oh, you pretty things; ii

[aitibar]

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 of part i, 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 ):

5,628 w



It went on for three more days, a week - Jonghyun stopped bothering to keep count. They got food more often, and more wet - Minho took to stealing. Jinki frowned and never ate it, but he kept silent. Taemin ingested everything ravenously.

Kibum, on the other hand, couldn't care less. He sat on the windowsill, skinny legs fitting between the bars and dangling outside, one arm always stretched out to catch the rain.

"It's actually lowering his temperature," Jinki confided to Jonghyun, as they lay side by side in the attic, watching the rain fall through the slanted glass wall.

Jonghyun nodded absently, surveying the city. It lay in ruins - trees floated about in the streets and the paint on the building in front had completely peeled off. The water had turned the cement to a sodden, hideous greyish-beige, and its grimy, cracked windows stood out like so many broken teeth.

Traffic signs and advertisements and campaign boards bobbed by daily, and presently a long white one came into view. The lettering was such a light yellow that he didn't bother trying to read it, but he caught Jinki looking at it and inhaling sharply. When he turned to read it, Jinki clapped a hand over his eyes before his eyes could get past the letters 'O v e r p o'. "Don't," Jinki said, voice shaking. "Please don't."

"I can't, anyway," Jonghyun replied, matter-of-factly.

"Right," Jinki swallowed, and let his hand fall. Jonghyun looked for the board again, but it was gone.

"What was on it?" he asked, knowing it was useless. Sure enough, Jinki just shook his head and held his hand, thumb drawing circles into his wrist. They didn't say anymore, and as the minutes rippled forward, the way the dimples in water spread outside in the street, Jonghyun stowed the strange moment away and thought instead of how silences were some of the most important and sacred privilege they had, together. No pressure, no one to think of, just plain old them, being comfortable, and living. Sometimes Jinki would have a book and Jonghyun would read over his shoulder, or lie down nearby, sometimes Jonghyun would clean and Jinki would help out, sometimes it was the way they were right now - just breathing, barely touching.

He propped himself up on his elbow, stared at Jinki staring out with his lips pursed, eyes blinking slowly. Eventually, Jinki turned and stared back, his pucker turning into a grin. "Hello," he said.

"Hello," Jonghyun said, grinning back.

Jinki wiggled closer, nose brushing against his cheek. "Hello," he breathed.

Jonghyun laughed, shoulders shaking, not making a sound. "Hi there," he murmured, reaching up a hand and placing it on Jinki's back. "How're you doing?" Jinki laid his leg over Jonghyun's, tracing his jaw with soft pecks.

"Very good, actually," Jonghyun sat up straight, pulling Jinki onto his lap. "And you?" he added, courteously, raising his eyebrows, before Jinki leaned forward impatiently and crashed their mouths together. Jinki felt Jonghyun's laughter ringing into his own mouth, and closed his eyes, tugging at the neck of Jonghyun's shirt.

"I'm good," he gasped, when they pulled apart. "I'm - I'm -" he leaned his forehead against Jonghyun's, breathing hard, "I'm awesome."

"Mhm?" Jonghyun didn't have a chance to say much else - Jinki's hands crept under his shirt, nails grazing lightly across his stomach. Jinki gave him a little smile, looking at him from beneath his lashes. Jonghyun grabbed his face again, trying to drown out the sounds rising to his throat. They tumbled out against Jinki's tongue anyway, what with one hand over his briefs, and the other still ghosting over his stomach.

It was as if Jinki was bringing about a wordless, sustained explosion against his senses, every inch of his skin singed with a sudden realization of heat and the ripple of skin over skin.

"Hi," Jinki kept murmuring against his teeth, quietly, like so many soft little promises of I don't want to ever hurt you.

Jonghyun's legs closed together around Jinki's back, unfolded and folded and straightened out, back arching brokenly. His heart hammered and sought for comfort and weight and warmth and more warmth, heat that would incinerate and spread through his lungs and explode. "I've missed you like this," Jinki whispered, thickly, and he choked on Jinki's name, one hand pulling him closer, the other pushing him down. Jinki smiled again. Jonghyun rolled his head back, thunking it against the glass. Part of a pane broke with a grating /chink/ and fell to the hungry water in the streets below. The rest of the glass creaked ominously.

