Angel Maker 24/27
title: Angel Maker
chapter rating: PG
warnings: mild language
summary: Mathematically gifted Oh Sehun makes a miscalculation that could cost him his life when he agrees to run an errand for an old high school acquaintance. The job brings Sehun face to face with much more than he'd bargained for and suddenly he has to question the binary makings of his existence, eventually ending up coming across the most delicate secret hosted by a quasi-governmental data bank.
story notes: See the foreword for more information on the story.
He finds he is back to the doorway, standing by the boy.
Time has not advanced. Instead, Sehun finds the doctor, whose name he now knows is standing at the doorway, holding on to the boy's hand. The doctor parts his lips and speaks his name: Do Kyungsoo. Sehun observes their face. The young man appears as though his eyes were sparkling with care. But it is not the same kind as earlier. Instead, it goes much deeper. It goes to their very core. It is care that suggests they have an idea of what is going to happen. Sehun is not the only one who knows, he realizes; the young doctor has, in a way or another, foreseen his future. With this, he is in a hurry to speak his mind. Minutes have run out and he is treading on borrowed seconds.
"Name? You have a name?" says the boy who has now pulled his hand from the grip of the doctor's. But Sehun does not focus on the boy. Instead, he watches the doctor keenly. The shadows behind him in the dim corridor are moving like waves. There is something waiting, lurking in the dark, something unexpected yet what the doctor has known to anticipate, only the timing has been unclear to him. The boy seems preoccupied with the doctor and thus does not pay mind to it despite his fears for the darkness and the long shadows of the maze-like corridors are obvious.
"Yes, I have a name", speaks the doctor. His expression changes. Sehun finds the shadows have pronounced a pair of hands, long fingers crawling into his line of sight through the dark neat hair. He realizes it is not guilt written over the man's face: it is sorrow, thick, painful, and regret, heavy as a curtain. Regret over not having been able to be honest with the boy. Regret over not having been capable of telling the boy everything. The young doctor gives their best shot. "You, too", he continues speaking, the hands having stopped by the sides of his head, a firm grip with fingertips close to his temples. Sehun wants to interfere, knowing what'll come; but he cannot. It is not his place. This is meant to happen. "You have a name. It--"
A firm twist: the hands turn their head far to the side. A sudden, painless death.
The boy does not react.
It is surprising to witness how calm he remains looking at the young doctor's body lying on the floor. His face does not twist with fear, surprise or pain. The teen looks down at the body, breathing calmly, the glazed blankness back upon their face. Sehun looks curiously at the boy and how the other does not seem to be, at least not clearly going through any set of emotions. Does the teen realize what has happened? Most likely yes: they do not attempt to wake the doctor nor do they speak the newly learned name. It is clear the concept of death, just like the concept of names or emotions is familiar to him, but somehow far or untouchable to the boy's mind.
The shadow becomes a person in front of Sehun's eyes. Or rather, the person steps into the light from the shades and the halogens and the shade of slowly brightening night falling in through the small, high window give them clear features. It is another boy, and Sehun knows the two are probably the same age. But there are things fundamentally very different about this person. They are angry, it is clear on their face. The new boy regrets what he has done, Sehun can tell, but somehow the necessity and unavoidability of their actions speaks for itself. This person knows he could not have done anything else to come through this situation. Equipped with a goal that is becoming clear to Sehun as he watches the male person step further in to the room over the body on the floor the new boy is driven with ambition to get what he wants. It is something that has been bestowed upon him by someone else, perhaps a command of sorts, and there is no space for failure left.
He has expected them to attack; but instead, opposed to what he has expected, the person reaches to take the boy's hand, his face softening as he holds it in a manner that seems like a tight firm shake, and the blank eyed boy looks down at their linked fingers. "I am sorry", the other boy says, "but I have to take you with me."
Seemingly not bothered by this whatsoever but concerned with something else entirely the boy looks back up at the newcomer's face. This boy has pleasant but somewhat rough features: his jaw is fairly strong and his eyes are quite narrow yet joyous like they could find something positive in this pain and trouble. Their ears, too, are ever so slightly protruding and their hair is dark and somewhat messily cut compared to the neatness of the other's. Compared to the boy Sehun has watched since the deepest hours of night this young man is clearly physically much stronger, yet their build is quite slim under their dark clothing that has allowed them to blend into the shadows. Looking at them the boy regains some of the emotion that has been present in their large eyes, appearing curious as they ask, "Do you have a name, too?"
