he can’t at the moment because his mouth is otherwise occupied. Jongin tastes like mystery, and adventure, and loyalty, and pride, and Kyungsoo can’t get enough of it, has never been able to get enough. Jongin tastes like mint and comfort and starlight and Kyungsoo never wants to stop kissing him, wants every moment for the rest of his life to feel just like this.
Kyungsoo’s first memory is of fire.
It is a truth he has carried with him his whole life.
But it isn’t the truest thing about him. It never has been. It just means that Kyungsoo knows what it feels like to burn and sometimes-just sometimes-he doesn’t mind. Sometimes, he thinks his last memory will be of fire too.
And sometimes he thinks that might be all right.
Epilogue
It’s years before he see them again.
Junmyeon, Minseok, Jongdae. He doesn’t see them all at once-a midnight meeting in Paris one time, a coffee in Tokyo the next. He doesn’t realize how much he’s missed them until he nearly falls over at the sight of them, barely prevents himself from toppling into their arms like a child, because Kyungsoo is not a child, but sometimes he forgets the definition of the word “friend” and it never hurts to be reminded.
“We thought you were dead,” Minseok hisses the first time, angry tears rising in his eyes as he hugs Kyungsoo so tight Kyungsoo thinks he might disappear. “They told us you were dead.”
“I know,” Kyungsoo says, voice muffled by Minseok’s coat. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Minseok huffs, pulling back and hurriedly wiping his eyes so he can pretend to have just been assaulted by some pollen floating through the warm New York air. “It’s not your fault. And I did what you asked.”
“Thank you,” Kyungsoo says sincerely, smiling to keep his own eyes from misting over as he takes in the way Minseok looks so healthy, so vibrant, so happy.
“It wasn’t easy,” Junmyeon sighs, stirring his coffee so he can avoid looking into Kyungsoo’s eyes. But Kyungsoo can see that he’s smiling. “I still don’t know what you’re hoping to achieve by this.”
“To be honest, I don’t know either,” Kyungsoo says with a wry grin, reaching down to play with the thin silvery ring curling around his finger.
“But you know you have to try,” Luhan finishes with a wise nod. Kyungsoo gives him an annoyed look and Luhan giggles, curling into his enormous red sweater as Minseok cards affectionate fingers through his hair.
“What did I tell you about that, Lu?” Minseok says sternly, but Luhan simply turns and gives him such a pretty smile that the two of them burst out laughing.
“You are going to be such a tease when you grow up,” Kyungsoo snorts, flicking Luhan lightly on the arm. “But first you better teach your dad how to buy clothes from these things called ‘stores’ so people don’t think you want to spend your life drowning in ugly sweaters.”
“I like this sweater,” Luhan sniffs, small fingers clenching tightly around the brightly colored threads. “It makes me happy.”
“I’m glad,” Kyungsoo says with a smile, placing a warm hand on his shoulder.
“I still want to know your secret,” Junmyeon laughs, pulling away from Kyungsoo’s touch and taking a large sip of his coffee. “How do you manage to stay on the run from basically everyone on the planet while still smiling like that?”
“It’s the little things,” Kyungsoo replies with a grin, because he knows Junmyeon has always been a sucker for cliches.
Kyungsoo isn’t sure Jongdae is even going to show up, that crisp winter day when he uses the information Junmyeon’s unearthed to contact him. He’s almost given up-standing up from the dirty park bench he’s been waiting on for the past hour and preparing to walk back to the car-when he hears a soft sound from behind him, like someone clearing their throat. Kyungsoo doesn’t even get the chance to spin fully around before Jongdae is tackling him, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug and mumbling endless sentences into his hair.
“I’m so, so, sorry,” Jongdae whispers and Kyungsoo smiles weakly because he knows how much it hurts to say those words, he knows just how hotly it burns.
“I know it wasn’t your decision,” Kyungsoo says, clutching Jongdae close the way he never would have if he were still the person he’d been for most of his life.
“God, Kyungsoo, they threatened my family, they threatened my friends, they threatened you, anything to get me to play dead,” Jongdae gasps, the words tumbling over each other faster than he can keep up.
“Do you know why, Jongdae?” Kyungsoo asks soothingly, pulling back so he can look into Jongdae’s warm, dark eyes. “Why did they make you disappear?”
“I don’t know,” Jongdae replies worriedly, familiar frown lines creeping across his forehead. Kyungsoo decides to forgive him for not wanting to hear about New York and horse racing. “All I know is, they said you were getting complacent, comfortable, that I needed to disappear because I was slowing you down.”
“Jongdae, Jongdae you’ve never slowed me down,” Kyungsoo smiles, and Jongdae smiles back and it’s like the sun has decided to shine just a little bit brighter.