"We're going to fall," Jonghyun gasped out, but neither of them really cared. Jinki pulled up his knee between Jonghyun's thighs. "Come on, Hyunnie," he said, voice lowered to a throaty purr, and the rain let out a fine spray over them through the broken glass.

It was molten, metal or lava or rock he couldn't tell, couldn't bother recalling from science classes, didn't care about, but it was liquid and sticky and searing hot, every inch, every goosebump on their bodies, the feeling, the look in Jinki's eyes. Jinki's hands gripped him tightly as Jonghyun slid closer and ground down on him, as earthquakes shattered and remoulded their balance a million times a second. There was a flurry of words, of do-you-like-its and God-don't-stops, of fingers and sweat and water falling on them heavily. The panes groaned under their weight. They linked hands and Jinki squeezed his eyes shut, biting into Jonghyun's shoulder. "Hey," Jonghyun whispered, shakily. "What d'you see?"

"'m falling," Jinki's voice was trembling with effort. "Falling, and you're everywhere."

Jonghyun smiled and closed his eyes.

It was lava, probably, swirling everywhere, thundering and spiking across his stomach, raging out in a wave from his ears to his lungs to his legs. His back was arching, and his throat contracted, doubled in on itself. For a moment he couldn't breathe, and then Jinki's lips brushed his ear. His vision suddenly became embossed over in stone, and they collapsed.

The floorboards underneath squealed in protest, so they rolled over, damp with perspiration.

"How fast is your heart beating?" Jinki asked, panting still.

"Dunno. Pretty fast."

"Hmm." Jinki rolled over again, so he lay on his stomach. He turned his face sideways to look at Jonghyun. Idly, he ran a finger down the other's forehead, up his nose and down his chin, over his neck, pausing at his heart.

"You look beautiful," he mumured, drowsily.

Jonghyun found himself falling asleep to Jinki's measured breaths and the warm hand that now lay at his ribs. "You know," he muttered thickly. "Trying is a lot stronger than being. It's a lot more important. Babies, you know... you said they have to try to... breathe and." He fell short of breath and fell silent, a delicious snugness enveloping his brain. "And if they don't," he drawled, after a minute or so, "They die. But if they do, then they don't."

He squirmed, and inched slightly closer to Jinki's sleeping form. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, that the baby's existence depends on him struggling for that first braeth. Now, you wouldn't say..." he trailed off once more, busy tucking Jinki's hair behind his ear. He stared at the calm, sweaty face with a small smile. "You wouldn't say," he repeated, words slurring together, "That the baby is playing at living. The baby is actually, y'know, probably living more than he ever will, again, you know, and struggling for it. For, like, getting a life. Whatever." He yawned again, overwhelmingly tired.

"Don't even know if I'm sensing, man." He paused. "Wait, I meant making sense, not sensing. Goddamn." He closed his eyes, and sank comfortably into darkness. "So, basically, trying to be men equates at least half of being men, at this stage, in our circumstances. And try harder is - I mean, trying is harder, in some ass specks. Crap, aspects." He pulled Jinki closer and burrowed his head under his arm.

Jinki mumbled something and held him protectively. "Mm," Jonghyun mumbled, happily, then struggled to continue talking. "Trying's harder because there's this thing called transition, like adapting. I don't know if I'm using these words properly, God. When you be, then you be, and you grow soft and silly with just being. But when you keep tryin' 'o change, that's hard. That's tough. Strong, okay? You're strong. We're strong." He sighed, slinging an arm around Jinki's waist. "'m proud of you."

Then all his strength seemed to sap out, his shoulders sagged, and he fell quickly to sleep.

___

The rain was very soft the next day, barely there. Jinki called it a 'drizzle'. He also called Jonghyun 'jagi' at least three times an hour. By midday, Jonghyun was perpetually stuck at a shade of dusky pink. "Pretty," Jinki teased, and insisted on feeding him lunch (half a biscuit, a two tablespoons of fried rice, and very, very dilute tea).

