oh, you pretty things; i
jongyu, dystopia au, sadfic, character death yo, nc-17 because language and a little smutteu in the middle and that's it.
unbeta'd except for the first few paragraphs, which I had THE GR9 swiftlocks AND MY LOVELY THYPIE read over.
( THIS IS AN EARLY BIRTHDAY PRESENT TO MY DEAREST AND MOST SASSY COOL CLEVER AWESOME volti_subito WHOSE FICS YOU SHOULD ALSO CHECK OUT BECAUSE BAMF AND AWESOME I'm actually embarrassed posting this because wow she's so cool ):
6,163 w
All the strangers came today
And it looks as though they're here to stay.
Times were hard. They had to scrummage for food in the food depots, even though everyone knew the depots were useless. You could go there, before the trucks came with ration packets, at 3.48 a.m., with dust and gunk in your eyes and sweat sticking your shirt to your back in itchy folds, and wait, and you'd still never get a full ration packet. Jonghyun remembered the first time he'd gotten a full one - he was twelve, he'd been in line for four hours, and the bangs over his face were red from some spray paint can he'd found in an abandoned basement. It was probably one of the best days in his life. It was six years ago, and he'd never gotten a full packet again.
The reason for this wasn't as shrouded in mystery as a stranger to the situation might think it to be. It was simple: the rich had a lot of money (that is, primarily, the reason they were - and are - labelled as 'rich'), and do whatever they want with it to get anything they want. In this particular case, the vast 'anything' is replaced by a particular subcategory, 'food', adjacent to an adjectival phrase 'a lot of', which results in the want of 'a lot of food'. This they paid scandalous amounts for, without care of (although, in some odd cases, with the particular intention of cutting off means for) others. Anyone without wealth automatically had to resign to a lack of food also.
The government's eternal clamouring advertisements of free education were mostly ignored. Survival mattered, not civilisation. The quickest means of getting food was stealing, in itself a laborious task. Nobody in their region of the city - nobody had anything. You had to scale walls festered with ivy and barbed wire to get into the suburbs, where there was anything worth stealing. A successful day might get two bagels and a half-empty glass of milk ("Half-full," Jinki insisted). The milk always went to the youngest in the family. Jonghyun never really got the point, but it seemed some sort of unspoken law amongst everybody, and Jinki had a lot of long-winded passages about morality and calcium and the betterment of the majority or something to back it up, so he didn't really mind.
Times were hard, and there was next to no hope of things getting better.
The boy in front of him turned to his left and walked away, head down. It was Jonghyun's turn. The machine whirred and bent down over a great heap of shining black plastic, plucked something and placed it in front of him. It looked suspiciously devoid of substance. But it could be water. Sometimes the packets just had water. He stared hard at it for a few seconds, then shrugged and grabbed it, walking away in his own turn.
The day was grey, like everything else in the city. The sky was bleak, hopeless, the buildings tall and dead. The wind blew over his ears and into his hair. His bangs were blond and brown. Bleach wasn't that hard to come by.
The gravel caught in his toes. He frowned as he pushed past warmth and flesh, the surging walls of people. They were all waiting, scrambling, yelling for food. Everyone knew the depots were useless, but they had no other option. He stuffed the packet in his pocket, away from grimy, grabbing hands. It made a reassuring bulge on his waist, and fingered the shape of it as he made his way home.
Home was a mile away. He usually took around three quarters of an hour, tops. (It was something most people were surprised by - his being short, and fast anyway.) Something was very bad about the day, though. Hopelessness and grey and dirt and heat - he knew them, and knew them well. But there was a smell in the air, a tint to it that he couldn't understand. Not dangerous, but potentially... potentially something. Unknown. He was wary.
He cleared the crowds in fifteen minutes, and looked up at the heavy, red sun. It looked fat, as if it was feeding off the hunger of everyone in all the half-starved places. Probably around ten million. Then he noticed something strange about it that he couldn't recall seeing before - the egg-yolk in the sky was frying - something he'd only seen twice before in his life, in a pan, and never before in the sky. The thing was wavering around its rusty edges, its circumference shrinking and growing infinitesimally. As he squinted at it, brows knit together, he felt something like cold water water drip onto his forehead, and batted at the sudden invasion quickly. The only moisture he saw, as he lowered his hand to his eyes, was sweat. But there was always sweat! And it never appeared suddenly. It squeezed out the skin in tiny beads that grew larger and larger until they trickled down.
Strange. He shrugged it off, still frowning.
Nothing else happened by the time he reached. The good window was shut and the broken one faced an impossibly tiny cranny, so he couldn't tell whether or not anyone was home. 'Welcome' said the semicircular mat outside the bent door. 'Dust off your Godforsaken dirty feet over here before entering, you little twit,' it meant. Jonghyun smiled and jumped lightly over it.
Only Jinki seemed to be at home, and he had that metal thing turned on, as usual. He was looking worried. "What's that again?" Jonghyun nodded casually towards it, making for the sink to wash his hands. "Oh, and morning," he added, as Jinki only nodded absently and leaned closer to it, fiddling with a knob. A shrill, whirring sound came from it. "TURN IT OFF!" he yelled, and Jinki looked at him with surprise, as if only then realizing that he'd arrived. His fingers snapped the knob the other way quickly, and it came out in his hand. He hissed, but waved at Jonghyun. "Good morning," he smiled quietly, as he struggled to put it back in. "Got food?"
"Mm. Don't think so. Maybe just water." A few drops hustled quickly out the tap, and he wiped them up to his wrists. Jinki nodded again, sitting back on his haunches and looking at him properly. "It's good. We need clean water."
"Clean," Jonghyun repeated, thickly. He didn't really care about clean. He'd rather it was simply there, and drinkable, and didn't make any of them sick. The only things he liked clean, if he was honest with himself, were hands, and hair. Not to eat, but to look at. Touch and feel with. Jinki's hair were soft, and dark, mousy brown. He'd never spray painted his hair - although he spray painted everyone else's. Kids around the area would save up on little tidbits or metal scraps to come get their hair sprayed. Taemin wanted his own done, but they'd told him to wait a year. Then he'd gone off in a sulk.
"Well, let's see the packet, then," Jinki said, breaking into his thoughts. Jonghyun wrinkled his nose in distaste. He hated 'seeing it'. It filled his appetite better just to rest his eyes on those black polythene bags and imagine what was in them. Their actual contents never failed to dismay. He brought the packet out anyhow, and sniffed. There the smell was again, only much fainter. Perhaps it was just the packet, after all.
Open here, the white letters said (they'd all learned to read), as usual, and so he opened there. The zip lock popped apart, and the two boys peered inside. Then they sat back.
Jonghyun's face was nonplussed, but Jinki was clearly affected. His muscles couldn't settle on an expression. Finally he let out a breath and said, "What."
"Told you they'd sink that low."
Hinges shrieked and Minho slouched in. "Got an empty packet."
Jinki stood up in astonishment, Jonghyun dragged him back down.
"Same," he replied, and Minho just shrugged and lay down on his mat.
"What are we going to do?" Jinki stared at the floor, blankly. "This hasn't happened. Ever."
"We haven't gotten packets before," Kibum piped up from his corner. Jonghyun started. He hadn't seen him when he'd come in. Kibum peeked out from under a pile of sheets, in a fever for the past two days. His face was flushed and his eyes too bright. "That's basically the same thing. Right?" he argued, then sneezed.
Jonghyun looked at Jinki, but he'd retreated to the cabinets, avoiding everything.
"They've stopped trying to provide us with anything, that's the point," Jonghyun supplied, and Jinki just shook his head, disbelieving.
"Hyung," Minho mumbled, eyes closed. "It's happened. There's nothing we can do about it. But it's going to be okay. Something else will come along. That's the way it's always been."
Jinki didn't seem to take notice. When he guessed everyone else to be asleep, he squeezed out through the broken window. Jonghyun was trying hard, but it had always taken him longer to drop off. He watched him through half-closed lids and sighed when Jinki left, facing the ceiling.