“Thanks for the visit,” Zitao drawls, now-dark hair swept up, low-cut tanktop hanging off his right shoulder. He’s still terribly handsome, and Kyungsoo is still terribly interested in what he knows. “Now get out before I come to my senses and make a call.”
“I’ll be seeing you,” Kyungsoo smirks as he disappears off into the dark.
“No, no, don’t call us, we’ll call you,” Baekhyun grins smugly as he grabs Yifan’s tie to pull him back when Yifan starts to wander away from the table they’re sitting at. “But, then again, we apparently don’t have any way to contact you. So that might not work out.”
“I have ways of getting in touch,” Kyungsoo replies, idly stirring his expensive drink and wishing he hadn’t been forced into a suit for this meeting. “If you’re interested in helping me get some information.”
“Well, as they say, everyone has their price,” Baekhyun sighs, leaning back in his chair and eyeing Kyungsoo steadily.
“And for you, our price might be quite reasonable indeed,” Yifan finishes, giving Kyungsoo a small smile. “We like you.”
Chanyeol calls, just once, but once is enough.
“Look, I still don’t like you,” he says when he hears Kyungsoo’s voice on the other end of the line. “And I’d still probably kill you if given the chance. Sehun would definitely kill you. But just...tell Jongin that I meant what I said. He’ll know what I’m talking about.”
“Take care of him,” Jongin says, ruffling Luhan’s hair as he stands beside Kyungsoo, arm in arm, smiling at Minseok. “And thank you for helping us. I know it won’t be easy, but I think we can do this.”
“You’re the best of the best,” Jongin says, as Junmyeon blushes and chokes on a too-large sip of coffee. “We’re going to get you out of there, Junmeyon. Somewhere people will appreciate your talents and stop you from putting so much sugar in your coffee.”
“He’ll come,” Jongin says firmly, grabbing the back of Kyungsoo’s coat and pulling him back onto the park bench when Kyungsoo stands up in frustration, ready to walk away. “Just be patient.”
“I still don’t know why you trust him,” Jongin sighs as they watch Zitao’s lithe form disappear into the shadows. “But I bet he knows more about K.E.X.O. than he’s letting on.”
“You’re making a very astute business decision, if I do say so myself,” Jongin smirks, reaching out to shake hands with Baekhyun. Kyungsoo wonders idly how long their little staring contest is going to last before he or Yifan have to intervene. For some reason neither of them can resist their small competitions.
“Oh, I see how it is, Park,” Jongin snorts into the phone, and Kyungsoo can hear the answering laugh from half a room away. “You only want to help me now that I’m a fugitive. Oh, sure, like I ever needed that to make me more interesting.”
“Do you think we’ll actually be able to do this?” Kyungsoo asks, admiring the way their fingers look twined together in his lap.
“What, bring down one of the most infamous spy organizations in the world along with the people who are supposed to be fighting them?” Jongin laughs, sound bright and warm in the stuffy air of their room.
“Well, it sounds much more intimidating when you put it like that,” Kyungsoo sighs, untangling their hands so he can pick up the gun sitting on the table in front of him and check that the safety is off.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Jongin replies, rising from his seat and pulling his dark jacket tighter around his slim frame. He holds out a hand for Kyungsoo to take and Kyungsoo does, letting himself be pulled upright.
“Let’s go,” Kyungsoo agrees, hoisting up his backpack from its spot beside the door and grabbing the door handle. The last thing he expects is for Jongin to suddenly yank him around, Kyungsoo’s hand slipping roughly off the cool metal as his back bangs awkwardly against the smooth wood.
“For luck,” Jongin mutters, leaning down to kiss him again.
Kyungsoo’s never been afraid of fire.
The first gunshot slams through the door high above their heads-someone has very poor aim and very poor timing, Kyungsoo thinks with a disgruntled sigh. But it takes mere seconds for them to be up and out the fire escape, scrambling down the cold metal staircase as shouts echo from the empty room behind them.
As they slide smoothly away into the shadowy city, Kyungsoo thinks he can see a fiery orange glow on the horizon. Jongin’s hand tightens around his own.
Then all that’s left are the stars.
Title: Nothing Left But Altitude
“Are you sure you’re going to be all right for this mission?” Junmyeon asks hesitantly, eyes skimming over Kyungsoo’s pale face.
“I’m just fine,” Kyungsoo snaps irritatedly, before he remembers where he is and sighs deeply. He’s careful not to meet Junmyeon’s eyes. “Really. I’m fine. I just...didn’t sleep well last night.”