After lunch, Kibum and Taemin decided to go out in the rain. Minho chose to stay in, and Jinki made his way up with the metal box to the roof. "Want to come?" he asked. Minho said he was sleepy, but Jonghyun agreed.

"What're you going to do with this thing?"

Jinki shrugged. "Listen to news and events, as usual. Sometimes they talk about the people here, too, and I want to hear what they have to say, you know?"

The effort needed to reach the roof was so much, it was 'blasphemous', Jonghyun whined, after climbing to the eleventh floor. "Just two more floors," Jinki coaxed. "Then when we go down we can slide on the railings. Besides, we went up this way yesterday! What's up?"

Jonghyun honestly didn't know himself. Maybe it was a smell, but somehow he was sure that wasn't it. Something was going terribly wrong, he was convinced. "Gut," he mumbled, dismissively, and pressed on.

The trapdoor to the roof was in the ceiling of the attic. The lock was so rusted that it would be impossible to unlock. Jinki stared at it unhappily, arms folded across his chest. Jonghyun picked up a loose bolt on the floor and knocked it against the metal. Both pieces crumbled at once. He laughed at the look of shock on Jinki's face.

"I - wow. I just. Okay!" Jinki gaped. "I wasn't expecting that, okay."

Jonghyun climbed up first, on Jinki's shoulders, then pulled Jinki up. They say on the edge of the trapdoor, legs dangling into the attic below, frowning at each other. "Is something off?" Jinki mumbled, staring around.

Jonghyun cocked his head, then stared at the sky. It was clear, an uplifting blue. Nothing fell down from it to meet him. "No rain!" he yelled, and ran about, waving his arms madly in the air. He slipped on the slanted glass and almost fell. Jinki grabbed a hold of him and glared.

"Idiot."

"Sorry," Jonghyun mumbled, but was soon running again. "No rain," he repeated, and a small sound came from below. Jinki and Jonghyun leaned over the low wall. Two little figures jumped about at the front of the building. "Hey," Taemin yelled, cupping his hands over his mouth, and Kibum waved wildly.

"No rain!" Jonghyun called, and Kibum shouted something incoherently back. Then the two made to go inside.

"Roads are still flooded," Jinki said, setting up the radio. Shrill static yoddled into their hearing. "I guess it's a good thing there's no rain," he added, a little later. There was no mistaking the regret in his voice. "Otherwise, I mightn't be able to fix this up."

Jonghyun ambled over and sat beside him. The static lowered to a whisper. "You really like rain, don't you?" he asked, eventually.

Jinki raised his head from the controls. It was such a complicated thing, the radio. And Jinki was complicated, too. "Learned about it in fifth grade, the day you decided to leave school. Guess that's the reason I never really forgot it? And I've always... wanted it to happen, anyhow. God giving us a shower, 'cause He cared about us. And stuff," he smiled, a little wistfully, then bent his head again. "You don't like it that much, though, do you?"

Jonghyun looked up at the sky again. The sun was a vague white circle behind the curtain of blue. "I was getting used to it, and then it stopped."

Another voice spoke, accent as clipped as that woman's, who dragged him to his room when he was seven. But this voice was a young man's. "We are expecting clear skies from Monday to Wednesday, a steady temperature of ninety degrees Fahrenheit throughout the week, and light rainfall again next week." The static crept into the words and muffled the voice completely.

Jinki made an exasperated sound and shook the radio. "Kim Joonmyun. Now onto Today In Progress." There was an interval of scratchy music.

Jonghyun looked up sharply. "Joonmyun? Wasn't that - ?"

"No," Jinki shook his head. "The kid was Jongin. And anyway, he'd be around Taemin's age by now. They don't set anyone to work 'til nineteen."

"Wasn't it eighteen?"

"Nah, that was a few years ago. Their side's improved, since then." Jinki shifted uncomfortably, and Jonghyun felt little itchy pinpricks of heat on his own back. "It has, has it?" he murmured, staring at the other buildings. "Fat lot of good it's done to us."