The dude was going to go and do something stupid, he could feel it in his bones. There was no doubt about it. The question was: should he go after him, or shouldn't he? He turned around to look at Kibum. Pale brown lashes curled onto soft, babyish cheeks. The kid gave a snore, and his forehead creased. Jonghyun reached out and smoothed the wrinkles, then shook his head and got up. Within a minute, he'd left, too.
As it turned out, Jinki didn't actually do anything dumb - he'd just went to the depot to wait. Jonghyun could make out his bright red T-shirt from a distance. Shoving his way past a bunch of rowdy fifteen year olds, he joined him,
"Thought I'd try my luck," Jinki whispered, oddly audible through the din.
"How do you always know when one of us is around?" Jonghyun whispered back, grinning. "You didn't even look at me."
Jinki reached up and tapped his nose meaningfully, then gave an exaggerated sniff. "The stink."
Jonghyun shook his head, chidingly. "Your luck is as good as it can get, hyung. Don't push it."
Jinki just made a face.
It took them two further hours to get near the front of the line. Jonghyun somehow managed to catch snoozes standing up, on Jinki's shoulder (which, by then, was generously wet with drool).
"Here goes," Jinki whispered, patting Jonghyun's hand and stepping forward. Jonghyun stumbled, half asleep.
"Huh?" Then he straightened up at once. That smell. It wasn't really unpleasant, but still. Then Jinki grabbed his hand and made a dash for it, back through the crowds.
"Trying to beat me?" Jonghyun yelled, over everyone else's noise.
"Trying? Really? This isn't even close," Jinki shouted back to him, and suddenly the strange smell made him feel exhilarated, not wary. He gave a short laugh, and the wind went up against his face, cold, spiking through his eyes and rushing into his ears. He felt nothing but his feet, pounding against the open road.
"Wait up!" he hared Jinki say, faintly, so he slowed down.
They reached the 'welcome' mat at the same time, panting. "That was great," Jonghyun thunked his head back against the door frame, breathing heavily.
"Got something better," Jinki wheezed, bending down and leaning on his knees.
"Milk?" a boy stuck his head out the window, but Jonghyun pushed his little face away.
"No, really," Taemin greeted them as he opened the door. "Is there any milk?" He batted his lashes for extra effect.
"You're fourteen," Jonghyun told him seriously. "You ought to learn your place." Heedless, Jinki ruffled his hair as they walked in. Jonghyun's eyebrows sank an impressive distance. "Why do I bother."
Kibum rasped senselessly from under the window, then cleared his throat and tried again. "Hey, you two."
Jinki delved into his jeans' pocket and waved a packet in reply.
"This has got stuff, guys. Promise."
"Gimme," Jonghyun made a grab for it, but Minho got it first. He had it open in a second, then hesitated.
"Well, go on," Taemin prompted, so Minho tentatively lowered a finger inside. Then he stopped and took a deep breath. Jinki, despite his confident promise, eyed him fearfully. Kibum just smiled, tired.
"There is indeed stuff," Minho proclaimed, importantly, and Taemin let out a whoop.
Since it was Jonghyun's turn to take out the contents of the packet that day, everyone else joined Kibum and sat in relative silence. Except for Jinki. "Now, don't think there's milk in there, okay, because there mightn't be any. There's probably no chocolate, because we haven't had it since last year. Plus, we'll need to give a lot to Kibum, because he's sick. Okay?"
Taemin sulked, silent.
"You don't have to," Kibum commented, and that, as everyone could correctly predict, settled it.
"Who said I was going to say no?" Taemin fired back at once, sitting up straight. "Of course I will!"
Jinki quietly patted his back, and Taemin tried not to let a pleased look steal over his irritated expression. They waited some more, listening to Jonghyun as he hummed and put everything in plates.
Taemin let out another whoop when he saw his share. "Full packet," Jonghyun whispered to Jinki, as they nibbled on their biscuits (2 pieces each), and Jinki beamed. "Look where pushing my luck got me."
By the time dinner was over, though, he was looking slightly upset again. Again he left through the window when everyone had dozed off, and, after a while, again Jonghyun followed him. Jinki was sitting on the welcome mat, hugging his knees.
"What's up?"
"There's a smell, did you notice? And today was hot, then suddenly cold."
Jonghyun nodded, but shrugged. "Could say the same about Taemin. His showers are shorter and scarcer than mine, and then he goes all hormonal and - and mood swung."
Jinki gave a little laugh, carefully low. It carried on the wind and echoed softly. Jonghyun closed his eyes and leaned his head on Jinki's shoulder.
"Hey, Jinki?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think I'll grow taller than you?"
"I... honestly? Don't think so."
Jonghyun rubbed his head sleepily against the familiar arm. "Good."
Jinki gave another small laugh. "I thought you want to be tall."
"No," he mumbled, shivering slightly in the breeze. "Much better like this. Comfortable, when I'm smaller."
Jinki didn't say anything, but he covered Jonghyun's hand with his, leaning his cheek on the other's head.
They stayed liked that, in hazy, dim silence for a while. It really was comfortable. Jonghyun was about to battle against the weight of his sleep-heavy tongue and reiterate the fact, when a sudden plop of cold landed on his forehead. He gave a yelp and sprang to his feet. Except for Jinki, blearily opening his eyes, nobody else was around. Another plop plopped on his right eyebrow, then on his head, two on his shoulders, in quick succession. Before he knew what was happening, he was half-soaked, and there was a soft roar in his ears, water rushing down to him in truckloads.
"The hell?" he shouted, and hurried back inside through the door. Jinki stood up, slowly, a wondering smile on his face.
"Jinki, get out of there!" He made a grab for his arm, but Jinki stepped away into those curtains - for curtains is what the water had become - at that very moment. Then something terrible rolled all around him - a giant sound, some kind of tremor. Minho sat up straight with a grunt. Kibum peered through his coverings.
"What's going on?" Minho yawned.
White light screamed in the sky - at least, that's what Jonghyun thought. It didn't make any sound, but it looked angry, with the sudden spikes that flashed everywhere. "Jinki," he called, desperate. His voice was drowned by the noise.
But Jinki turned around. His shirt clung desperately to his skin, his hair glued to his face. He spread his arms and grinned, said something that Jonghyun couldn't make out.
Taemin stirred. "What's up?"
Kibum shushed him quickly and pulled himself up by the windowsill to look out. His eyes narrowed first, then widened. "What is it?" Taemin hissed, and jumped up himself. Kibum barred the way to the window, so he shot out the door. Jonghyun made a futile grab at him.
The sonorous noise came again, the clumsiness of the sound making him think of great rolls of carpet tumbling about over the sky in a ruckus.
Taemin bolted back inside, wet and shivering. Minho frowned, his drowsy mind slow on the uptake. "What made you think slipping into the water reservoirs was a good idea? Now we don't have any clean water at all, and you probably sick besides."
Kibum clicked his tongue impatiently, but didn't bother to correct him. Taemin just stood in the middle of the room and sniffled. Minho shrugged, stretched and mumbled something about changing shirts. Taemin shook his head, and Minho went back to sleep. Jonghyun glared at his feet for a few seconds, then took a deep breath and stepped out.
At once he was peppered with a thousand kisses from the sky, little water droplets pattering on his arms and landing in his hair. They snuck onto his nape and under his shirt, bounced on his nose and splashed around his ankles. And above all, he felt cold. His muscles spasmed, unaccustomed. Still terrified, he slowly lifted his face up, vulnerable to whatever decided to attack him. The water kept pouring, seeping past his lips, wetting his brows, flitting over his cheeks. Nothing else happened. There was no more noise, no more white spikes in the sky. It was almost calming. His jaw gradually unclenched, his hands relaxed and hung loosely by his sides. He still did not trust it fully, but so far it hadn't done him much harm.
"Hey," something whispered in his ear, and he shrieked and fled back inside.
Kibum fell down laughing, and Jinki smiled at him sheepishly.
"For God's sake," Jonghyun waved his fist threateningly, then dropped with a sigh. "What is that?"
"Water, I think," Kibum said, holding out his . He'd stuck it out the window, and now it was wet, droplets streaming down and pooling on the floor.