Kyungsoo doesn’t mention that he hadn’t slept well the night before that, either, or the night before that. Or really, that he hasn’t slept almost at all since Jongin left. Since Kyungsoo had to call Junmyeon and tell him that Jongin had disappeared, no, he had no idea where he’d gone, yes, there was the possibility their mission had been compromised, yes, if Command asks he’ll take the blame for everything he should have known better he should have figured it out earlier… Kyungsoo doesn’t mention that every night he wakes up choking on thick, black smoke-though he’s used to that, that doesn’t bother him. The worst part is that every night he wakes feeling the soft press of Jongin’s lips against his own, he wakes desperate for touch, for the slide of Jongin’s skin against his own, for Jongin’s warm breath against the shell of his ear. Because fuck Jongin couldn’t just leave with Kyungsoo’s trust, he had to take Kyungsoo’s heart with him-a heart Kyungsoo used to believe he didn’t have.
“Okay, well, you’re going to be instrumental when we launch our raid on K.E.X.O.’s stronghold,” Junmyeon sighs, handing Kyungsoo the usual folder. Plane ticket, hotel information, well-intentioned aspirin prescription like Junmyeon doesn’t trust Kyungsoo to properly medicate himself. Junmyeon knows him so well.
“Do you-” Kyungsoo finds himself saying before he can come to his senses and stop talking. “Do you ever wonder if you’re fighting for the right side?”
“What are you…” Junmyeon asks, trailing off as he stares worriedly at Kyungsoo. “You know I’m technically supposed to report you saying stuff like that.”
“But you won’t,” Kyungsoo laughs dryly, waving a hand. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I’m going to go.”
Junmyeon is silent as Kyungsoo grabs his papers and heads for the door. But just before Kyungsoo disappears into the corridor, he hears a soft voice from behind him.
“Sometimes…sometimes I wonder,” Junmyeon whispers, giving Kyungsoo a wan smile. Kyungsoo nods once, then leaves the room. But seeds of an idea start to bloom in his mind, pushing out the dark anger and despair that have tried to take root there.
There’s nothing Kyungsoo likes better than an impossible mission.
“So, which way did you say were the stairs down to the basement?” Minseok asks again as he and Kyungsoo creep around the backside of what for Kyungsoo is a horribly familiar-looking building in the middle of Seoul. Kyungsoo feels a momentary pang of sympathy for Minseok, cutting through all the anger and apprehension he’s grown used to grappling with lately. Minseok hasn’t been on a real mission in years, but for this raid Command decided that they needed every top operative.
“They’re kind of hard to miss, off on the right side of the room,” Kyungsoo repeats, fingers sliding across the trigger of the gun he’s holding out in front of him, half-expecting to be attacked at any second. So far, the night is silent, but Kyungsoo knows it won’t stay that way for long.
“Right,” Minseok mutters, and when Kyungsoo glances down he sees that his hands are shaking slightly around the gun he’s clutching.
“Minseok,” Kyungsoo hisses, against his better judgement which is telling him they’re supposed to be silent right now. “Get a grip. If they figure out that you’re having trouble…”
“I know, I know,” Minseok mumbles, jerking away from Kyungsoo’s voice, but Kyungsoo sees that his hands have stopped shaking. It’s like riding a bike, Kyungsoo’s found. You never really forget how to shoot someone, no matter how much you want to.
“See you,” Kyungsoo whispers when they reach the side door Junmyeon’s schematics told them about. Minseok has to continue around to join up with a group of other agents they’ve been told are closing in on their position. Kyungsoo has a different job.
As Kyungsoo ducks in the side door, slipping silently down the staircase it had been concealing, he wonders whether Command suspects how much he knows. It would be hard for them not to-he’d mentioned Luhan in his debriefing, but he hadn’t mentioned the folder he’d found. He hadn’t mentioned how much he wanted to personally strangle every single person involved in that experiment, how much he wanted to laugh at their empty professions of “morality” and “fighting for good.” He supposes there’s only one way to figure out how much they know. If they think he knows about the collaboration, they’ll send someone to kill him. Simple. Clean.
Kyungsoo reaches the bottom of the stairs and pauses as he tries to get his bearings. If Junmyeon knows what he’s talking about, he should be right next to the corridor where Luhan’s being held, provided they haven’t moved him. Kyungsoo’s banking on the fact that the little cell they’d built was probably very expensive and very difficult to move.
When he finally steps into the empty corridor, everything is silent. So the other agents haven’t started to launch an attack yet.
It takes Kyungsoo about five seconds to see him-sitting despondently on the floor of his cell, throwing a small rubber ball at the wall and catching it whenever it bounces back. It’s not until Kyungsoo gets closer that he sees that Luhan’s arms aren’t moving. But by then Luhan has noticed him, abandoning the ball altogether to jump over to where Kyungsoo is standing, smiling at him through the glass.