The music stopped, and another voice started talking. The sound kept fading in and out, and they only caught snatches of what was being said. No matter which way Jinki turned the dial, or however many buttons he pressed, there was no difference. Jinki looked worried. "The receiver's gone bad, maybe? Or the signals are bad here."

The sun beat down with its usual strength, now, and Jonghyun followed a trickle of sweat fall from Jinki's temple, straight to his shoulder, with his eye. They stayed still for a few minutes, air thickening with humidity and solidifying on their shoulders, like a heavy weight.

Jonghyun closed his eyes and thought of when he was ten. He hugged his knees. "Remember when you first found it? You'd gone out salvaging and brought back a ton of clothes - and this." He opened his eyes and tapped the aerial affectionately. It gave a sharp twang, beginning to oscillate. "Some song was playing when you turned it on. It was nice, man. Wish we could listen to music more."

Jinki nodded, mouth in an absent-minded pout. He leaned back on his elbows.

"But, like," Jonghyun stretched his legs, "The song was loud. And we listened to it right here, you know, give or take a few feet. So it's probably the receiver that's bad."

"The band had something to do with jumpsuits, didn't it?" Jinki stared upwards, squinting against the sun.

"Yeah, red jumpsuits."

"One day," Jinki promised, "We'll listen to it again."

Jonghyun smiled at him, sideways, eyes crinkling crookedly.

The dark circles under Jinki's creased upwards in reply.

The moment stilled, Jonghyun's heart beat twice, thrice, and then words broke in and shattered over them in a delicate voice.

"The government's rainfall experiments seems to have gone better than expected! But with so much precipitation all of a sudden, with barely any warning to the poverty-stricken areas of the country, then, surely, there must be some drawbacks - some, you could say, negative effects?"

They froze, stunned.

Another voice joined the first. There was embarrassed throat-clearing, and then, "Well, that is something we're not exactly sure of. Every human has its pride, you know - " a nervous laugh " - and since our relations have been rather rocky in the past decade and a half or so, we don't really know how they're doing."

An awkward pause, then more laughter. "They're always like this," Jinki hissed. "First driving us away, and now this? Rocky relations? What did they expect? Barely any warning! We had none!"

"But - " Jonghyun broke in, before the voices started again.

The girl spoke. "True! But it does seem that pretty much all civilians were treated equally in this case - although I said earlier that the poorer citizens had barely any warning, the truth is, I doubt even most aristocrats knew. I, at least, had no idea! Was this a cabinet secret, or something of the sort?"

Jinki frowned. "This sounds so odd. A botched up job."

The man stammered a little. "A-Ah, well, I wouldn't call it a cabinet secret, as much as a joint parliament and military one. It is true that many civilians had no... no idea that this would occur, but, ah, to be completely honest with the public, although we had been working on this for some time, we did not expect it to be... to be realized, so soon. It was kind of an accident."

"That's an important senator," Jinki whispered. "And like all the rest of them, he's probably lying through his teeth."

Jonghyun ran a hand through his hair. "Is anyone honest?"

"Not at the top."

The girl had put forward another point. "If only the political side of the country's leaders knew this, then it means that other important sectors of our country's economy and such, did not know this, am I correct?"

Jinki bit his lip. "She's cornering him to a point, but it might be all scripted anyway."

The senator acceded. Instinctively, Jinki moved closer to Jonghyun. "I don't want to hear," he shook his head, vehemently, but grabbed his hand when Jonghyun made to turn the dial. "No, no no no."

"So," the fresh voice needled, "The media companies weren't prepared for this?"

"No."

"No," Jinki swallowed. Bewildered, Jonghyun held him close.

"I see. Sir, I hope you don't mind - but I, uh, actually have a list here, and I just want to check off - precisely, you know - which sectors were and were not aware."

"Yes, of course." A hint of nervousness touched those words.

"Right, then. So, academics sector?"

"No knowledge, and most institutions persisted throughout. Some universities, however, gave students a weather break."