"Cold," Taemin added, pulling on a new shirt.
"Precipitation," Jinki pronounced, carefully. They stared at him. He stared back, puzzled. "What?"
"Every now and then you come up with a new word you've from school that we've never heard of, and then you teach it to us and it takes a very long time for us to get it."
Everyone now stared at Minho, who opened his gunky eyes with a defeated expression. Kibum began a slow clap which nobody else joined in on because they were still digesting what Minho had said.
"Well..." Jinki started, uncertainly. "People also call it 'rain' for short, and it wasn't harmful, most of the time. It's just water from clouds."
Jonghyun felt relieved. "But the noise, and the lights?" Taemin prompted.
So Jinki had to go on and tell them about thunder and lightning, and static electricity. Most of it flew over their heads, but Taemin seemed terribly interested anyway. The sky outside changed from light grey to dark grey to purple.
Gradually, the others fell asleep, and still the rain fell in a friendly whisper. Jinki stared up at the ceiling, then at the boys, lying all around him. He smiled, and curled up. He was dreaming of kites and lightning within minutes.
___
Jonghyun woke because of the scream. He jumped up, slipped and fell back with a splash. His head hit the ground, and water smoothed over his face, going into his nose and stinging his brain. He grabbed at the door frame and pulled his head up.
Outside, the rain was no longer soft and welcoming. It spoke with a continuous harshness that had none of the comforting tones of the day before.
A hand beat wildly against his knee. Taemin was suffocating. He pulled him up at once, and the boy clung to him, spluttering and choking. They waded to the other side of the room, where Kibum was sitting up, shaking. "Hey, man," Jonghyun took his hand. "Come on."
Kibum stared at him for a while, as if he was looking at the wall behind him. Then he cleared his throat. "Yeah," he nodded, swallowing. "Yeah, okay." He squeezed Jonghyun's hand, fingers cold, as if asking for reassurance.
"Come on," Jonghyun said again, squeezing back, and Kibum attempted to smile.
They got up, and walked out into the rain. It beat down on them, making Taemin shrink miserably against the wall. Jonghyun couldn't blame him. He was surprised, though, by Kibum. Wrapped in sheets and a mat, looking little more than a bedraggled bundle of cloth, he stepped into the middle of the street and sat down, arms spread out before him, face turned up to the sky.
"What's going on," Taemin mumbled. His tone wasn't questioning; he was merely commenting on the stupendous circumstances in a vague way. "Everything's crazy," Jonghyun shrugged, gripping his spindly arms and holding him close.
"Everything's always crazy," Taemin nuzzled into his side, eyes screwed shut. Jonghyun didn't have an answer. Then again, it wasn't like Taemin needed one.
He hummed to himself a little, not caring if he sounded toneless or off key - the rain tattooed itself onto his shoulders and into his hearing, and he could barely perceive anything else. Taemin didn't speak anymore, and Kibum slowly took off his shell in layers, folding each sheet neatly, soaking wet. Then he stumbled quietly about, walking in circles. Their neighbours, Jonghyun figured, were probably at the depots, or locked up inside their homes.
Eventually, two brown figures huddled onto the far end of the road. Taemin stirred, and ran to meet them, the water splashing up to his knees. Jinki reached them first. He rubbed Kibum's back and waded over to Jonghyun. He looked calmer, Jonghyun realized, than he had in years. Probably in twelve years, the day he'd met him. The best day of his life.
He watched Jinki ruffle Taemin's hair and say something, and smiled.
"Yo," Jinki snapped his fingers. "Can't have you zoning out, man, you're my rock here."
"You're not the only one with a rock," was his annoyed rejoinder. "I have a rock, too." Then he realized it sounded nice, and quickly added, "I should throw it at you, for not being there when we nearly died today."
"You what." That wasn't a question. It was shock.
"The water's really high, I'm sure you can see," he explained, wearily. "Taemin almost suffocated. Been waiting out for you two to come back so we could find another place." He glanced at the clock tower in the distance. "About an hour. Kibum's just sat around or walked around in this rain thing. Dunno if that's good for him or not."
Jinki looked haggard, now. Jonghyun almost regretted telling him anything. Still, he defended him silently, he'd have to learn of it sooner or later.
"It's good for Bum," Jinki ran a hand through his hair, voice cracking with strain. "Minho and I actually left early to look for a new place, you know? I'd figured it'd rise, but I didn't know it would... happen so fast." He blinked and looked out at Kibum, who was angrily saying something to a sheepish Minho. Taemin was on his backing, splashing the water with his hands.
"Well, then," Jonghyun said, softening, "You've got a place, and we're all okay. That's good, right?"
Jinki nodded, waded inside without a word. Jonghyun sighed and followed him.
Their mats were floating a few inches off the ground. Jinki's bag was safe, up on the shelf over the sink. Their shoes were soggy. The bag where they kept their clothes was, thankfully, waterproof. It bobbed morosely in a corner. Jonghyun realized only now the importance of its covering.
"Not much to pack, huh?" he said, and Jinki nodded again, grabbing the clothes bag first. He reached for his own, but Jonghyun sloshed forward and got it first. "Okay then," he said, ignoring the look of surprise on the other's face, "To this new place we head."
Jinki opened his mouth, then closed it. "Well, I mean... yeah, I guess?"
Jonghyun nudged him, and he turned around and lead the way out. The other three were waiting by the door. Minho had probably filled them in.
They fell in line on the road, Minho leading, Kibum and Taemin behind him, Jonghyun making sure Kibum didn't fall, and Jinki at the rear. "You don't have to be all that far back," Jonghyun said to him, but Jinki mumbled something about intruders from behind and having a lot to think about.
"We're moving pretty far," Jonghyun noted, looking over his shoulder.
Jinki chewed his lip, looking preoccupied. "Hmm."
"Reminds me of something," he added.
Jinki looked up, smiling shyly. "Does it?"
Jonghyun slowed down to walk in step with him. "Sure. Something about a bunch of babies playing at men."
Jinki grinned, and the stretch of his mouth was slightly lopsided, the way it was when he felt nostalgic. "Taemin was the only actual baby, then."
"You were seven."
They both chuckled.
"Have we changed, though? At all?" Jinki asked, squinting up at the sky. It answered with petting drops that made him squeeze his eyes shut and yelp.
"Well," Jonghyun pretended to think hard, "Maybe you've gotten better at banging."
Jinki scoffed. "There was no scope for improvement, please. I was born perfect in that area of life." They both laughed again. Up ahead, Kibum sighed and rested his head on Minho's shoulder as he rode on his back. Taemin rolled his eyes, left alone in the middle with the mountain of Kibum's coverings.
"But I mean," Jinki sighed, "Aren't we still just playing at men?"
Jonghyun stayed silent, and they bumped shoulders.
___
It was what Jonghyun had guessed - they had returned to their oldest home.
Way back when, there had been hundreds of children in the high-rise apartment buildings, five to a dilapidated room The babies that turned up on doorsteps were gathered onto the roofs, for fresh air and sunlight. The whole district used to echo endlessly with their wails. Now, as they traipsed through little streams that were streets, there was no one. Not a single shirt hung outside the windows, and all the graffiti was faded. Wistfully the five looked all around, remembering times spent and emotions felt.
"Remember?" they whispered to one another, and Taemin played hopscotch by himself on the pavement. Kibum slid off Minho's back and ran towards him to join in. "Wait, where is it?" he frowned.
"It used to be there," Taemin mumbled. "I remember." He went back to the others.
Kibum bit his lip, then sighed.
"Is it just me, or have our hands been colliding frequently in the past few minutes?" Jonghyun whispered, and shook his head as Jinki's hand finally grabbed his, none too gently.
"What's there to shake heads about?" Jinki retorted, staunchly, and almost tripped over the oncoming steps.
"Your general idiocy," Jonghyun shook his head a second time.
"I'll leave your hand if you do that again," Jinki told him, seriously.
"You won't," Jonghyun shook his head. Jinki didn't. (He did, however, manage to sneak in a miscalculated peck on the rim of his ear.)
