fic: Solace of Survivors
Title: Solace of Survivors
Length: one-shot
Author: M_K Yujji
Rating: G
Genre: mild slash, AU, movie-fusion/xover
Pairing: Doojoon/Yoseob
Warning: RPS
Disclaimer: Though real people are used as characters, this fic bears no resemblance to their actual Real Lives and these people are not owned by me.
Notes: This was written for prkjae for her donation to the Help the South charity auction. It took longer than expected and I apologize. Hopefully you enjoy it!
Though you don't have to have any familiarity with the movie I Am Number Four to read this, it will make things make a vast bit more sense if you've seen it. And besides, it's a good movie! Go watch it! There is a possibility that I may write into the larger universe that this bit comes from, but not until I've got other things off my plate.
Summary: The responsibility is heavy, but Doojoon doesn't have to shoulder it alone.
~*~*~
The night is pitch black, but the veil of darkness does little to hide anything from the eyes that search through it, ever watchful, ever diligent. Enemies who thought it did would be in for a nasty surprise.
“Hey.”
The soft voice distracts the watcher, but only partially. The gentle hands that follow it, tracing their way up to his shoulders… they’re a more effective distraction. He finally turns under their insistence, giving the smaller man his full attention. They don’t need the faint glow from the house to see each other, but Doojoon likes the way it emphasizes Yoseob’s paler skin. “Hey.”
“I don’t think any Mog are going to attack tonight, Doojoonie. And even if they did, I’m pretty sure the kiddies can handle it.”
Doojoon’s lips twitch against his will. It always amuses him whenever Yoseob refers to the others as the ‘kiddies’. He’s not that much older himself, and easily looks like the youngest of their entire group. He also has the deadliest legacies and a ferociousness in battle that frightens them all, whether they’re willing to admit it or not.
He’s been on his own the longest and it’s hardened him in ways that make Doojoon ache for him. He doesn’t say that, though. Yoseob would hit him if he saw even the faintest hint of sympathy or pity or anything else and he never pulls his punches, not even against a friend.
“I suppose….” He looks back out into the darkness for a moment, though. They’re not complete. Not as strong as they need to be. Only once they’ve found the rest of their kind, the last handful of survivors of their home world…
A shiver slides through him that has little to do with the cold or even Yoseob’s presence warm against his back. The Mog have set their sights on the human world as they’d once set their sights on Doojoon’s home world of Lorien.
His mind tries to shy away from the thought, but he forces it back. Ignoring the past won’t lessen it’s effect on his future.
Logically he knows that the fall of his planet hadn’t been his fault. Hadn’t been their fault. They’d been too young when the Mog had arrived, their legacies undeveloped and useless. The guardian warriors who’d fled the dying planet with them had always stressed that.
Doojoon knows he isn’t the only one that sometimes feels like it was their fault, though.
If only they’d been older. If only they’d been given the chance to fight for their world.
If only…. They are the cruelest words Doojoon has ever heard and he tries not to indulge in them.
“Hey, no dark thoughts tonight,” Yoseob whispers, nuzzling the back of his neck and wrapping warm arms around him. “Tomorrow we’ll go in and get this guy and that’ll be soon enough to worry and depress ourselves. Any Mog stupid enough to attack tonight will get exactly what they deserve.”
Yoseob has a marked talent for knowing when things are weighing on Doojoon. The de facto leader of their little group would have suspected it was a legacy, except that he’s pretty sure that he’s just that easy to read.
“I don’t want to lose anyone else,” Doojoon finally says. The first of their number and his guardian had died only a few short years after they’d arrived on Earth. The matching scars that the death had left on all of them are old and faded now. A second scar had joined the first only months before. It’s still red and sensitive, a raw reminder that they are hunted and that when they’re apart, they aren’t as strong as they should be.
Only eighteen Loriens had escaped their planet. Nine chosen and nine guardians. Doojoon and Yoseob had both lost their guardians before they’d found each other. Gikwang’s had died in the Mog encounter when they’d found Hyuna and Gina.