"This was the first weather break executed due to cold weather, wasn't it?" she laughed. Jonghyun felt irritated.

"It was indeed, yes."

"And the research departments? The various outlying meteorology and medical establishments across the country?"

"Unaware."

"Sir, whoever devised this experiment, the group of scientists who worked on this - were they also unaware that this could, how shall we say - show positive results too early?"

"They did not tell us that any such thing could happen. We were informed that it could backfire, but that was all."

She inquired his meaning to backfiring. Still Jinki stared at the radio, terrified. "It's no good," he croaked, throat dry. "It was never any good. Idiot, I was a shithead. That's it, that's it. No no don't turn it off," he pleaded Jonghyun, and snatched the radio away.

At once, the static melted over the voices and crackled painfully loud. Jinki clapped his hands over his ears, trembling. He offered no resistance when Jonghyun gently pulled him away.

"You know too much," Jonghyun tried to make light of it. "Like as not, whatever you're thinking in your head could only happen in another dimension." Jinki only pressed closer, not saying a word. Jonghyun tried again. "Or if whatever you're thinking is possible, then it probably already happened in the past. But if we're alive now," he prattled, breathlessly, "Then even if history repeats itself, like you're always saying, it'll be fine because we're here and living proof that the past survived. Right?"

Jinki just blinked.

"Okay, well, I'll go down first, then I'll pull your legs. Okay? Don't get scared." In truth, Jonghyun was scared, himself. Jinki had never been like this before. He'd always shouldered bad news best among all of them. Jonghyun didn't even know how to help - he had no idea why Jinki'd gotten so shaken up.

Think, he told himself, furiously. Think. He let himself down through the trapdoor and tugged at Jinki's knees. The older boy slid down obediently, landing with a thud. "Okay, bud," Jonghyun threw an arm around his shoulders, feigning cheerfulness. "Down the bannisters we slide."

Jinki made no sign of complaining, or protesting that they'd left the radio out on the roof. Quietly, he followed Jonghyun out the attic, and they took turns sliding down, floor by floor.

The closer they approached their landing, the louder the others' shouts became. They seemed to rouse Jinki, and as he had Jonghyun finally stepped on the fifth floor, he shook his head slowly. "Whole other world up," he mumbled. "Was kind of scary."

Jonghyun gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"I'll try and get that song," Jinki told him, seriously, and it was only when they'd all settled down to sleep, hours later, that Jonghyun understood what he'd said.

___

The heat was so great that the water levels sunk quickly: where a few days ago they had to wade thigh-deep, now little rippled lapped meekly around their ankles.

Kibum had fully recovered. They didn't have much to celebrate, or treat him with, but Jinki managed to tune into a music station, and they danced to polka for the greater part of the day.

The weather break over, Jinki made his way to campus in the evenings, amidst complaints and attempts at bargains to keep him in. Jonghyun saw him daily to the ground floor. "One day," Jinki started, on the third day, then stopped. He leaned his head against the wall, hesitant to take a step forward. "One day, I'll be able to get a house for all of us, you know. And we'll be able to have lots of company and people over, and someone for Taemin so he can get a girlfriend like he's always dreaming of. You know? You don't just get a house of the blue," he sighed, and sat down on the floor suddenly. "You work for it. You work for money, and honest food, and a proper address. I want..." Jinki trailed off.

"I want you all to be happy, get what you want. I want Kibum to get his easel and Minho to get a workshop, with gear and accessories and a whole line of customers with their cars. I want Taemin to get proper hair dye - not spray paint cans like we did - and a purpose in life. He cries, you know. He feels so useless and I want him to know that he isn't, but he'll never listen. When do kids listen? When did we listen? Do we listen now?"

"Who's there to listen to?" Jonghyun whispered, and rested a hand on Jinki's head.

"I want to have a house for you," Jinki said, thickly. "And a bed with a mattress, so your back stops hurting, and a computer, or at least books, so you can try your hand at writing, again."