They bumped into Taemin, who bumped into Kibum, who squawked into Minho, who stumbled on the steps of the building, and slipped. They all swept down with him, and landed in a bruised heap on the road.
"Remember when something like this happened to us around New Year's?" Kibum was the first to detach himself and (uselessly) pat himself down. "Ugh, I'm filthy and wet."
"Wow, tell me more," someone muttered, but nobody could figure out who.
"I missed the fireworks up on the rich end, then," Taemin complained.
"Yes, we all did," Minho reminded him, dragging him onto his feet.
"And the government's building-scaling law was rendered obsolete," Jonghyun joined in, proudly, as if he had brought that revolution about. "I scaled ours in, what, four hours?" He flapped his arms around, to feel warm. Jinki hugged him from behind. "Nope, six."
"Let's leave them to their procreation!" Kibum yelled, and the other three raced up the stairs and went inside.
"You're embarrassing," Jonghyun sighed, patting the chubby fingers at his waist contentedly.
"That sounded like a compliment."
"Perhaps it was."
They rocked around, from side to side, the water up to their knees. "What floor are we staying on this time?"
"Fifth. All the other rooms are inhabitable."
Jonghyun slipped slightly. "Wait, wait. You mean uninhabitable."
Jinki stopped moving, and stayed still for a few seconds as Jonghyun regained his balance. "Oh, right. Yeah."
Jonghyun hitched his bag further up his waist, so it wouldn't get wet. "Think we should get going, then."
Jinki made a face into his hair.
"No, really."
Reluctantly, hands slid off Jonghyun's waist and they made their way up, silently.
Jonghyun tilted his head, remembering, remembering...
He hid underneath the nearest table, tucking his legs underneath him. Footsteps padded quickly by, then retraced themselves and paused by the table. He held his breath; a big toe reached out and nudged his thigh. He let out a sigh of relief. All the grown-ups wore shoes. Besides, the big toe wasn't really big. It was probably as big as his own.
Then the toe withdrew, two feet came into view, then two shins and knees, two palms, and finally a very friendly, small head. The eyes were as small as the grin was wide - and the grin was really wide. Jonghyun felt happy just staring at it. "Hello!" a soft voice called.
Jonghyun whispered back. "Hello!"
And that was how they both got caught.
"Jinki! Jonghyun!"
They both jumped guiltily, and Jonghyun's head hit the underside of the desk. He wondered how anyone could have seen him, then realised, despite his smarting head, that his own toes were sticking out.
They were pulled to their feet by their ears, boxed, and lead to the dorm they have been surreptitiously avoiding - the seven year olds' floor.
"You are in disgrace," the stern old woman spoke, in a clipped accent. "This town has never seen such misbehaved children - hiding from growth! Escaping your elders, for months on end!" Here she gave Jonghyun's new friend, Jinki, a particularly vicious tug on his ear. "You will not room with the other seven year olds. You will stay in a room with some other children who could not fit in due to numbers."
'Due to numbers' meant there hadn't been space on their respective floors. Jonghyun hoped fervently that there were younger kids, not terrible, bossy elder ones.
When he was steered into a plain, empty room with a dilapidated cot and two beds with rusting posts, he thought there had been a happy mistake - perhaps they were to live alone! But over the following week they were joined by two three years old, perpetually asleep babies who resided in the cot, a quiet-voiced, wide-eyed boy of five who sucked his thumb, and, finally, another boy who never spoke and scrawled on the walls in crayon.
"Hey, remember the second boy?" Jonghyun mused, and suddenly realized that his shoes were squelching. Finally, they were on dry ground. Although, he realized, as he reached out a hand to lean on the wall, moisture seeped from everywhere else. Jinki slowed his steps. "The second baby? The one who looked like a relative of Taemin's?"
"That's the one."
"His name was Jongin, I think. His mother came for him."
Oh, yes. She'd come for her child. Those ones were rare. And wealthy.
You're pretty," Kibum whispered, for the fifth time. She smiled, kindly, and drew a little blue flower on the wall, next to his purple one.
"When will my Jongin be fed?"
"Noon," Kibum replied, staring at her hands. Her fingers were long and pale. He scrawled over his flower in blue, too. "Are you Jongin's mumma?"
"Yes, I am." A butterfly was quickly sketched, with yellow wings polka-dotted in pink.
"Are you my mumma?" His hand stopped drawing, and he stared at her very hard.
The smile turned small. She looked sad, now. "I don't think so, honey."
"You can be my mumma, if you want," Kibum offered. He began to draw again, but the lines were shaky - shakier than usual. "I can love you a lot." It was the first time Jonghyun heard him talk so much at once. The lady stayed silent. She smiled a little wider, but still she looked sad. "I don't know," she said, quietly. Jinki stirred from his story book and looked up, expression searching.
"I want you to be my mumma," Kibum stuck his lower lip out. He took up a red crayon and scrawled over his own work, reached for her hand and held onto her little finger. "Please be my mumma," he whispered. "Please take me away."
The lady pulled him on her lap, and rocked him back and forth. But even Kibum understood her silence. He hid his face in her shoulder and sobbed. He called her his mumma and wailed, and his little feet kicked her as he rubbed his face in her shirt, fists clinging around her neck.
Jinki stood up and walked over to them, pulled him away.
"Shh," he said, not that it made a difference.
Kibum kept crying loudly until a man came in, holding the baby. Then he fell silent and stared at the other child, anger in every feature of his face. Still tears kept fighting to fall. Jonghyun held his hand as she got up and went away, carrying Jongin.
"That was my mumma," he whispered stubbornly, as they settled down to sleep, hours later. "She'll come back." His face was pale and drawn, eyes red from crying. His hands trembled with effort as he pulled the blanket up to his chin. Minho turned on his side and hugged him. Kibum sniffed and hugged him back.
"She never came back, you know," Jonghyun sighed, legs weary as they climbed up a seemingly infinite number of steps.
"Oh, well," Jinki readjusted the straps of his bag. "We did kind of know she wouldn't."
"You think Kibum remembers?"
"Maybe, maybe not. Chances are he's forgotten it on purpose. Minho might, though."
They paused to take their shoes and socks off, and roll up their pants. "Our feet are getting dirtier by the second," Jonghyun noted, finally.
Jinki couldn't reply - they had reached the fifth floor, and a great deal of yelling was going on in all the rooms. Kibum skidded into them. "Eons later you guys arrive!"
"Grandfathers, both of you," Taemin rushed up as well, panting.
Minho peeked from behind a door. "They don't understand, hyung. They want separate rooms for themselves because they think they're kings when they're actually spoilt brats."
Kibum threw a shoe at him. It missed, but he looked very satisfied, anyway. Jonghyun shook his head and dragged Taemin along to the room Minho was in. Jinki stayed behind to explain the problem to Kibum.
Quietly sorting through the bag and placing its contents on top of a rickety shelf, they heard voices outside rising. "What d'you mean, we can't live in the other rooms? They're all fine, perfectly fine!"
Jinki's voice was lower and more muffled, but in the end Kibum stepped in, looking disgruntled. "If the roof falls in here, I am through with you all."
"Now then," Minho widened his eyes, "You don't mean that."
Kibum shot him an annoyed look. "Why do you always take me so seriously? Nobody else does."
There was an awkward silence. "Now then," Minho said again, uneasily. "That's not true." He nudged the ground with his foot.
"If the roof falls in," Taemin added, breezily, "There will be nobody to be through with. We'll all be - " and he drew a finger across his neck with an expressive look on his face. Apart from Jinki clearing his throat and dumped Kibum's blankets on him, he was ignored.
Jonghyun passed a hand over his forehead. "Nearest depot, anybody?"
"Don't care," Taemin groaned, managing to poke his head out of the heap. "Wanna sleep."
Minho nodded in agreement.
"I'll go," Jinki said, feeling Kibum's wrist. "Jonghyun, you already went twice yesterday. You stay." With that, he left again.
Taemin had enough wits left to snicker. "Dissed," he whispered, dramatically, and began to snore.