Sehun finds the other boy also wears a hospital bracelet with numbers written over it. Their hands bear small scars that are visible only when he turns slightly and the light hits his pale skin. "Yes", they say. Their voice isn't entirely as soft as the other's, but bright and pleasant nevertheless. There's a chiming edge to it. "I'm called Chen."
"Chen", repeats the boy with a slow nod. "And you have to take me somewhere."
"Yes", replies Chen with a considerable lack of haste, but a firmness that opposes their relaxed manner. "Come."
Instead of letting the other tug him out to the dark vast corridors, however, the boy stands still with a small frown. "You have a name. I have a name, too?"
It seems to be a troublesome situation for Chen. A smile remains on his lips, but the young man appears to be struggling to decide what to do. He has come here with a very good plan and conviction to take the boy to where they're supposed to go. While it is clear that Chen's confidence has not faltered and that he remains as steadfast it is obvious he has not expected this exchange, not entirely. But as Sehun looks on at the young man's face and back at the boy, again, he finds there is something happening between them: a silent discussion of sorts. They're firmly staring back at each other. The boy's frown remains as if to ask the other what is happening, while Chen's steady expression is beginning to waver. He observes the dark but in a way cheerfully shaped eyes to find what he can identify as fondness. There is some level of emotional attachment, a bond of a kind between these two, but his knowledge is not sufficient to state whether they have met before. It might be one-sided, Sehun does not know; but he can be certain Chen bears significant feelings toward the boy.
Chen pulls the boy's arm, then, and like the other had forgotten to resist the teen stumbles forward, over the body, and into the shadows of the corridor. Sehun is quick to follow. The young man pulls the boy gently toward the opposite end of the corridor, not where Sehun knows the room with the television is.
"Yes", Chen says at last with a nod and looks at the teen that seems to struggle for a second to remember what has their question been.
Chen waits for the boy to speak and Sehun follows the expressions on their faces keenly. The boy is confused, taken aback by what is happening around him, that much is clear. It seems he has no idea where are they headed but it is obvious Chen knows well and won't let anyone stop him. Sehun is surprised to find the boy peer his way at times, as though he'd known of Sehun's presence, but Chen does not seem to notice or then he knows not to pay attention to it. At last the boy asks a little breathlessly, "Then, what is my name?"
"I'll tell you after the dark", says the other, offers a confident smile, and pulls the boy ahead down the corridor.
Sehun can hear yells. Something is going on, something besides Chen leading the boy ahead. He does not focus on it, but it is impossible to fully ignore it. The air feels pressuring. They've come far from the room and he cannot point which way have they come. They have not seen people on the way, and he is certain something has attracted the attention of everyone in the faculty elsewhere. Maybe they have found the body; maybe there are, in fact, many more bodies. Has Chen killed more than one tonight, and for what purpose? It might not be his place to pose all these questions, but Sehun cannot help it. He does not understand the man's motive of leading the boy so hurriedly down the twisting and turning corridors past closed doors, through the dark grey shadows, across another leisurely room at a crossroads and on and on. The building is endless.
At last they come to a large lobby like a living room: there are comfortable benches and sofas, a reception of sorts and what seems to be an elevator to the side. But he comes to find they are not some meters underground as he has wondered earlier. One of the walls of the lobby is but glass, a window to the outside world, revealing a sight toward what appears like a square courtyard. They are at least three floors above ground. The boy's astonishment is obvious: he pulls the breaks, his bare feet firmly pressed against the polished plastic floor, and Chen seems powerless to force him on without hurting him. Sehun watches the round eyes stare down at the wonderful plants down at ground level: trees, flowers, all asleep in the purple night. It is clear, looking at the sky, that dawn is coming close, as the canvas spread above this place is growing lighter with ripples of grey little clouds spread here and there. The moon is not visible from where they are looking. It is fascinating to see the outside world at last even though the grey sturdy walls surrounding the courtyard make it look like there was nothing else. It is impossible to tell whether this is in fact a part of a city of sorts, or located in the midst of nothing. The boy looks like he had never seen anything like this.
At last Chen tugs on the teen's wrist to continue. Reluctantly, clearly captivated by this sight the boy lets himself be pulled away from the window. Instead of taking the elevator, however, Chen pulls him past it to the dark staircase. It is obvious that even though he is still taken aback by the beauty of the nightly garden the boy does not enjoy the dark, shuddering as Chen tugs him to the stairs lit only by little emergency LEDs.
His view changes from the lobby to a floor below. The boy stumbles in the stairs; Chen catches him, helping him down to the landing, and leads the way down another flight of steps. It is beginning to dawn upon Sehun what Chen is doing, where they are headed for. This is what he has been brought here to see, he realizes.