"Every single person in this district, Jonghyun, I want every single person brought to justice. I'm going to get us somewhere, somehow." And yet Jinki blinked distractedly throughout, as if unsure of something, as though there was a piece to some jigsaw that was either lost or didn't fit as he'd thought it would. He frowned at his shoes and cleared his throat, getting up.

"You will," Jonghyun said, quietly, and clasped his hand.

Jinki looked at him, trying desperately to believe him, and chewed his lip, walking out the glass door.

___

The light that trickled through the curtains hesitantly informed him that it was probably four in the morning. Jonghyun frowned sleepily, shivering in the sudden cold. What had he woken up? No one else stirred. He glanced at Jinki's bed (empty), and let out an exasperated groan. Struggling momentarily with the tangled sheets, he padded quietly past the mats.

Then he stopped. Jinki could have gone either down or up. He stepped back in, and looked sharply about. Jinki's bag hung on a hook next to the shelf, but the radio was missing from its place. Jonghyun resigned himself to the roof.

Indignant from his lack of sleep, he opened his mouth the second he spotted Jinki on the far side of the landing, huddled next to the radio. Ready to spew a lecture on morals and letting sleeping dogs lie even though he wasn't a dog - and neither, if it came to that, were Minho and Kibum and Taemin, but they could be treated as dead logs, considering how they barely ever stirred, but that was besides the point, because the point couldn't Jinki, the confounded Neanderthal see, was that there was no reason on earth for him to always have his thoughtful fits at four in the morning, and wake Jonghyun, who had never purposely harmed a hair on his head - except for when they were twelve, and, well, Jinki was being a prude and not letting him spray paint his hair because of bald patches or something at seventy - whenever he did so, besides. But he heard the radio, blasting out hurried music and a man's voice boasting 'News Flash', which then echoed and re-echoed. So Jonghyun closed his mouth, warily.

Jinki raised his head, slowly, as if it were a weight, and stared at him. Jonghyun didn't know what the stare was. It could have been blank, or weary, or thoughtful, or searching, or worried, or hostile - he had no idea which. Then Jinki blinked, and rested his head on his arms again.

"The well-known rainfall having obliterated most of the low-lying parts of the country," a smooth voice pronounced every word carefully. "Although supply from farms was thought to be blocked due to road blockage, it has been found that most of the farms have, also, been flooded. Crops and soil are damaged, and animals escaped. Reports say that stampedes had occurred days prior to the first day of rainfall that South Korea has seen in more than forty years. The effect of this on the rest of the country's economy and population will, incidentally, be discussed on Kim Talks, at twelve fifteen p.m., today."

Jonghyun vaguely realized that he had somehow fallen to his knees. Jinki's shoulders were shaking, his head still resting on his arms.

"In other news, five more bodies have been found dead in the eastern region, and twenty injured, bringing the total casualty count to two thousand and fifty eight.

"The government has decided to suspend elections until June, and the country, sources say, may very well be on the verge of martial law, under emergency. This is due, mainly, to the rioters that have started looting and burning small branches of chain stores down at the capital, and their activities are predicted to spread quickly throughout the province.

"And that is all for now. This has been the four fifteen news break, our next news break will be at six fifteen, followed by This Day in History from six thirty to seven thirty..."

"Jonghyun," Jinki called, urgently. His vision was shaking. Something strong had hold of his shoulders.

"Th-this," he managed, and Jinki's face was blurred. Was he crying? Why couldn't he see properly? "You were worried about this." His throat was dry, he hung limp in Jinki's hands. It was difficult to breathe.

"Hey," Jinki whispered. "Don't, don't." He shifted so that his arm was around Jonghyun's waist, supporting him, and sat down next to him. They stayed like that, silently, and Jonghyun hit Jinki's shoulder with his head. "This wasn't supposed to happen," he squeezed his eyes shut. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

The wind whipped around them, flapping through their pyjamas and ruffling their hair, freezing the spaces between
them. Jonghyun shivered, and Jinki held him tighter.

"Jinki," he said.

"Yes?"

"Just... I just like your name."

"I like your name, too."

"Jinki?"

"Are we going to die?"