That’s seven of those survivors, dead.
There are still two more chosen to find and they have no way of knowing if their guardians are dead or alive.
Doojoon had promised his own guardian that he’d do everything in his power to protect the ones he could. When that second scar had burned its way into his skin, marking the death of a chosen and his guardian….
The taste of failure had been like ash on his tongue.
He’d promised.
He takes every loss, every failure, that much harder.
“I know.” Yoseob’s voice is still soft, full of understanding and empathy. Yoseob doesn’t want to lose anyone else either. “We won’t lose him.”
Doojoon manages a smile, faint but real. There is nothing but confidence and assurance in Yoseob’s voice. When Yoseob says things like that, it’s easy to believe him. It’s times like this when Doojoon isn’t sure why he wasn’t chosen to be leader instead.
He lets that confidence settle into himself and takes a deep breath. It will be fine. Nothing else is acceptable.
“I love you,” Doojoon says, leaning in to steal a kiss. He can feel Yoseob’s smile against his lips. The love he feels for the smaller man wells up inside him, like a warm tide of pure emotion and his heart swells a little more knowing it’s returned in full measure. He’s always been glad that he’d fallen for a fellow Lorien, someone who can understand and accept the way his kind love.
Once and always.
The smaller man begins tugging him backwards, away from the place he’s been keeping such diligent watch over. “I love you, too, idiot. Now come to bed. I have better things for us to be doing besides staring at nothing waiting for Mog to jump out at us.”
The old house is surrounded by the best early warning and detection gadgets humans have ever come up with, set in a perimeter that would give them more than enough time to react. Far better equipment than Doojoon’s eyes and ears and nose.
“Okay.” Because denying Yoseob is hard enough even when Doojoon knows it’s necessary. When it’s not? He’s not that big of an idiot, no matter what Yoseob says.
He follows his love easily, hands entwined, hearts forever entangled.
Tomorrow will be soon enough to start worrying about finding another of the chosen.
Tonight he’ll simply rejoice for what he’s already found.
~*~*~
fin
Length: one-shot
Author: M_K Yujji
Rating: G
Genre: mild slash, AU, movie-fusion/xover
Pairing: Doojoon/Yoseob
Warning: RPS
Disclaimer: Though real people are used as characters, this fic bears no resemblance to their actual Real Lives and these people are not owned by me.
Notes: This was written for prkjae for her donation to the Help the South charity auction. It took longer than expected and I apologize. Hopefully you enjoy it!
Though you don't have to have any familiarity with the movie I Am Number Four to read this, it will make things make a vast bit more sense if you've seen it. And besides, it's a good movie! Go watch it! There is a possibility that I may write into the larger universe that this bit comes from, but not until I've got other things off my plate.
Summary: The responsibility is heavy, but Doojoon doesn't have to shoulder it alone.
~*~*~
The night is pitch black, but the veil of darkness does little to hide anything from the eyes that search through it, ever watchful, ever diligent. Enemies who thought it did would be in for a nasty surprise.
“Hey.”
The soft voice distracts the watcher, but only partially. The gentle hands that follow it, tracing their way up to his shoulders… they’re a more effective distraction. He finally turns under their insistence, giving the smaller man his full attention. They don’t need the faint glow from the house to see each other, but Doojoon likes the way it emphasizes Yoseob’s paler skin. “Hey.”
“I don’t think any Mog are going to attack tonight, Doojoonie. And even if they did, I’m pretty sure the kiddies can handle it.”
Doojoon’s lips twitch against his will. It always amuses him whenever Yoseob refers to the others as the ‘kiddies’. He’s not that much older himself, and easily looks like the youngest of their entire group. He also has the deadliest legacies and a ferociousness in battle that frightens them all, whether they’re willing to admit it or not.
He’s been on his own the longest and it’s hardened him in ways that make Doojoon ache for him. He doesn’t say that, though. Yoseob would hit him if he saw even the faintest hint of sympathy or pity or anything else and he never pulls his punches, not even against a friend.