Outside the barred window, Jonghyun could still see the rain, pouring, pouring, pouring.
[ ii ]
unbeta'd except for the first few paragraphs, which I had THE GR9 swiftlocks AND MY LOVELY THYPIE read over.
( THIS IS AN EARLY BIRTHDAY PRESENT TO MY DEAREST AND MOST SASSY COOL CLEVER AWESOME volti_subito WHOSE FICS YOU SHOULD ALSO CHECK OUT BECAUSE BAMF AND AWESOME I'm actually embarrassed posting this because wow she's so cool ):
6,163 w
All the strangers came today
And it looks as though they're here to stay.
Times were hard. They had to scrummage for food in the food depots, even though everyone knew the depots were useless. You could go there, before the trucks came with ration packets, at 3.48 a.m., with dust and gunk in your eyes and sweat sticking your shirt to your back in itchy folds, and wait, and you'd still never get a full ration packet. Jonghyun remembered the first time he'd gotten a full one - he was twelve, he'd been in line for four hours, and the bangs over his face were red from some spray paint can he'd found in an abandoned basement. It was probably one of the best days in his life. It was six years ago, and he'd never gotten a full packet again.
The reason for this wasn't as shrouded in mystery as a stranger to the situation might think it to be. It was simple: the rich had a lot of money (that is, primarily, the reason they were - and are - labelled as 'rich'), and do whatever they want with it to get anything they want. In this particular case, the vast 'anything' is replaced by a particular subcategory, 'food', adjacent to an adjectival phrase 'a lot of', which results in the want of 'a lot of food'. This they paid scandalous amounts for, without care of (although, in some odd cases, with the particular intention of cutting off means for) others. Anyone without wealth automatically had to resign to a lack of food also.
The government's eternal clamouring advertisements of free education were mostly ignored. Survival mattered, not civilisation. The quickest means of getting food was stealing, in itself a laborious task. Nobody in their region of the city - nobody had anything. You had to scale walls festered with ivy and barbed wire to get into the suburbs, where there was anything worth stealing. A successful day might get two bagels and a half-empty glass of milk ("Half-full," Jinki insisted). The milk always went to the youngest in the family. Jonghyun never really got the point, but it seemed some sort of unspoken law amongst everybody, and Jinki had a lot of long-winded passages about morality and calcium and the betterment of the majority or something to back it up, so he didn't really mind.
Times were hard, and there was next to no hope of things getting better.
The boy in front of him turned to his left and walked away, head down. It was Jonghyun's turn. The machine whirred and bent down over a great heap of shining black plastic, plucked something and placed it in front of him. It looked suspiciously devoid of substance. But it could be water. Sometimes the packets just had water. He stared hard at it for a few seconds, then shrugged and grabbed it, walking away in his own turn.
The day was grey, like everything else in the city. The sky was bleak, hopeless, the buildings tall and dead. The wind blew over his ears and into his hair. His bangs were blond and brown. Bleach wasn't that hard to come by.
The gravel caught in his toes. He frowned as he pushed past warmth and flesh, the surging walls of people. They were all waiting, scrambling, yelling for food. Everyone knew the depots were useless, but they had no other option. He stuffed the packet in his pocket, away from grimy, grabbing hands. It made a reassuring bulge on his waist, and fingered the shape of it as he made his way home.
Home was a mile away. He usually took around three quarters of an hour, tops. (It was something most people were surprised by - his being short, and fast anyway.) Something was very bad about the day, though. Hopelessness and grey and dirt and heat - he knew them, and knew them well. But there was a smell in the air, a tint to it that he couldn't understand. Not dangerous, but potentially... potentially something. Unknown. He was wary.
He cleared the crowds in fifteen minutes, and looked up at the heavy, red sun. It looked fat, as if it was feeding off the hunger of everyone in all the half-starved places. Probably around ten million. Then he noticed something strange about it that he couldn't recall seeing before - the egg-yolk in the sky was frying - something he'd only seen twice before in his life, in a pan, and never before in the sky. The thing was wavering around its rusty edges, its circumference shrinking and growing infinitesimally. As he squinted at it, brows knit together, he felt something like cold water water drip onto his forehead, and batted at the sudden invasion quickly. The only moisture he saw, as he lowered his hand to his eyes, was sweat. But there was always sweat! And it never appeared suddenly. It squeezed out the skin in tiny beads that grew larger and larger until they trickled down.
Strange. He shrugged it off, still frowning.
Nothing else happened by the time he reached. The good window was shut and the broken one faced an impossibly tiny cranny, so he couldn't tell whether or not anyone was home. 'Welcome' said the semicircular mat outside the bent door. 'Dust off your Godforsaken dirty feet over here before entering, you little twit,' it meant. Jonghyun smiled and jumped lightly over it.
Only Jinki seemed to be at home, and he had that metal thing turned on, as usual. He was looking worried. "What's that again?" Jonghyun nodded casually towards it, making for the sink to wash his hands. "Oh, and morning," he added, as Jinki only nodded absently and leaned closer to it, fiddling with a knob. A shrill, whirring sound came from it. "TURN IT OFF!" he yelled, and Jinki looked at him with surprise, as if only then realizing that he'd arrived. His fingers snapped the knob the other way quickly, and it came out in his hand. He hissed, but waved at Jonghyun. "Good morning," he smiled quietly, as he struggled to put it back in. "Got food?"
"Mm. Don't think so. Maybe just water." A few drops hustled quickly out the tap, and he wiped them up to his wrists. Jinki nodded again, sitting back on his haunches and looking at him properly. "It's good. We need clean water."
"Clean," Jonghyun repeated, thickly. He didn't really care about clean. He'd rather it was simply there, and drinkable, and didn't make any of them sick. The only things he liked clean, if he was honest with himself, were hands, and hair. Not to eat, but to look at. Touch and feel with. Jinki's hair were soft, and dark, mousy brown. He'd never spray painted his hair - although he spray painted everyone else's. Kids around the area would save up on little tidbits or metal scraps to come get their hair sprayed. Taemin wanted his own done, but they'd told him to wait a year. Then he'd gone off in a sulk.
"Well, let's see the packet, then," Jinki said, breaking into his thoughts. Jonghyun wrinkled his nose in distaste. He hated 'seeing it'. It filled his appetite better just to rest his eyes on those black polythene bags and imagine what was in them. Their actual contents never failed to dismay. He brought the packet out anyhow, and sniffed. There the smell was again, only much fainter. Perhaps it was just the packet, after all.
Open here, the white letters said (they'd all learned to read), as usual, and so he opened there. The zip lock popped apart, and the two boys peered inside. Then they sat back.
Jonghyun's face was nonplussed, but Jinki was clearly affected. His muscles couldn't settle on an expression. Finally he let out a breath and said, "What."
"Told you they'd sink that low."
Hinges shrieked and Minho slouched in. "Got an empty packet."
Jinki stood up in astonishment, Jonghyun dragged him back down.
"Same," he replied, and Minho just shrugged and lay down on his mat.
"What are we going to do?" Jinki stared at the floor, blankly. "This hasn't happened. Ever."
"We haven't gotten packets before," Kibum piped up from his corner. Jonghyun started. He hadn't seen him when he'd come in. Kibum peeked out from under a pile of sheets, in a fever for the past two days. His face was flushed and his eyes too bright. "That's basically the same thing. Right?" he argued, then sneezed.
Jonghyun looked at Jinki, but he'd retreated to the cabinets, avoiding everything.
"They've stopped trying to provide us with anything, that's the point," Jonghyun supplied, and Jinki just shook his head, disbelieving.
"Hyung," Minho mumbled, eyes closed. "It's happened. There's nothing we can do about it. But it's going to be okay. Something else will come along. That's the way it's always been."
Jinki didn't seem to take notice. When he guessed everyone else to be asleep, he squeezed out through the broken window. Jonghyun was trying hard, but it had always taken him longer to drop off. He watched him through half-closed lids and sighed when Jinki left, facing the ceiling.