"I don't know." (Jonghyun felt Jinki's pulse sky rocket against his wrist.)

"Okay."

He closed his eyes, and felt Jinki press his thumbs along his forehead, pressure evening out over his skull. "Thanks," he mumbled, and his breathing slowed. If only he could run away forever from the world. Did other people experience this? Did they experience this? Population, they had said. And the farms shutting down... No food.

Jinki's thumbs ceased all thoughts. It felt good. It was the only nice thing at the moment. He could sleep. Sleep would solve everything. Everything would go away, like it needed to do. Everything needed to go away.

Reality shuffled quietly away, and he slept fitfully, the sun climbing up his back with comforting, dawn warmth.

When he woke, his neck was sore from some wrong angle, and his perception was all wrong. He opened his eyes and screamed silently, sure he would fall into the sky any second. Then he caught sight of Jinki's face. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open, tiny snored sounding out from time to time. He shut his eyes, went back to sleep.

He woke again, some time later, the sun no longer comforting, the ground under his stomach (he was sleeping on his stomach?) was, somehow, Jinki's back. Jinki himself was awake, listening closely to the radio.

The radio.

Jonghyun's eyes widened, and he stumbled to his feet and away from Jinki.

"Jonghyun?" Jinki asked, and Jonghyun vomited. The bile tasted bitter and seared at his throat. He choked on the fluid, hot tears forcing themselves out of his eyes. He felt a reassuring on his back, another holding his head, carefully.

He finished up on his knees, arms and legs trembling. Jinki wiped his mouth and made him lie down on the other end of the roof.

"Jinki," Jonghyun shouted, syllables melting into one another with exhaustion, "Turn up the voice. Make it louder. Want to hear."

Jinki hesitated.

"Jinki," he yelled.

"It won't make you feel better."

"Don't care. Look at me. Do I look like I care? No. Turn it up." He saw stars, black stars and ugly, dirty yellow neon stars. "Please."

Jinki didn't say anything as he turned the dial completely around. This time the voice was thick, friendly. Jonghyun heard it in the middle of a laugh.

"But no, really," it said. "All puns aside, is it true, then, the news that has been spreading across the nation like wildfire?"

"Most definitely," a second voice supplied. "In fact, the resources are so low that we, as a complete parliament, have unanimously voted for the opting out of government trucks from food depots. Most of the civilians who rely on them have, regretfully, shown little or no signs of recovery. A handful of the students have been picked - " here Jinki tugged at his hair " - to transfer, but otherwise, we do not see further use in providing food that will probably not even be received."

Jonghyun shut his eyes once more. Times were hard, he remembered thinking. Now there was no hope. No hope at all.

___

When he opened his eyes, he was lying on a mat. Taemin was sitting at his feet, blinking hard at the wall opposite. Minho and Kibum were not in the room. Jinki was gone as well.

Was it a dream?

"Hey," he waved his fingers.

Taemin started. "Hyung! You okay? You feeling better? I have some milk, I saved it! Jinki said you vomited, like, a crap ton."

So it wasn't a dream. "Keep the milk," he shook his head, voice cracking obscenely and coming out three octaves higher than normal. "I just want to sleep."

"We're all going to die," Taemin said, and Jonghyun's eyes flew open wide.

"How...?" he rasped.

"Trucks left. For good. They took all their equipment and everything. I went with Minho, we asked the guards. They spat at us, that's all. And these past few days, Jinki was so closed up, and then you were, too. You guys kept disappearing, with the radio, and you were never happy, when you came back," Taemin sighed, and drew up his legs. "I'm not dumb. Here we are, trying to survive, celebrating if one of us so much as recovers from a fever, and then suddenly the ones who smiled the most," Taemin stared at him from over his knees. "Cried themselves to sleep. Or didn't sleep," he added, with a glance at Jinki's mat, neatly rolled up, a pillow placed on top.

"Did you sleep?" Jonghyun commented at length, shocked.

"A little," he got in reply. "More than enough. Now here, have some milk."

Jonghyun coughed most of it up, violently, but he smiled back at Taemin, anyway.