“I suppose….” He looks back out into the darkness for a moment, though. They’re not complete. Not as strong as they need to be. Only once they’ve found the rest of their kind, the last handful of survivors of their home world…
A shiver slides through him that has little to do with the cold or even Yoseob’s presence warm against his back. The Mog have set their sights on the human world as they’d once set their sights on Doojoon’s home world of Lorien.
His mind tries to shy away from the thought, but he forces it back. Ignoring the past won’t lessen it’s effect on his future.
Logically he knows that the fall of his planet hadn’t been his fault. Hadn’t been their fault. They’d been too young when the Mog had arrived, their legacies undeveloped and useless. The guardian warriors who’d fled the dying planet with them had always stressed that.
Doojoon knows he isn’t the only one that sometimes feels like it was their fault, though.
If only they’d been older. If only they’d been given the chance to fight for their world.
If only…. They are the cruelest words Doojoon has ever heard and he tries not to indulge in them.
“Hey, no dark thoughts tonight,” Yoseob whispers, nuzzling the back of his neck and wrapping warm arms around him. “Tomorrow we’ll go in and get this guy and that’ll be soon enough to worry and depress ourselves. Any Mog stupid enough to attack tonight will get exactly what they deserve.”
Yoseob has a marked talent for knowing when things are weighing on Doojoon. The de facto leader of their little group would have suspected it was a legacy, except that he’s pretty sure that he’s just that easy to read.
“I don’t want to lose anyone else,” Doojoon finally says. The first of their number and his guardian had died only a few short years after they’d arrived on Earth. The matching scars that the death had left on all of them are old and faded now. A second scar had joined the first only months before. It’s still red and sensitive, a raw reminder that they are hunted and that when they’re apart, they aren’t as strong as they should be.
Only eighteen Loriens had escaped their planet. Nine chosen and nine guardians. Doojoon and Yoseob had both lost their guardians before they’d found each other. Gikwang’s had died in the Mog encounter when they’d found Hyuna and Gina.
That’s seven of those survivors, dead.
There are still two more chosen to find and they have no way of knowing if their guardians are dead or alive.
Doojoon had promised his own guardian that he’d do everything in his power to protect the ones he could. When that second scar had burned its way into his skin, marking the death of a chosen and his guardian….
The taste of failure had been like ash on his tongue.
He’d promised.
He takes every loss, every failure, that much harder.
“I know.” Yoseob’s voice is still soft, full of understanding and empathy. Yoseob doesn’t want to lose anyone else either. “We won’t lose him.”
Doojoon manages a smile, faint but real. There is nothing but confidence and assurance in Yoseob’s voice. When Yoseob says things like that, it’s easy to believe him. It’s times like this when Doojoon isn’t sure why he wasn’t chosen to be leader instead.
He lets that confidence settle into himself and takes a deep breath. It will be fine. Nothing else is acceptable.
“I love you,” Doojoon says, leaning in to steal a kiss. He can feel Yoseob’s smile against his lips. The love he feels for the smaller man wells up inside him, like a warm tide of pure emotion and his heart swells a little more knowing it’s returned in full measure. He’s always been glad that he’d fallen for a fellow Lorien, someone who can understand and accept the way his kind love.
Once and always.
The smaller man begins tugging him backwards, away from the place he’s been keeping such diligent watch over. “I love you, too, idiot. Now come to bed. I have better things for us to be doing besides staring at nothing waiting for Mog to jump out at us.”
The old house is surrounded by the best early warning and detection gadgets humans have ever come up with, set in a perimeter that would give them more than enough time to react. Far better equipment than Doojoon’s eyes and ears and nose.
“Okay.” Because denying Yoseob is hard enough even when Doojoon knows it’s necessary. When it’s not? He’s not that big of an idiot, no matter what Yoseob says.
He follows his love easily, hands entwined, hearts forever entangled.
Tomorrow will be soon enough to start worrying about finding another of the chosen.
Tonight he’ll simply rejoice for what he’s already found.
~*~*~
fin