“Finally!” Luhan pouts, pressing both palms and his nose against the glass. “I almost thought you’d forgotten me.”
“Trust me,” Kyungsoo snorts, as he walks over to one edge of the cell and starts placing the charges they’ve equipped him with. “You’re not very forgettable.”
“I’m sorry about Jongin,” Luhan says quietly, but it’s enough to make Kyungsoo freeze in his tracks, turning to face Luhan with his mouth smoothed into a blank line.
“I’m not going to ask how you know,” Kyungsoo finally says, Luhan fidgeting in place, eyes flashing between fearful and curious. “But I am going to ask you not to talk about it.”
“Okay,” Luhan grumbles, taking a few steps back from the glass. “But only because you love him and he loves you. That means that no matter what, you’ll be together. That’s what happens in all my books.”
“Real life isn’t like the storybooks,” Kyungsoo replies coldly as he goes back to setting charges along the edges of the Luhan’s cell. Luhan eyes him mischievously, and if he weren’t so fragile and young Kyungsoo thinks he might find it all too easy to blame him for the death of Kyungsoo’s parents, for Kyungsoo’s empty childhood, for the fact that everyone Kyungsoo has ever known and cared about has betrayed him.
“Some people get to live in fairytales,” Luhan sing-songs, before backing away into the corner of his cell, sitting down under the small table placed there and peering out at Kyungsoo through the chair legs blocking his face. “You’re going to blow this place up now.”
“Not the whole place,” Kyungsoo says with a grim smile as he activates the timers. Five seconds later-Luhan cowering under his small table, Kyungsoo pressed up against the wall a little ways down the corridor-an entire wall of the glassy prison shatters into dust.
It takes Kyungsoo thirty seconds to clear the smoke and dust out of his eyes, cough the stench of burning plastic out of his nose and mouth. And, in those thirty seconds, Luhan disappears. Kyungsoo darts forward as soon as he can see well enough, trying to determine whether Luhan wasn’t standing far enough away, whether he accidentally got caught by the blast, because Kyungsoo may want more than anything to blame Luhan for his problems but he’d never meant to, never wanted to kill him-
Kyungsoo’s distracted from his frantic search by a small, sharp noise coming from the end of the hallway. He whirls around just in time to see Luhan disappearing around the corner, small shoes clattering loudly on the polished floor.
Damn kid, Kyungsoo swears to himself as he takes off after Luhan, determined not to lose him. Of course, that’s when the alarms start to blare. Kyungsoo hisses in pain at the sudden noise, barely managing to see Luhan’s small form sliding down a side corridor. He follows, cursing Luhan for making this more difficult than it has to be. He was supposed to go in unnoticed, grab the kid, and make it out before the first wave of offense. Easy. If only.
Kyungsoo follows Luhan through room after room, down tiny hallways where Kyungsoo practically has to turn sideways to fit and huge echoing tunnels that make Kyungsoo wonder how no one has seen them yet. It’s not until Kyungsoo is gasping for breath, wondering how Luhan could possibly have so much stamina, that Luhan starts to slow. At first it’s nearly imperceptible. But gradually Kyungsoo realizes that he’s gaining on him. Never one to trust something good so easily, Kyungsoo starts to slow himself, expecting Luhan to leap ahead again. But instead Luhan unexpectedly yanks open a door and practically throws himself through it, letting it bang shut behind him. Kyungsoo grabs the door handle, hauls it open, and is about to continue running when all of a sudden he collides with something very large and very warm and somehow finds himself on the floor, his gun flipping out of his waistband and skittering off into a dark corner.
“Shit!” the something moans, stumbling backwards and assessing its injuries. Kyungsoo briefly feels affronted-after all, he’s the one flat on his back with all the wind knocked out of him, this other person can’t possibly be worse off-until his mind finally registers the familiar voice and Kyungsoo feels like all the breath has been knocked out of him all over again.
It’s Jongin.
“Kyungsoo?” Jongin says in surprise, moving forwards just as Kyungsoo starts to scramble backwards, hands feeling fruitlessly across the floor for his gun.
“I-You-Get away from me!” Kyungsoo hisses angrily when he feels his back hit the unforgiving wall. He would try to stand but from the way his head is ringing he’s fairly certain that standing is currently beyond his physical capabilities. How annoying.
“Kyungsoo, what are you doing here?” Jongin asks desperately, and Kyungsoo wonders how Jongin could possibly be so stupid. It’s kind of hard to miss the sirens still ringing in the corridor and the background thud of running feet.
“What do you think?” he spits, focusing as hard as he can to try to keep the scene in front of him from blurring. “I’m leading the raid against you. We’re going to destroy you.”