Before he can think of it, about what it means and whether he understands why, the two young men are brought to a halt at the next floor. It appears to be the ground level, as the stairs do not go on. It is dim, but not entirely dark with torches lit and pointed at them. Chen pushes the teen behind his back, not to hide him but to protect, it is certain by how gently he handles the other. Sehun moves to the side to view the situation from further away. The teens at the bottom of the stairs are faced by a few men in doctors' outfits and a few who appear to be guards, wearing dark overalls with fabric badges of sorts to indicate their profession stitched on to their uniforms. They all have torches, and the guards hold plastic batons. The pressure is imminent, the air tense and pregnant with what he can only assume is a mixture of fear and hatred. The doctors must all be asking themselves why are the boys here and how have they come this far. It is clear by how he has seen people look at the teen like something dislikeable, treat him with such terror, and by his doll-like behaviour and the clean, neat room that this is certainly not where he ought to be: he should not roam by himself, nor with the other young man. Do they know of what Chen has done? He concludes they must with how they seem well prepared.
Yet, it appears to not be enough. With a small gesture of his hand Chen makes certain the boy behind him is standing tight, close to the wall; then, with speed Sehun has not expected considering how quietly and slowly they have moved all this time he launches at the crowd of staff.
They break apart like a flock of birds, but it is clear they have not anticipated this attack. They have come here, believing they can reason with the boys, most likely trusting that the two have only been roaming, somehow managed to get lost on their own. But that is certainly not the case, and Sehun knows this. In the dark, a torch drops onto the floor, the glass shattering.
He shifts back to the stairs, remaining by the boy who appears as though he had no understanding of what is happening. He does not display fear or disquiet, listening to the abrupt yells and screams and the sound of torches falling along with the bodies. He watches quietly, a steady frown upon his face, and Sehun concludes he is trying his best to comprehend but cannot draw connections between what's happening and what should he feel about it. It isn't that he'd lack moral understanding or knowledge of this being wrong; but inside his head, he requires time to put it into an order. It's like a puzzle that's fallen apart. Looking at him, having observed him for the night, Sehun has come to realize this. The boy is not ill. He simply does not understand human emotion although it resides somewhere deep inside him. Maybe it only applies to pain and sorrow; nothing about the events of the night have proven whether he'd have as hard a time to understand laughter, enjoyment… This boy is not a symbol, not a metaphor, but something that actually exists; not a doll, not a machine, but somehow someone forgot to include the little red threads connecting emotion to action and the other way around in him. Sehun now understands this. Somehow, everything about this place makes sense, suddenly, and he succumbs into his thoughts as he watches the empty, deep brown eyes staring back at him. It is not a hospital, but it exists and revolves around the fact that this boy exists, too. The line between trying to impose emotional reactions on him and finding out whether he is capable of feeling such things is thin, probably blurred, but it is not the most important thing about this faculty.
It is a small moment, but it feels like time extended on forever while he's lost in the bottomless eyes. It is clear the boy knows of his fleeting presence, knows he is here, he knows Sehun is looking at them. They do not appear fearful. They do not appear very surprised, either. He could swear everything around them is standing still as the boy parts his lips to speak, his soft voice intending the words only to Sehun and no one else. "You're here."
It is a simple statement. Sehun gives a small nod of his head. Has it been intended for the boy to know of his being here, he wonders; has the boy, perhaps, affected his returning here to witness what is happening?
But before he can gather enough of the beautiful, serene face to answer his questions they are swallowed by darkness: the last of the torches switching off silence falls into the corridors.
He finds the boy taking his hand, pulling him along in the deep darkness as they are being led through the corridors. At times in the light of emergency lamps and exit signs he catches sight of Chen pulling the boy ahead. He cannot help but wonder whether the other young man knows of his presence as well, or if only the teen whose delicate, cool fingers are wrapped tightly around his to bind him here is aware of him. Maybe it does not matter, but it surprises him and makes him scared on one level as he cannot say whether it is wrong or against the rules of his presence. But the boy does not seem concerned by such trivial questions as they forge on.
"Where are we going?" the boy asks as they've come to what appears to be yet another lobby.
It is large, tall, and very official and clean. There is a square carpet set underneath a long modern sofa, dark in colour, and a boxy, low coffee table in front of the seat. On the wall hangs a flat, completely new television with its power off, the shiny screen reflecting the flickers of lights that are the bright green exit signs in the high ceiling. The floor is polished like stone, a black-and-white chessboard, but he concludes it must be made of plastic. The reception is empty. There is a small potful of flowers on top of the light wooden, fine counter. On its side it spells a name whose meaning he cannot read, but which he knows just like he knows little, odd details about this place and the boy: Angel Manufacturers.