The dude was going to go and do something stupid, he could feel it in his bones. There was no doubt about it. The question was: should he go after him, or shouldn't he? He turned around to look at Kibum. Pale brown lashes curled onto soft, babyish cheeks. The kid gave a snore, and his forehead creased. Jonghyun reached out and smoothed the wrinkles, then shook his head and got up. Within a minute, he'd left, too.
As it turned out, Jinki didn't actually do anything dumb - he'd just went to the depot to wait. Jonghyun could make out his bright red T-shirt from a distance. Shoving his way past a bunch of rowdy fifteen year olds, he joined him,
"Thought I'd try my luck," Jinki whispered, oddly audible through the din.
"How do you always know when one of us is around?" Jonghyun whispered back, grinning. "You didn't even look at me."
Jinki reached up and tapped his nose meaningfully, then gave an exaggerated sniff. "The stink."
Jonghyun shook his head, chidingly. "Your luck is as good as it can get, hyung. Don't push it."
Jinki just made a face.
It took them two further hours to get near the front of the line. Jonghyun somehow managed to catch snoozes standing up, on Jinki's shoulder (which, by then, was generously wet with drool).
"Here goes," Jinki whispered, patting Jonghyun's hand and stepping forward. Jonghyun stumbled, half asleep.
"Huh?" Then he straightened up at once. That smell. It wasn't really unpleasant, but still. Then Jinki grabbed his hand and made a dash for it, back through the crowds.
"Trying to beat me?" Jonghyun yelled, over everyone else's noise.
"Trying? Really? This isn't even close," Jinki shouted back to him, and suddenly the strange smell made him feel exhilarated, not wary. He gave a short laugh, and the wind went up against his face, cold, spiking through his eyes and rushing into his ears. He felt nothing but his feet, pounding against the open road.
"Wait up!" he hared Jinki say, faintly, so he slowed down.
They reached the 'welcome' mat at the same time, panting. "That was great," Jonghyun thunked his head back against the door frame, breathing heavily.
"Got something better," Jinki wheezed, bending down and leaning on his knees.
"Milk?" a boy stuck his head out the window, but Jonghyun pushed his little face away.
"No, really," Taemin greeted them as he opened the door. "Is there any milk?" He batted his lashes for extra effect.
"You're fourteen," Jonghyun told him seriously. "You ought to learn your place." Heedless, Jinki ruffled his hair as they walked in. Jonghyun's eyebrows sank an impressive distance. "Why do I bother."
Kibum rasped senselessly from under the window, then cleared his throat and tried again. "Hey, you two."
Jinki delved into his jeans' pocket and waved a packet in reply.
"This has got stuff, guys. Promise."
"Gimme," Jonghyun made a grab for it, but Minho got it first. He had it open in a second, then hesitated.
"Well, go on," Taemin prompted, so Minho tentatively lowered a finger inside. Then he stopped and took a deep breath. Jinki, despite his confident promise, eyed him fearfully. Kibum just smiled, tired.
"There is indeed stuff," Minho proclaimed, importantly, and Taemin let out a whoop.
Since it was Jonghyun's turn to take out the contents of the packet that day, everyone else joined Kibum and sat in relative silence. Except for Jinki. "Now, don't think there's milk in there, okay, because there mightn't be any. There's probably no chocolate, because we haven't had it since last year. Plus, we'll need to give a lot to Kibum, because he's sick. Okay?"
Taemin sulked, silent.
"You don't have to," Kibum commented, and that, as everyone could correctly predict, settled it.
"Who said I was going to say no?" Taemin fired back at once, sitting up straight. "Of course I will!"
Jinki quietly patted his back, and Taemin tried not to let a pleased look steal over his irritated expression. They waited some more, listening to Jonghyun as he hummed and put everything in plates.
Taemin let out another whoop when he saw his share. "Full packet," Jonghyun whispered to Jinki, as they nibbled on their biscuits (2 pieces each), and Jinki beamed. "Look where pushing my luck got me."
By the time dinner was over, though, he was looking slightly upset again. Again he left through the window when everyone had dozed off, and, after a while, again Jonghyun followed him. Jinki was sitting on the welcome mat, hugging his knees.
"What's up?"
"There's a smell, did you notice? And today was hot, then suddenly cold."
Jonghyun nodded, but shrugged. "Could say the same about Taemin. His showers are shorter and scarcer than mine, and then he goes all hormonal and - and mood swung."
Jinki gave a little laugh, carefully low. It carried on the wind and echoed softly. Jonghyun closed his eyes and leaned his head on Jinki's shoulder.
"Hey, Jinki?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think I'll grow taller than you?"
"I... honestly? Don't think so."
Jonghyun rubbed his head sleepily against the familiar arm. "Good."
Jinki gave another small laugh. "I thought you want to be tall."
"No," he mumbled, shivering slightly in the breeze. "Much better like this. Comfortable, when I'm smaller."
Jinki didn't say anything, but he covered Jonghyun's hand with his, leaning his cheek on the other's head.
They stayed liked that, in hazy, dim silence for a while. It really was comfortable. Jonghyun was about to battle against the weight of his sleep-heavy tongue and reiterate the fact, when a sudden plop of cold landed on his forehead. He gave a yelp and sprang to his feet. Except for Jinki, blearily opening his eyes, nobody else was around. Another plop plopped on his right eyebrow, then on his head, two on his shoulders, in quick succession. Before he knew what was happening, he was half-soaked, and there was a soft roar in his ears, water rushing down to him in truckloads.
"The hell?" he shouted, and hurried back inside through the door. Jinki stood up, slowly, a wondering smile on his face.
"Jinki, get out of there!" He made a grab for his arm, but Jinki stepped away into those curtains - for curtains is what the water had become - at that very moment. Then something terrible rolled all around him - a giant sound, some kind of tremor. Minho sat up straight with a grunt. Kibum peered through his coverings.
"What's going on?" Minho yawned.
White light screamed in the sky - at least, that's what Jonghyun thought. It didn't make any sound, but it looked angry, with the sudden spikes that flashed everywhere. "Jinki," he called, desperate. His voice was drowned by the noise.
But Jinki turned around. His shirt clung desperately to his skin, his hair glued to his face. He spread his arms and grinned, said something that Jonghyun couldn't make out.
Taemin stirred. "What's up?"
Kibum shushed him quickly and pulled himself up by the windowsill to look out. His eyes narrowed first, then widened. "What is it?" Taemin hissed, and jumped up himself. Kibum barred the way to the window, so he shot out the door. Jonghyun made a futile grab at him.
The sonorous noise came again, the clumsiness of the sound making him think of great rolls of carpet tumbling about over the sky in a ruckus.
Taemin bolted back inside, wet and shivering. Minho frowned, his drowsy mind slow on the uptake. "What made you think slipping into the water reservoirs was a good idea? Now we don't have any clean water at all, and you probably sick besides."
Kibum clicked his tongue impatiently, but didn't bother to correct him. Taemin just stood in the middle of the room and sniffled. Minho shrugged, stretched and mumbled something about changing shirts. Taemin shook his head, and Minho went back to sleep. Jonghyun glared at his feet for a few seconds, then took a deep breath and stepped out.
At once he was peppered with a thousand kisses from the sky, little water droplets pattering on his arms and landing in his hair. They snuck onto his nape and under his shirt, bounced on his nose and splashed around his ankles. And above all, he felt cold. His muscles spasmed, unaccustomed. Still terrified, he slowly lifted his face up, vulnerable to whatever decided to attack him. The water kept pouring, seeping past his lips, wetting his brows, flitting over his cheeks. Nothing else happened. There was no more noise, no more white spikes in the sky. It was almost calming. His jaw gradually unclenched, his hands relaxed and hung loosely by his sides. He still did not trust it fully, but so far it hadn't done him much harm.
"Hey," something whispered in his ear, and he shrieked and fled back inside.
Kibum fell down laughing, and Jinki smiled at him sheepishly.
"For God's sake," Jonghyun waved his fist threateningly, then dropped with a sigh. "What is that?"
"Water, I think," Kibum said, holding out his . He'd stuck it out the window, and now it was wet, droplets streaming down and pooling on the floor.
"Cold," Taemin added, pulling on a new shirt.