“It’s not me you’re here to destroy,” Jongin says softly, taking another step forward, and Kyungsoo feels a sharp spike of anger deep in his gut. It’s not fair. It’s not fair, it’s not fair that Jongin is standing here talking to him like this, like they’re friends, like Jongin cares about him, when Kyungsoo can’t decide whether he wants to put a bullet through Jongin’s stomach or kiss him until all the air is gone from his lungs.
“I’m not alone this time,” Kyungsoo lies, because maybe technically he isn’t but at this moment, in this room, he very much is. “If you kill me, someone will know. You won’t get away with it.”
“Why would I want to kill you?” Jongin frowns, confusion clear in his voice. Kyungsoo hates it, hates how easy it seems to be for Jongin. Nothing has ever been easy when it comes to Kyungsoo.
But before Kyungsoo can respond, before he can give Jongin a hundred-a thousand-reasons why they should want to kill each other, why Kyungsoo absolutely should not be thinking right now about how pretty Jongin’s eyes are, the door across the room from them slams open.
Spinning around, Kyungsoo sees a man standing in the doorway-the same man who had been with Yixing when they’d been taken off the plane. The man with the tattoos and the deep voice.
“So here’s our little runaway,” the man laughs, stepping forward into the room, and that’s when Kyungsoo sees that the man has a gun pointed directly at his chest. “More trouble than you’re worth, if you ask me. And I have it on good authority that you won’t last very long at the hands of our disgusting co-workers so you’ll probably thank me for this. Or you would, if you weren’t going to be dead.”
And with that, the man cocks his pistol and Kyungsoo’s mind flashes back to the only time he’d ever gotten shot. The pain, blooming red-hot across his body, mouth screaming in time with his heartbeats squeezing precious blood out onto the dark pavement. He wonders how much dying is going to hurt. But then there’s a sound from behind him and both he and the man turn to look.
“Chanyeol,” Jongin says, and Kyungsoo sees through the haze clouding his vision that Jongin is holding a gun himself, pointed right at the man’s chest.
“Jongin-what?” Chanyeol gasps, sounding terribly confused and slightly scared, and Kyungsoo realizes with a jolt why the name had sounded so familiar. Why the name Sehun had stuck in his memory like a burr. He’s heard them before. Why hadn’t he made that connection, remembered all of Jongin’s stories from that interminable plane ride?
“I can’t-I won’t let you do this,” Jongin says, and though the words are firm his voice is shaking as hard as the walls around them as Kyungsoo hears explosions and shouting off in the distance. A fiery belch shoots through the door Chanyeol had just come through and sets a line of tables along the edge of the room ablaze. But none of them move from their strange tableaux-Kyungsoo on the floor, Chanyeol’s gun aimed at Kyungsoo, Jongin’s gun aimed at Chanyeol.
“Why the fuck do you care what happens to him?” Chanyeol asks in what appears to Kyungsoo to be legitimate amazement. For a strange second the name of that music video Chanyeol had loved so many years ago pops into Kyungsoo’s head and he wants to throw up.
“Look, maybe this concept is too hard for your tiny brain to understand,” Jongin spits harshly, and Kyungsoo sees Chanyeol recoil the way someone does when they’ve just had an old, cruel nickname leveled at them by a friend who knew how much it hurt them. “But I care about him, okay? I’ve spent so much time with him these past few weeks, and I-”
"So, let me get this straight,” Chanyeol says with a slightly hysterical laugh. “You would kill me, the person who’s been your best friend for your entire life, ever since my father decided that you were worth saving from that gutter we found you in. You would kill me to protect this person you barely know, and who would 100% kill you if the situation were reversed.”
“Kyungsoo isn’t like that-” Jongin shoots back, but even to Kyungsoo’s ears it sounds weak, pathetic, useless. Kyungsoo feels weak, pathetic, useless.
“Jongin,” Chanyeol says firmly, and when he stands like that-black silhouette outlined by the flames licking along the back wall of the room-Kyungsoo can see why his symbol is the phoenix. “Put down the gun.”
“Make me,” Jongin hisses, but before Chanyeol can do anything to respond the doorframe that had been buckling under the heat of the fire snaps and half the ceiling starts to thunder down on them.
“Run, damn it!” Jongin screams, grabbing Kyungsoo’s arm and dragging him to his feet, the both of them racing out the back door of the room before the dust clears. Kyungsoo doesn’t see what happens to Chanyeol.
“What’s happening?” Kyungsoo gasps as they stumble into another smoke-clogged hallway, the ground shaking every few seconds from nearby explosions.
“E.X.O.,” Jongin replies grimly, coughing into his sleeve. “They’ve apparently decided that the best thing to do with K.E.X.O.’s hideout is completely destroy it.”