Only upon seeing the thick but elaborate metal writing and the logo, resembling an hourglass shape but with multiple spheres surrounding its structure he comes to think of the little fact that has been in front of his eyes the whole time. This boy is not a doll, not a machine, but manmade to an extent nevertheless, manufactured, birthed, raised, taught here in this corporation of a faculty. Whether he has parents or any kind of a family to begin with Sehun does not know, but he is strongly leaning toward a negative. It seems likely that the teen has never been told of his past. Does he even know, himself, why is he being held here?
Chen slows down, and they halt by the reception. For a moment nobody speaks, and they are surrounded by a focused silence. He cannot pick up any sounds, not from nearby or from further away. It seems if someone is looking for them, they do not assume the two boys would be here. He watches Chen let go of the boy and step round the counter. Somehow, unable to explain the sensation, Sehun feels uncomfortable standing by the reception as though there might be something hidden behind it. But Chen does not react to anything nor does anything come to his line of sight, and in the pregnant silence the young man begins shuffling through papers and drawers in search of something.
The boy, still holding his hand, looks at Chen in perfect, undisturbed calm, waiting for a reply to his question. But this calm is different from that from the earlier. Their face is smitten with concentration, deep thoughts, and Sehun has to strain his ability to observe to make any sense of it. The boy is going through the events of the night, slowly, one by one. Whether he really understands all the emotions that go with it, the changes in the atmosphere, Sehun isn't sure just by looking at him, but he is clearly rewinding the tape inside his head, focusing on every detail like trying to understand the pattern himself as Chen has not given a full-out answer. He seems to be questioning Chen's presence entirely, not due to his actions on a moral level, but based on what has happened and what might happen from here on. It is like the boy had placed himself a set of questions of his own: why and where is Chen taking him, is it a good thing, what can come of it and what, if anything, should he do?
Before he reaches a conclusion Chen looks up at him, smiles a little, and speaks, "We're leaving. We're going outside."
The big picture seems to have become clear to the boy who turns his eyes to the flowers sleeping in the small pot. They are beautiful, well tended to; whoever takes care of them pours their love into the task. It is strange and a little out of place in a place like this, much like the young doctor's care for the boy has been. Sehun cannot say for sure whether Chen's intentions are good or whether he pursues his own benefit, but looking at the young man he feels there is certainly more to how he is making sure the boy leaves this place unharmed. He thinks about the obvious differences between these two: Chen is well informed, determined, he is certainly capable of emotion judging by his expressive eyes and the smile that visits his face at times, and yet he has killed tonight, not showing guilt or regret whatsoever. It is an odd comparison. The boy silently looking at the flowers, trying to figure his place in this equation is like day compared to the other who has moved so quietly through the shadows unnoticed.
"Outside", speaks the boy softly like mumbling to himself rather than speaking to the other. "What is it like?"
"There is someone waiting for us", Chen retorts, bending down as he shuffles through the contents of a drawer. "We are moving to a new place."
"What is it like outside?" It seems he has forgotten about Chen's promise to give him a name; the outside world seems fascinating to him. Sehun feels his pulse through the cool hand clinging onto his. Has Chen noticed this? The other still pays no mind to his presence here.
"There's sun, and plants, and cities", Chen hums and finally picks out a bunch of keys with colourful plastic tags attached to each to label them. "And people."
The boy slowly nods. His thoughts are impossible to read. Slowly he lifts his hand to touch the flower, fingertips stroking the green leaves and pink little flowers. Watching the boy in silence Sehun finds a smile curling his lips, one much like those he's seen when the teen has watched the video. It is tiny, involuntary, natural, genuine and real. And as soon as it's arrived it is gone, and he turns to Chen, looking at the other turning the keys and reading the writing on their labels. He waits patiently until Chen has found what he is looking for.
Along with the keys the other young man picks up a small pile of papers, some on clipboards, some in plastic files. Sehun cannot see their contents, but by the way the other holds them tight to make sure not one gets lost indicates they must be important; perhaps they have to do with the two of them. Coming round the counter the other takes the teen's free hand and pulls him on the move. The corridors are much less of a maze from here on. It is a short way out, but in the darkness it feels like an eternity. Chen seems just as confident about the way as he has, earlier, and the boy does not question his lead.