"Precipitation," Jinki pronounced, carefully. They stared at him. He stared back, puzzled. "What?"
"Every now and then you come up with a new word you've from school that we've never heard of, and then you teach it to us and it takes a very long time for us to get it."
Everyone now stared at Minho, who opened his gunky eyes with a defeated expression. Kibum began a slow clap which nobody else joined in on because they were still digesting what Minho had said.
"Well..." Jinki started, uncertainly. "People also call it 'rain' for short, and it wasn't harmful, most of the time. It's just water from clouds."
Jonghyun felt relieved. "But the noise, and the lights?" Taemin prompted.
So Jinki had to go on and tell them about thunder and lightning, and static electricity. Most of it flew over their heads, but Taemin seemed terribly interested anyway. The sky outside changed from light grey to dark grey to purple.
Gradually, the others fell asleep, and still the rain fell in a friendly whisper. Jinki stared up at the ceiling, then at the boys, lying all around him. He smiled, and curled up. He was dreaming of kites and lightning within minutes.
___
Jonghyun woke because of the scream. He jumped up, slipped and fell back with a splash. His head hit the ground, and water smoothed over his face, going into his nose and stinging his brain. He grabbed at the door frame and pulled his head up.
Outside, the rain was no longer soft and welcoming. It spoke with a continuous harshness that had none of the comforting tones of the day before.
A hand beat wildly against his knee. Taemin was suffocating. He pulled him up at once, and the boy clung to him, spluttering and choking. They waded to the other side of the room, where Kibum was sitting up, shaking. "Hey, man," Jonghyun took his hand. "Come on."
Kibum stared at him for a while, as if he was looking at the wall behind him. Then he cleared his throat. "Yeah," he nodded, swallowing. "Yeah, okay." He squeezed Jonghyun's hand, fingers cold, as if asking for reassurance.
"Come on," Jonghyun said again, squeezing back, and Kibum attempted to smile.
They got up, and walked out into the rain. It beat down on them, making Taemin shrink miserably against the wall. Jonghyun couldn't blame him. He was surprised, though, by Kibum. Wrapped in sheets and a mat, looking little more than a bedraggled bundle of cloth, he stepped into the middle of the street and sat down, arms spread out before him, face turned up to the sky.
"What's going on," Taemin mumbled. His tone wasn't questioning; he was merely commenting on the stupendous circumstances in a vague way. "Everything's crazy," Jonghyun shrugged, gripping his spindly arms and holding him close.
"Everything's always crazy," Taemin nuzzled into his side, eyes screwed shut. Jonghyun didn't have an answer. Then again, it wasn't like Taemin needed one.
He hummed to himself a little, not caring if he sounded toneless or off key - the rain tattooed itself onto his shoulders and into his hearing, and he could barely perceive anything else. Taemin didn't speak anymore, and Kibum slowly took off his shell in layers, folding each sheet neatly, soaking wet. Then he stumbled quietly about, walking in circles. Their neighbours, Jonghyun figured, were probably at the depots, or locked up inside their homes.
Eventually, two brown figures huddled onto the far end of the road. Taemin stirred, and ran to meet them, the water splashing up to his knees. Jinki reached them first. He rubbed Kibum's back and waded over to Jonghyun. He looked calmer, Jonghyun realized, than he had in years. Probably in twelve years, the day he'd met him. The best day of his life.
He watched Jinki ruffle Taemin's hair and say something, and smiled.
"Yo," Jinki snapped his fingers. "Can't have you zoning out, man, you're my rock here."
"You're not the only one with a rock," was his annoyed rejoinder. "I have a rock, too." Then he realized it sounded nice, and quickly added, "I should throw it at you, for not being there when we nearly died today."
"You what." That wasn't a question. It was shock.
"The water's really high, I'm sure you can see," he explained, wearily. "Taemin almost suffocated. Been waiting out for you two to come back so we could find another place." He glanced at the clock tower in the distance. "About an hour. Kibum's just sat around or walked around in this rain thing. Dunno if that's good for him or not."
Jinki looked haggard, now. Jonghyun almost regretted telling him anything. Still, he defended him silently, he'd have to learn of it sooner or later.
"It's good for Bum," Jinki ran a hand through his hair, voice cracking with strain. "Minho and I actually left early to look for a new place, you know? I'd figured it'd rise, but I didn't know it would... happen so fast." He blinked and looked out at Kibum, who was angrily saying something to a sheepish Minho. Taemin was on his backing, splashing the water with his hands.
"Well, then," Jonghyun said, softening, "You've got a place, and we're all okay. That's good, right?"
Jinki nodded, waded inside without a word. Jonghyun sighed and followed him.
Their mats were floating a few inches off the ground. Jinki's bag was safe, up on the shelf over the sink. Their shoes were soggy. The bag where they kept their clothes was, thankfully, waterproof. It bobbed morosely in a corner. Jonghyun realized only now the importance of its covering.
"Not much to pack, huh?" he said, and Jinki nodded again, grabbing the clothes bag first. He reached for his own, but Jonghyun sloshed forward and got it first. "Okay then," he said, ignoring the look of surprise on the other's face, "To this new place we head."
Jinki opened his mouth, then closed it. "Well, I mean... yeah, I guess?"
Jonghyun nudged him, and he turned around and lead the way out. The other three were waiting by the door. Minho had probably filled them in.
They fell in line on the road, Minho leading, Kibum and Taemin behind him, Jonghyun making sure Kibum didn't fall, and Jinki at the rear. "You don't have to be all that far back," Jonghyun said to him, but Jinki mumbled something about intruders from behind and having a lot to think about.
"We're moving pretty far," Jonghyun noted, looking over his shoulder.
Jinki chewed his lip, looking preoccupied. "Hmm."
"Reminds me of something," he added.
Jinki looked up, smiling shyly. "Does it?"
Jonghyun slowed down to walk in step with him. "Sure. Something about a bunch of babies playing at men."
Jinki grinned, and the stretch of his mouth was slightly lopsided, the way it was when he felt nostalgic. "Taemin was the only actual baby, then."
"You were seven."
They both chuckled.
"Have we changed, though? At all?" Jinki asked, squinting up at the sky. It answered with petting drops that made him squeeze his eyes shut and yelp.
"Well," Jonghyun pretended to think hard, "Maybe you've gotten better at banging."
Jinki scoffed. "There was no scope for improvement, please. I was born perfect in that area of life." They both laughed again. Up ahead, Kibum sighed and rested his head on Minho's shoulder as he rode on his back. Taemin rolled his eyes, left alone in the middle with the mountain of Kibum's coverings.
"But I mean," Jinki sighed, "Aren't we still just playing at men?"
Jonghyun stayed silent, and they bumped shoulders.
___
It was what Jonghyun had guessed - they had returned to their oldest home.
Way back when, there had been hundreds of children in the high-rise apartment buildings, five to a dilapidated room The babies that turned up on doorsteps were gathered onto the roofs, for fresh air and sunlight. The whole district used to echo endlessly with their wails. Now, as they traipsed through little streams that were streets, there was no one. Not a single shirt hung outside the windows, and all the graffiti was faded. Wistfully the five looked all around, remembering times spent and emotions felt.
"Remember?" they whispered to one another, and Taemin played hopscotch by himself on the pavement. Kibum slid off Minho's back and ran towards him to join in. "Wait, where is it?" he frowned.
"It used to be there," Taemin mumbled. "I remember." He went back to the others.
Kibum bit his lip, then sighed.
"Is it just me, or have our hands been colliding frequently in the past few minutes?" Jonghyun whispered, and shook his head as Jinki's hand finally grabbed his, none too gently.
"What's there to shake heads about?" Jinki retorted, staunchly, and almost tripped over the oncoming steps.
"Your general idiocy," Jonghyun shook his head a second time.
"I'll leave your hand if you do that again," Jinki told him, seriously.
"You won't," Jonghyun shook his head. Jinki didn't. (He did, however, manage to sneak in a miscalculated peck on the rim of his ear.)