“Well, I wish they could have waited until I got out, at least,” Kyungsoo grunts, ducking a chunk of plaster that’s been knocked loose from the wall. But he knows that E.X.O. never does anything by accident. It’s not as simple, or neat, or clean as having him assassinated, but under normal circumstances it would do the job. Even the best-trained agent can’t escape a cage of fire and falling rock. “Now, nobody would mind much if you got buried here.”
“Again, Kyungsoo, I’m so sorry for not telling you about...this!” Jongin shouts over the whine of alarms and the roar of a basement tunnel suddenly opening to the upper world. Kyungsoo ignores him, though inside his brain is warring with his shattered heart. Jongin betrayed him. Jongin saved him. Jongin, Jongin, Jongin. Damn Jongin.
“Here,” Jongin gasps, shoving something cold and metallic into Kyungsoo’s hand. His fingers curl instinctively around the handle. “Take this.”
“Why are you giving me a gun?” Kyungsoo asks, although he’s already starting to feel a bit calmer, standing up straighter as he walks down the corridor with the gun raised protectively in front of him.
“Because I’ve only ever shot people who were standing still,” Jongin explains, and for a second Kyungsoo can see hope shimmering in his eyes.
Of course that’s when Sehun decides to start shooting at them. Not that Kyungsoo sees who it is-he’s already on the floor, scrambling to get behind a pile of rubble that provides them with a small bit of cover. It takes him a few seconds-damn all those months of working alone-to realize that Jongin is still standing bolt upright, squinting into the haze of dust and smoke to try to see who their assailant is. And that’s how Kyungsoo figures it out.
“Come out, come out, you filthy traitor,” Sehun sing-songs, and even if Kyungsoo didn’t recognize his voice, he’s the first logical person Chanyeol would tell about Jongin’s little decision, provided he survived the room collapsing around him. Maybe Chanyeol really is a phoenix, Kyungsoo thinks wildly. Reborn from the ashes.
“Jongin,” Kyungsoo hisses. “Get the fuck down!”
When Jongin doesn’t listen to him, instead continuing to stare into the haze with a horrified expression on his face, Kyungsoo takes matters into his own hands. Moving into a crouch, he waits until he hears a clatter and a grunt of annoyance-probably Sehun stumbling over a piece of debris. Then he makes his move.
Jumping out from his hiding spot, he practically tackles Jongin, using his inertia to drive both of them into the narrow corridor he’d spotted directly across from them. Before Jongin even hits the ground, Kyungsoo is hauling him upright and forcing him forward, as gunshots start to ring into his ears. There’s more of them this time-more than Sehun could be responsible for on his own. So he’s got help now.
“You know,” Kyungsoo gasps, remembering suddenly as he pulls the both of them behind a nearby column and listens for the sound of feet running past. “When you said you had a complicated childhood, I didn’t think you meant you were raised by mafia dons.”
“Well, I’ve learned it’s not something you bring up in polite company!” Jongin protests, pressing a hand to the stitch in his side. A sputter of gunfire from behind them has Kyungsoo jumping forward, dragging Jongin along with him until he finally starts to move by himself.
As they run side by side down the dim hallway, stumbling every now and then as another ringing boom echoes through the complex, Kyungsoo starts to laugh. And once he does, he can’t stop. It doesn’t matter that they’re in danger of being shot or blown up any minute. It doesn’t matter that his head aches and his legs are sore and his chest is burning. Because he’s alive and Jongin...for once Kyungsoo savors the feeling of being on fire.
“This way,” Jongin calls over Kyungsoo’s laughter, and he can’t help but smile himself as they race up a flight of steps and finally pour out into the cool night air.
“God, this air feels so good,” Kyungsoo sighs, collapsing against the wall of the building they’ve just left-probably some sort of alternate exit-and grinning when Jongin sits down beside him.
“What are we going to do now?” Jongin asks quietly, staring wide-eyed at a large building sitting squat against the skyline several hundred meters away. A building that is currently glowing orange with fire and black with smoke as parts of it continue to collapse inwards in a rush of dust. Kyungsoo hopes that Luhan made it out all right. Something tells him that if anyone could do it, that boy could.
“I don’t know,” Kyungsoo replies honestly, fingers sliding over the cold barrel of the gun still clutched in his fist. It feels so familiar that Kyungsoo can’t imagine a life without it. But maybe he could try.
“Well, I do know one thing for sure,” Jongin says, and when Kyungsoo glances over at him he sees that he’s grinning.
“What’s that?” Kyungsoo asks, because he’s never really been one for riddles.
“I almost shot Chanyeol for you,” Jongin murmurs, ignoring the way Kyungsoo flinches at the name. “And I know that you owe me for that.”