At last Chen stops to fiddle with the keys. He turns one in the lock, pushes open the heavy, tall door, and cool morning air hits them as they step out.
chapter rating: PG
warnings: mild language
summary: Mathematically gifted Oh Sehun makes a miscalculation that could cost him his life when he agrees to run an errand for an old high school acquaintance. The job brings Sehun face to face with much more than he'd bargained for and suddenly he has to question the binary makings of his existence, eventually ending up coming across the most delicate secret hosted by a quasi-governmental data bank.
story notes: See the foreword for more information on the story.
He finds he is back to the doorway, standing by the boy.
Time has not advanced. Instead, Sehun finds the doctor, whose name he now knows is standing at the doorway, holding on to the boy's hand. The doctor parts his lips and speaks his name: Do Kyungsoo. Sehun observes their face. The young man appears as though his eyes were sparkling with care. But it is not the same kind as earlier. Instead, it goes much deeper. It goes to their very core. It is care that suggests they have an idea of what is going to happen. Sehun is not the only one who knows, he realizes; the young doctor has, in a way or another, foreseen his future. With this, he is in a hurry to speak his mind. Minutes have run out and he is treading on borrowed seconds.
"Name? You have a name?" says the boy who has now pulled his hand from the grip of the doctor's. But Sehun does not focus on the boy. Instead, he watches the doctor keenly. The shadows behind him in the dim corridor are moving like waves. There is something waiting, lurking in the dark, something unexpected yet what the doctor has known to anticipate, only the timing has been unclear to him. The boy seems preoccupied with the doctor and thus does not pay mind to it despite his fears for the darkness and the long shadows of the maze-like corridors are obvious.
"Yes, I have a name", speaks the doctor. His expression changes. Sehun finds the shadows have pronounced a pair of hands, long fingers crawling into his line of sight through the dark neat hair. He realizes it is not guilt written over the man's face: it is sorrow, thick, painful, and regret, heavy as a curtain. Regret over not having been able to be honest with the boy. Regret over not having been capable of telling the boy everything. The young doctor gives their best shot. "You, too", he continues speaking, the hands having stopped by the sides of his head, a firm grip with fingertips close to his temples. Sehun wants to interfere, knowing what'll come; but he cannot. It is not his place. This is meant to happen. "You have a name. It--"
A firm twist: the hands turn their head far to the side. A sudden, painless death.
The boy does not react.
It is surprising to witness how calm he remains looking at the young doctor's body lying on the floor. His face does not twist with fear, surprise or pain. The teen looks down at the body, breathing calmly, the glazed blankness back upon their face. Sehun looks curiously at the boy and how the other does not seem to be, at least not clearly going through any set of emotions. Does the teen realize what has happened? Most likely yes: they do not attempt to wake the doctor nor do they speak the newly learned name. It is clear the concept of death, just like the concept of names or emotions is familiar to him, but somehow far or untouchable to the boy's mind.
The shadow becomes a person in front of Sehun's eyes. Or rather, the person steps into the light from the shades and the halogens and the shade of slowly brightening night falling in through the small, high window give them clear features. It is another boy, and Sehun knows the two are probably the same age. But there are things fundamentally very different about this person. They are angry, it is clear on their face. The new boy regrets what he has done, Sehun can tell, but somehow the necessity and unavoidability of their actions speaks for itself. This person knows he could not have done anything else to come through this situation. Equipped with a goal that is becoming clear to Sehun as he watches the male person step further in to the room over the body on the floor the new boy is driven with ambition to get what he wants. It is something that has been bestowed upon him by someone else, perhaps a command of sorts, and there is no space for failure left.
He has expected them to attack; but instead, opposed to what he has expected, the person reaches to take the boy's hand, his face softening as he holds it in a manner that seems like a tight firm shake, and the blank eyed boy looks down at their linked fingers. "I am sorry", the other boy says, "but I have to take you with me."
Seemingly not bothered by this whatsoever but concerned with something else entirely the boy looks back up at the newcomer's face. This boy has pleasant but somewhat rough features: his jaw is fairly strong and his eyes are quite narrow yet joyous like they could find something positive in this pain and trouble. Their ears, too, are ever so slightly protruding and their hair is dark and somewhat messily cut compared to the neatness of the other's. Compared to the boy Sehun has watched since the deepest hours of night this young man is clearly physically much stronger, yet their build is quite slim under their dark clothing that has allowed them to blend into the shadows. Looking at them the boy regains some of the emotion that has been present in their large eyes, appearing curious as they ask, "Do you have a name, too?"