They bumped into Taemin, who bumped into Kibum, who squawked into Minho, who stumbled on the steps of the building, and slipped. They all swept down with him, and landed in a bruised heap on the road.
"Remember when something like this happened to us around New Year's?" Kibum was the first to detach himself and (uselessly) pat himself down. "Ugh, I'm filthy and wet."
"Wow, tell me more," someone muttered, but nobody could figure out who.
"I missed the fireworks up on the rich end, then," Taemin complained.
"Yes, we all did," Minho reminded him, dragging him onto his feet.
"And the government's building-scaling law was rendered obsolete," Jonghyun joined in, proudly, as if he had brought that revolution about. "I scaled ours in, what, four hours?" He flapped his arms around, to feel warm. Jinki hugged him from behind. "Nope, six."
"Let's leave them to their procreation!" Kibum yelled, and the other three raced up the stairs and went inside.
"You're embarrassing," Jonghyun sighed, patting the chubby fingers at his waist contentedly.
"That sounded like a compliment."
"Perhaps it was."
They rocked around, from side to side, the water up to their knees. "What floor are we staying on this time?"
"Fifth. All the other rooms are inhabitable."
Jonghyun slipped slightly. "Wait, wait. You mean uninhabitable."
Jinki stopped moving, and stayed still for a few seconds as Jonghyun regained his balance. "Oh, right. Yeah."
Jonghyun hitched his bag further up his waist, so it wouldn't get wet. "Think we should get going, then."
Jinki made a face into his hair.
"No, really."
Reluctantly, hands slid off Jonghyun's waist and they made their way up, silently.
Jonghyun tilted his head, remembering, remembering...
He hid underneath the nearest table, tucking his legs underneath him. Footsteps padded quickly by, then retraced themselves and paused by the table. He held his breath; a big toe reached out and nudged his thigh. He let out a sigh of relief. All the grown-ups wore shoes. Besides, the big toe wasn't really big. It was probably as big as his own.
Then the toe withdrew, two feet came into view, then two shins and knees, two palms, and finally a very friendly, small head. The eyes were as small as the grin was wide - and the grin was really wide. Jonghyun felt happy just staring at it. "Hello!" a soft voice called.
Jonghyun whispered back. "Hello!"
And that was how they both got caught.
"Jinki! Jonghyun!"
They both jumped guiltily, and Jonghyun's head hit the underside of the desk. He wondered how anyone could have seen him, then realised, despite his smarting head, that his own toes were sticking out.
They were pulled to their feet by their ears, boxed, and lead to the dorm they have been surreptitiously avoiding - the seven year olds' floor.
"You are in disgrace," the stern old woman spoke, in a clipped accent. "This town has never seen such misbehaved children - hiding from growth! Escaping your elders, for months on end!" Here she gave Jonghyun's new friend, Jinki, a particularly vicious tug on his ear. "You will not room with the other seven year olds. You will stay in a room with some other children who could not fit in due to numbers."
'Due to numbers' meant there hadn't been space on their respective floors. Jonghyun hoped fervently that there were younger kids, not terrible, bossy elder ones.
When he was steered into a plain, empty room with a dilapidated cot and two beds with rusting posts, he thought there had been a happy mistake - perhaps they were to live alone! But over the following week they were joined by two three years old, perpetually asleep babies who resided in the cot, a quiet-voiced, wide-eyed boy of five who sucked his thumb, and, finally, another boy who never spoke and scrawled on the walls in crayon.
"Hey, remember the second boy?" Jonghyun mused, and suddenly realized that his shoes were squelching. Finally, they were on dry ground. Although, he realized, as he reached out a hand to lean on the wall, moisture seeped from everywhere else. Jinki slowed his steps. "The second baby? The one who looked like a relative of Taemin's?"
"That's the one."
"His name was Jongin, I think. His mother came for him."
Oh, yes. She'd come for her child. Those ones were rare. And wealthy.
You're pretty," Kibum whispered, for the fifth time. She smiled, kindly, and drew a little blue flower on the wall, next to his purple one.
"When will my Jongin be fed?"
"Noon," Kibum replied, staring at her hands. Her fingers were long and pale. He scrawled over his flower in blue, too. "Are you Jongin's mumma?"
"Yes, I am." A butterfly was quickly sketched, with yellow wings polka-dotted in pink.
"Are you my mumma?" His hand stopped drawing, and he stared at her very hard.
The smile turned small. She looked sad, now. "I don't think so, honey."
"You can be my mumma, if you want," Kibum offered. He began to draw again, but the lines were shaky - shakier than usual. "I can love you a lot." It was the first time Jonghyun heard him talk so much at once. The lady stayed silent. She smiled a little wider, but still she looked sad. "I don't know," she said, quietly. Jinki stirred from his story book and looked up, expression searching.
"I want you to be my mumma," Kibum stuck his lower lip out. He took up a red crayon and scrawled over his own work, reached for her hand and held onto her little finger. "Please be my mumma," he whispered. "Please take me away."
The lady pulled him on her lap, and rocked him back and forth. But even Kibum understood her silence. He hid his face in her shoulder and sobbed. He called her his mumma and wailed, and his little feet kicked her as he rubbed his face in her shirt, fists clinging around her neck.
Jinki stood up and walked over to them, pulled him away.
"Shh," he said, not that it made a difference.
Kibum kept crying loudly until a man came in, holding the baby. Then he fell silent and stared at the other child, anger in every feature of his face. Still tears kept fighting to fall. Jonghyun held his hand as she got up and went away, carrying Jongin.
"That was my mumma," he whispered stubbornly, as they settled down to sleep, hours later. "She'll come back." His face was pale and drawn, eyes red from crying. His hands trembled with effort as he pulled the blanket up to his chin. Minho turned on his side and hugged him. Kibum sniffed and hugged him back.
"She never came back, you know," Jonghyun sighed, legs weary as they climbed up a seemingly infinite number of steps.
"Oh, well," Jinki readjusted the straps of his bag. "We did kind of know she wouldn't."
"You think Kibum remembers?"
"Maybe, maybe not. Chances are he's forgotten it on purpose. Minho might, though."
They paused to take their shoes and socks off, and roll up their pants. "Our feet are getting dirtier by the second," Jonghyun noted, finally.
Jinki couldn't reply - they had reached the fifth floor, and a great deal of yelling was going on in all the rooms. Kibum skidded into them. "Eons later you guys arrive!"
"Grandfathers, both of you," Taemin rushed up as well, panting.
Minho peeked from behind a door. "They don't understand, hyung. They want separate rooms for themselves because they think they're kings when they're actually spoilt brats."
Kibum threw a shoe at him. It missed, but he looked very satisfied, anyway. Jonghyun shook his head and dragged Taemin along to the room Minho was in. Jinki stayed behind to explain the problem to Kibum.
Quietly sorting through the bag and placing its contents on top of a rickety shelf, they heard voices outside rising. "What d'you mean, we can't live in the other rooms? They're all fine, perfectly fine!"
Jinki's voice was lower and more muffled, but in the end Kibum stepped in, looking disgruntled. "If the roof falls in here, I am through with you all."
"Now then," Minho widened his eyes, "You don't mean that."
Kibum shot him an annoyed look. "Why do you always take me so seriously? Nobody else does."
There was an awkward silence. "Now then," Minho said again, uneasily. "That's not true." He nudged the ground with his foot.
"If the roof falls in," Taemin added, breezily, "There will be nobody to be through with. We'll all be - " and he drew a finger across his neck with an expressive look on his face. Apart from Jinki clearing his throat and dumped Kibum's blankets on him, he was ignored.
Jonghyun passed a hand over his forehead. "Nearest depot, anybody?"
"Don't care," Taemin groaned, managing to poke his head out of the heap. "Wanna sleep."
Minho nodded in agreement.
"I'll go," Jinki said, feeling Kibum's wrist. "Jonghyun, you already went twice yesterday. You stay." With that, he left again.
Taemin had enough wits left to snicker. "Dissed," he whispered, dramatically, and began to snore.
Outside the barred window, Jonghyun could still see the rain, pouring, pouring, pouring.
[ ii ]