“I guess it’s good policy to always pay your debts to mafia brats,” Kyungsoo sighs dramatically, letting the gun slip from his fingers and fall onto the sidewalk with a muffled thunk. The way its dark surface reflects the starlight makes him think of cold, dead eyes staring into nothing. Kyungsoo is done with death.
“You’re the secret agent,” Jongin laughs softly, face suddenly so close to Kyungsoo’s that Kyungsoo can feel his warm breath pressing against his cheek. “You tell me.”
And maybe Kyungsoo would tell him, but he can’t at the moment because his mouth is otherwise occupied. Jongin tastes like mystery, and adventure, and loyalty, and pride, and Kyungsoo can’t get enough of it, has never been able to get enough. Jongin tastes like mint and comfort and starlight and Kyungsoo never wants to stop kissing him, wants every moment for the rest of his life to feel just like this.
Kyungsoo’s first memory is of fire.
It is a truth he has carried with him his whole life.
But it isn’t the truest thing about him. It never has been. It just means that Kyungsoo knows what it feels like to burn and sometimes-just sometimes-he doesn’t mind. Sometimes, he thinks his last memory will be of fire too.
And sometimes he thinks that might be all right.
Epilogue
It’s years before he see them again.
Junmyeon, Minseok, Jongdae. He doesn’t see them all at once-a midnight meeting in Paris one time, a coffee in Tokyo the next. He doesn’t realize how much he’s missed them until he nearly falls over at the sight of them, barely prevents himself from toppling into their arms like a child, because Kyungsoo is not a child, but sometimes he forgets the definition of the word “friend” and it never hurts to be reminded.
“We thought you were dead,” Minseok hisses the first time, angry tears rising in his eyes as he hugs Kyungsoo so tight Kyungsoo thinks he might disappear. “They told us you were dead.”
“I know,” Kyungsoo says, voice muffled by Minseok’s coat. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Minseok huffs, pulling back and hurriedly wiping his eyes so he can pretend to have just been assaulted by some pollen floating through the warm New York air. “It’s not your fault. And I did what you asked.”
“Thank you,” Kyungsoo says sincerely, smiling to keep his own eyes from misting over as he takes in the way Minseok looks so healthy, so vibrant, so happy.
“It wasn’t easy,” Junmyeon sighs, stirring his coffee so he can avoid looking into Kyungsoo’s eyes. But Kyungsoo can see that he’s smiling. “I still don’t know what you’re hoping to achieve by this.”
“To be honest, I don’t know either,” Kyungsoo says with a wry grin, reaching down to play with the thin silvery ring curling around his finger.
“But you know you have to try,” Luhan finishes with a wise nod. Kyungsoo gives him an annoyed look and Luhan giggles, curling into his enormous red sweater as Minseok cards affectionate fingers through his hair.
“What did I tell you about that, Lu?” Minseok says sternly, but Luhan simply turns and gives him such a pretty smile that the two of them burst out laughing.
“You are going to be such a tease when you grow up,” Kyungsoo snorts, flicking Luhan lightly on the arm. “But first you better teach your dad how to buy clothes from these things called ‘stores’ so people don’t think you want to spend your life drowning in ugly sweaters.”
“I like this sweater,” Luhan sniffs, small fingers clenching tightly around the brightly colored threads. “It makes me happy.”
“I’m glad,” Kyungsoo says with a smile, placing a warm hand on his shoulder.
“I still want to know your secret,” Junmyeon laughs, pulling away from Kyungsoo’s touch and taking a large sip of his coffee. “How do you manage to stay on the run from basically everyone on the planet while still smiling like that?”
“It’s the little things,” Kyungsoo replies with a grin, because he knows Junmyeon has always been a sucker for cliches.
Kyungsoo isn’t sure Jongdae is even going to show up, that crisp winter day when he uses the information Junmyeon’s unearthed to contact him. He’s almost given up-standing up from the dirty park bench he’s been waiting on for the past hour and preparing to walk back to the car-when he hears a soft sound from behind him, like someone clearing their throat. Kyungsoo doesn’t even get the chance to spin fully around before Jongdae is tackling him, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug and mumbling endless sentences into his hair.
“I’m so, so, sorry,” Jongdae whispers and Kyungsoo smiles weakly because he knows how much it hurts to say those words, he knows just how hotly it burns.
“I know it wasn’t your decision,” Kyungsoo says, clutching Jongdae close the way he never would have if he were still the person he’d been for most of his life.
“God, Kyungsoo, they threatened my family, they threatened my friends, they threatened you, anything to get me to play dead,” Jongdae gasps, the words tumbling over each other faster than he can keep up.