Sehun finds the other boy also wears a hospital bracelet with numbers written over it. Their hands bear small scars that are visible only when he turns slightly and the light hits his pale skin. "Yes", they say. Their voice isn't entirely as soft as the other's, but bright and pleasant nevertheless. There's a chiming edge to it. "I'm called Chen."
"Chen", repeats the boy with a slow nod. "And you have to take me somewhere."
"Yes", replies Chen with a considerable lack of haste, but a firmness that opposes their relaxed manner. "Come."
Instead of letting the other tug him out to the dark vast corridors, however, the boy stands still with a small frown. "You have a name. I have a name, too?"
It seems to be a troublesome situation for Chen. A smile remains on his lips, but the young man appears to be struggling to decide what to do. He has come here with a very good plan and conviction to take the boy to where they're supposed to go. While it is clear that Chen's confidence has not faltered and that he remains as steadfast it is obvious he has not expected this exchange, not entirely. But as Sehun looks on at the young man's face and back at the boy, again, he finds there is something happening between them: a silent discussion of sorts. They're firmly staring back at each other. The boy's frown remains as if to ask the other what is happening, while Chen's steady expression is beginning to waver. He observes the dark but in a way cheerfully shaped eyes to find what he can identify as fondness. There is some level of emotional attachment, a bond of a kind between these two, but his knowledge is not sufficient to state whether they have met before. It might be one-sided, Sehun does not know; but he can be certain Chen bears significant feelings toward the boy.
Chen pulls the boy's arm, then, and like the other had forgotten to resist the teen stumbles forward, over the body, and into the shadows of the corridor. Sehun is quick to follow. The young man pulls the boy gently toward the opposite end of the corridor, not where Sehun knows the room with the television is.
"Yes", Chen says at last with a nod and looks at the teen that seems to struggle for a second to remember what has their question been.
Chen waits for the boy to speak and Sehun follows the expressions on their faces keenly. The boy is confused, taken aback by what is happening around him, that much is clear. It seems he has no idea where are they headed but it is obvious Chen knows well and won't let anyone stop him. Sehun is surprised to find the boy peer his way at times, as though he'd known of Sehun's presence, but Chen does not seem to notice or then he knows not to pay attention to it. At last the boy asks a little breathlessly, "Then, what is my name?"
"I'll tell you after the dark", says the other, offers a confident smile, and pulls the boy ahead down the corridor.
Sehun can hear yells. Something is going on, something besides Chen leading the boy ahead. He does not focus on it, but it is impossible to fully ignore it. The air feels pressuring. They've come far from the room and he cannot point which way have they come. They have not seen people on the way, and he is certain something has attracted the attention of everyone in the faculty elsewhere. Maybe they have found the body; maybe there are, in fact, many more bodies. Has Chen killed more than one tonight, and for what purpose? It might not be his place to pose all these questions, but Sehun cannot help it. He does not understand the man's motive of leading the boy so hurriedly down the twisting and turning corridors past closed doors, through the dark grey shadows, across another leisurely room at a crossroads and on and on. The building is endless.
At last they come to a large lobby like a living room: there are comfortable benches and sofas, a reception of sorts and what seems to be an elevator to the side. But he comes to find they are not some meters underground as he has wondered earlier. One of the walls of the lobby is but glass, a window to the outside world, revealing a sight toward what appears like a square courtyard. They are at least three floors above ground. The boy's astonishment is obvious: he pulls the breaks, his bare feet firmly pressed against the polished plastic floor, and Chen seems powerless to force him on without hurting him. Sehun watches the round eyes stare down at the wonderful plants down at ground level: trees, flowers, all asleep in the purple night. It is clear, looking at the sky, that dawn is coming close, as the canvas spread above this place is growing lighter with ripples of grey little clouds spread here and there. The moon is not visible from where they are looking. It is fascinating to see the outside world at last even though the grey sturdy walls surrounding the courtyard make it look like there was nothing else. It is impossible to tell whether this is in fact a part of a city of sorts, or located in the midst of nothing. The boy looks like he had never seen anything like this.
At last Chen tugs on the teen's wrist to continue. Reluctantly, clearly captivated by this sight the boy lets himself be pulled away from the window. Instead of taking the elevator, however, Chen pulls him past it to the dark staircase. It is obvious that even though he is still taken aback by the beauty of the nightly garden the boy does not enjoy the dark, shuddering as Chen tugs him to the stairs lit only by little emergency LEDs.
His view changes from the lobby to a floor below. The boy stumbles in the stairs; Chen catches him, helping him down to the landing, and leads the way down another flight of steps. It is beginning to dawn upon Sehun what Chen is doing, where they are headed for. This is what he has been brought here to see, he realizes.