"I'm sorry for bossing you around," he confessed awkwardly, after some heavy silence.

Taemin, rifling through the contents of Jinki's bag, looked up. "Nonsense," he said, coolly, kicking his legs against the floor. He'd always been restless. "If you didn't, I'd be terrible."

"Still," Jonghyun whispered, and closed his eyes again.

He didn't wake up next time, not properly. He opened his eyes, and saw a great big wall, curling and twisting and jumping. It moved forward, to dance over him and crush him, and he gave a yell. Something dragged him out of the way, and he had a curious feeling that Taemin was walking beside him, holding his hand. He was being lead into darkness. "That's the Great Wall of China," Kibum's voice boomed into his hearing, and he slept again.

He woke up and saw Taemin sitting beside him, smiling tremulously. "Hold it," he said, and forced something into his hand. The smile was so familiar and sad. "You sure you're not her son?" he shouted, loudly, because when he tried to talk normally, no one seemed to hear. "Son?" Taemin's smile faded, no longer familiar. "Whose son? Hyung?"

Jonghyun frowned, squeezed the bar in his hand. That was what it was, right? A bar? A spraying sound resounded around and inside his head, he gave a yelp and all the lights in the world flickered off.

He was being carried on someone's back. A broad, friendly back that he had memorized. He knew the knobbly little bumps that made up the spine, he knew the shoulder blades, the skin stretched scantily over them, the marks on the neck, he knew everything but the name. "Hello?" he croaked, and the back stopped moving. Other figures came into view, and their names rose to his tongue before he could think.

"Minho," he groaned, with effort. "Kibum, Taemin." Speaking taxed too much on his strength. He buried his head in the hair in front, and the smell of cold, clear water and burn sugar slipped shyly into his senses. "Jinki?" he mumbled, and wanted to cry. His lungs hurt so, so much. There was an answering pat on his knee, where a hand that Jonghyun remembered had been much chubbier once, held it in place.

"It's me," said a familiar voice, and Jonghyun wanted to cry, again. His lungs hurt even more.

And then many wet, soft little fingers threaded through his hair, like a time he recalled before, a time that seemed ages ago.

"Rain!" Taemin yelled. Jonghyun paid no heed. He was tired.

The last thing Jonghyun remembered was sitting up against a tree, which was odd because most of the trees has been uprooted. A head of shocking red hair lay on his lap, two figures sat at his feet, and someone sat next to him, holding his hand.

Taemin's voice was coming from underneath the red hair. Wonderingly, Jonghyun pushed the hair softly away. Taemin's eyes were closed,his mouth was moving. Jonghyun strained to listen.

"It's like that boy, Peter Pan, that Jinki told us all about when we were younger," he was saying. "He stayed young forever, and said death was just an adventure. Isn't it fascinating?" Taemin's eyes opened and he sighed. They all sighed. "He went through so many adventures, and came out of them alive, fought with that pirate and his littler pirates, and all. But still, death was another adventure. And it was the biggest of all, because you can't come alive out of it. You're caught up in it for the rest of forever."

"The next big adventure," Jinki corrected, gently, and Jonghyun leaned his head on that shoulder, world spinning although he only sat still. "Exactly," Taemin said. "The next big adventure."

Jinki wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and Minho and Kibum came to sit on Jonghyun's other side. Taemin stretched an arm.

"What're you doing?" Kibum mumbled, his leg over both of Minho's.

"Saluting the sky."

The rain fell down on them again, and Jonghyun gave a soft laugh.

"I finally like it," he said. "Finally like the rain."

"Still haven't listened to that song. 'm sorry," Jinki apologized, feebly squeezing his hand.

"Oh, come on," Jonghyun shrugged. "There's time enough."

An hour later, or maybe a day or a week, Jinki whispered in his ear. "I love you."

Wake up you sleepy head,
Put on some clothes, shake up your bed.
Put another log on the fire for me.

a/n: this was going to be alternatively titled 'that crappy fic with rain and bad sex in the middle' but oh well my ego won't stoop that low