“Do you know why, Jongdae?” Kyungsoo asks soothingly, pulling back so he can look into Jongdae’s warm, dark eyes. “Why did they make you disappear?”
“I don’t know,” Jongdae replies worriedly, familiar frown lines creeping across his forehead. Kyungsoo decides to forgive him for not wanting to hear about New York and horse racing. “All I know is, they said you were getting complacent, comfortable, that I needed to disappear because I was slowing you down.”
“Jongdae, Jongdae you’ve never slowed me down,” Kyungsoo smiles, and Jongdae smiles back and it’s like the sun has decided to shine just a little bit brighter.
“Thanks for the visit,” Zitao drawls, now-dark hair swept up, low-cut tanktop hanging off his right shoulder. He’s still terribly handsome, and Kyungsoo is still terribly interested in what he knows. “Now get out before I come to my senses and make a call.”
“I’ll be seeing you,” Kyungsoo smirks as he disappears off into the dark.
“No, no, don’t call us, we’ll call you,” Baekhyun grins smugly as he grabs Yifan’s tie to pull him back when Yifan starts to wander away from the table they’re sitting at. “But, then again, we apparently don’t have any way to contact you. So that might not work out.”
“I have ways of getting in touch,” Kyungsoo replies, idly stirring his expensive drink and wishing he hadn’t been forced into a suit for this meeting. “If you’re interested in helping me get some information.”
“Well, as they say, everyone has their price,” Baekhyun sighs, leaning back in his chair and eyeing Kyungsoo steadily.
“And for you, our price might be quite reasonable indeed,” Yifan finishes, giving Kyungsoo a small smile. “We like you.”
Chanyeol calls, just once, but once is enough.
“Look, I still don’t like you,” he says when he hears Kyungsoo’s voice on the other end of the line. “And I’d still probably kill you if given the chance. Sehun would definitely kill you. But just...tell Jongin that I meant what I said. He’ll know what I’m talking about.”
“Take care of him,” Jongin says, ruffling Luhan’s hair as he stands beside Kyungsoo, arm in arm, smiling at Minseok. “And thank you for helping us. I know it won’t be easy, but I think we can do this.”
“You’re the best of the best,” Jongin says, as Junmyeon blushes and chokes on a too-large sip of coffee. “We’re going to get you out of there, Junmeyon. Somewhere people will appreciate your talents and stop you from putting so much sugar in your coffee.”
“He’ll come,” Jongin says firmly, grabbing the back of Kyungsoo’s coat and pulling him back onto the park bench when Kyungsoo stands up in frustration, ready to walk away. “Just be patient.”
“I still don’t know why you trust him,” Jongin sighs as they watch Zitao’s lithe form disappear into the shadows. “But I bet he knows more about K.E.X.O. than he’s letting on.”
“You’re making a very astute business decision, if I do say so myself,” Jongin smirks, reaching out to shake hands with Baekhyun. Kyungsoo wonders idly how long their little staring contest is going to last before he or Yifan have to intervene. For some reason neither of them can resist their small competitions.
“Oh, I see how it is, Park,” Jongin snorts into the phone, and Kyungsoo can hear the answering laugh from half a room away. “You only want to help me now that I’m a fugitive. Oh, sure, like I ever needed that to make me more interesting.”
“Do you think we’ll actually be able to do this?” Kyungsoo asks, admiring the way their fingers look twined together in his lap.
“What, bring down one of the most infamous spy organizations in the world along with the people who are supposed to be fighting them?” Jongin laughs, sound bright and warm in the stuffy air of their room.
“Well, it sounds much more intimidating when you put it like that,” Kyungsoo sighs, untangling their hands so he can pick up the gun sitting on the table in front of him and check that the safety is off.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Jongin replies, rising from his seat and pulling his dark jacket tighter around his slim frame. He holds out a hand for Kyungsoo to take and Kyungsoo does, letting himself be pulled upright.
“Let’s go,” Kyungsoo agrees, hoisting up his backpack from its spot beside the door and grabbing the door handle. The last thing he expects is for Jongin to suddenly yank him around, Kyungsoo’s hand slipping roughly off the cool metal as his back bangs awkwardly against the smooth wood.
“For luck,” Jongin mutters, leaning down to kiss him again.
Kyungsoo’s never been afraid of fire.
The first gunshot slams through the door high above their heads-someone has very poor aim and very poor timing, Kyungsoo thinks with a disgruntled sigh. But it takes mere seconds for them to be up and out the fire escape, scrambling down the cold metal staircase as shouts echo from the empty room behind them.
As they slide smoothly away into the shadowy city, Kyungsoo thinks he can see a fiery orange glow on the horizon. Jongin’s hand tightens around his own.
Then all that’s left are the stars.