Before he can think of it, about what it means and whether he understands why, the two young men are brought to a halt at the next floor. It appears to be the ground level, as the stairs do not go on. It is dim, but not entirely dark with torches lit and pointed at them. Chen pushes the teen behind his back, not to hide him but to protect, it is certain by how gently he handles the other. Sehun moves to the side to view the situation from further away. The teens at the bottom of the stairs are faced by a few men in doctors' outfits and a few who appear to be guards, wearing dark overalls with fabric badges of sorts to indicate their profession stitched on to their uniforms. They all have torches, and the guards hold plastic batons. The pressure is imminent, the air tense and pregnant with what he can only assume is a mixture of fear and hatred. The doctors must all be asking themselves why are the boys here and how have they come this far. It is clear by how he has seen people look at the teen like something dislikeable, treat him with such terror, and by his doll-like behaviour and the clean, neat room that this is certainly not where he ought to be: he should not roam by himself, nor with the other young man. Do they know of what Chen has done? He concludes they must with how they seem well prepared.
Yet, it appears to not be enough. With a small gesture of his hand Chen makes certain the boy behind him is standing tight, close to the wall; then, with speed Sehun has not expected considering how quietly and slowly they have moved all this time he launches at the crowd of staff.
They break apart like a flock of birds, but it is clear they have not anticipated this attack. They have come here, believing they can reason with the boys, most likely trusting that the two have only been roaming, somehow managed to get lost on their own. But that is certainly not the case, and Sehun knows this. In the dark, a torch drops onto the floor, the glass shattering.
He shifts back to the stairs, remaining by the boy who appears as though he had no understanding of what is happening. He does not display fear or disquiet, listening to the abrupt yells and screams and the sound of torches falling along with the bodies. He watches quietly, a steady frown upon his face, and Sehun concludes he is trying his best to comprehend but cannot draw connections between what's happening and what should he feel about it. It isn't that he'd lack moral understanding or knowledge of this being wrong; but inside his head, he requires time to put it into an order. It's like a puzzle that's fallen apart. Looking at him, having observed him for the night, Sehun has come to realize this. The boy is not ill. He simply does not understand human emotion although it resides somewhere deep inside him. Maybe it only applies to pain and sorrow; nothing about the events of the night have proven whether he'd have as hard a time to understand laughter, enjoyment… This boy is not a symbol, not a metaphor, but something that actually exists; not a doll, not a machine, but somehow someone forgot to include the little red threads connecting emotion to action and the other way around in him. Sehun now understands this. Somehow, everything about this place makes sense, suddenly, and he succumbs into his thoughts as he watches the empty, deep brown eyes staring back at him. It is not a hospital, but it exists and revolves around the fact that this boy exists, too. The line between trying to impose emotional reactions on him and finding out whether he is capable of feeling such things is thin, probably blurred, but it is not the most important thing about this faculty.
It is a small moment, but it feels like time extended on forever while he's lost in the bottomless eyes. It is clear the boy knows of his fleeting presence, knows he is here, he knows Sehun is looking at them. They do not appear fearful. They do not appear very surprised, either. He could swear everything around them is standing still as the boy parts his lips to speak, his soft voice intending the words only to Sehun and no one else. "You're here."
It is a simple statement. Sehun gives a small nod of his head. Has it been intended for the boy to know of his being here, he wonders; has the boy, perhaps, affected his returning here to witness what is happening?
But before he can gather enough of the beautiful, serene face to answer his questions they are swallowed by darkness: the last of the torches switching off silence falls into the corridors.
He finds the boy taking his hand, pulling him along in the deep darkness as they are being led through the corridors. At times in the light of emergency lamps and exit signs he catches sight of Chen pulling the boy ahead. He cannot help but wonder whether the other young man knows of his presence as well, or if only the teen whose delicate, cool fingers are wrapped tightly around his to bind him here is aware of him. Maybe it does not matter, but it surprises him and makes him scared on one level as he cannot say whether it is wrong or against the rules of his presence. But the boy does not seem concerned by such trivial questions as they forge on.
"Where are we going?" the boy asks as they've come to what appears to be yet another lobby.
It is large, tall, and very official and clean. There is a square carpet set underneath a long modern sofa, dark in colour, and a boxy, low coffee table in front of the seat. On the wall hangs a flat, completely new television with its power off, the shiny screen reflecting the flickers of lights that are the bright green exit signs in the high ceiling. The floor is polished like stone, a black-and-white chessboard, but he concludes it must be made of plastic. The reception is empty. There is a small potful of flowers on top of the light wooden, fine counter. On its side it spells a name whose meaning he cannot read, but which he knows just like he knows little, odd details about this place and the boy: Angel Manufacturers.
Only upon seeing the thick but elaborate metal writing and the logo, resembling an hourglass shape but with multiple spheres surrounding its structure he comes to think of the little fact that has been in front of his eyes the whole time. This boy is not a doll, not a machine, but manmade to an extent nevertheless, manufactured, birthed, raised, taught here in this corporation of a faculty. Whether he has parents or any kind of a family to begin with Sehun does not know, but he is strongly leaning toward a negative. It seems likely that the teen has never been told of his past. Does he even know, himself, why is he being held here?
Chen slows down, and they halt by the reception. For a moment nobody speaks, and they are surrounded by a focused silence. He cannot pick up any sounds, not from nearby or from further away. It seems if someone is looking for them, they do not assume the two boys would be here. He watches Chen let go of the boy and step round the counter. Somehow, unable to explain the sensation, Sehun feels uncomfortable standing by the reception as though there might be something hidden behind it. But Chen does not react to anything nor does anything come to his line of sight, and in the pregnant silence the young man begins shuffling through papers and drawers in search of something.
The boy, still holding his hand, looks at Chen in perfect, undisturbed calm, waiting for a reply to his question. But this calm is different from that from the earlier. Their face is smitten with concentration, deep thoughts, and Sehun has to strain his ability to observe to make any sense of it. The boy is going through the events of the night, slowly, one by one. Whether he really understands all the emotions that go with it, the changes in the atmosphere, Sehun isn't sure just by looking at him, but he is clearly rewinding the tape inside his head, focusing on every detail like trying to understand the pattern himself as Chen has not given a full-out answer. He seems to be questioning Chen's presence entirely, not due to his actions on a moral level, but based on what has happened and what might happen from here on. It is like the boy had placed himself a set of questions of his own: why and where is Chen taking him, is it a good thing, what can come of it and what, if anything, should he do?
Before he reaches a conclusion Chen looks up at him, smiles a little, and speaks, "We're leaving. We're going outside."
The big picture seems to have become clear to the boy who turns his eyes to the flowers sleeping in the small pot. They are beautiful, well tended to; whoever takes care of them pours their love into the task. It is strange and a little out of place in a place like this, much like the young doctor's care for the boy has been. Sehun cannot say for sure whether Chen's intentions are good or whether he pursues his own benefit, but looking at the young man he feels there is certainly more to how he is making sure the boy leaves this place unharmed. He thinks about the obvious differences between these two: Chen is well informed, determined, he is certainly capable of emotion judging by his expressive eyes and the smile that visits his face at times, and yet he has killed tonight, not showing guilt or regret whatsoever. It is an odd comparison. The boy silently looking at the flowers, trying to figure his place in this equation is like day compared to the other who has moved so quietly through the shadows unnoticed.
"Outside", speaks the boy softly like mumbling to himself rather than speaking to the other. "What is it like?"
"There is someone waiting for us", Chen retorts, bending down as he shuffles through the contents of a drawer. "We are moving to a new place."
"What is it like outside?" It seems he has forgotten about Chen's promise to give him a name; the outside world seems fascinating to him. Sehun feels his pulse through the cool hand clinging onto his. Has Chen noticed this? The other still pays no mind to his presence here.
"There's sun, and plants, and cities", Chen hums and finally picks out a bunch of keys with colourful plastic tags attached to each to label them. "And people."
The boy slowly nods. His thoughts are impossible to read. Slowly he lifts his hand to touch the flower, fingertips stroking the green leaves and pink little flowers. Watching the boy in silence Sehun finds a smile curling his lips, one much like those he's seen when the teen has watched the video. It is tiny, involuntary, natural, genuine and real. And as soon as it's arrived it is gone, and he turns to Chen, looking at the other turning the keys and reading the writing on their labels. He waits patiently until Chen has found what he is looking for.
Along with the keys the other young man picks up a small pile of papers, some on clipboards, some in plastic files. Sehun cannot see their contents, but by the way the other holds them tight to make sure not one gets lost indicates they must be important; perhaps they have to do with the two of them. Coming round the counter the other takes the teen's free hand and pulls him on the move. The corridors are much less of a maze from here on. It is a short way out, but in the darkness it feels like an eternity. Chen seems just as confident about the way as he has, earlier, and the boy does not question his lead.
At last Chen stops to fiddle with the keys. He turns one in the lock, pushes open the heavy, tall door, and cool morning air hits them as they step out.