To treasure gold is fun (2/2)
Their hands were clasped as the sky came alive.
<<
“How has nobody else recognised you yet? You’re constantly around.”
Baekhyun sighed, not looking away from the tea set he was laying out. He’d known that Park Chanyeol was going to be on the airship, as a member of the board that had gathered to have their conference. He’d just hoped he’d be able to board the ship, accomplish his task, and disembark without having to encounter the man.
“Nobody notices a waiter.” What was the man doing in this lounge anyway?
“I didn’t know people from our sect were involved in political scandals.”
Baekhyun picked up the tray and turned to face Chanyeol. It struck him again, how handsome the other man was, pulling off the long coat and suit like he was born to model it on a runway. He was so handsome it hurt to look at him - a physical reminder of how far removed he was from Baekhyun’s world.
He took a deep breath. “Can I help you? Would you like some more tea?”
“No. I would like a word with you.”
“I’m afraid I’m still on duty. I have to attend to the meeting upstairs.” Baekhyun moved to exit, but Chanyeol blocked him.
“Nobody in that meeting could be of interest to you. They’re all decent people. The ones you’re after are in their rooms, they won’t be getting out till we convene tomorrow. And I’m sure you have them both bugged anyway.”
Baekhyun set the tray down, and looked up resignedly. Chanyeol strode over to the door and bolted it.
“Nobody’s going to come in here,” Baekhyun said dully. “Please make this quick.”
“Fine.” Chanyeol’s tone shifted abruptly in that unnerving way of his - the same way his expressions seemed to flick from good to bad in a millisecond. “Are you here to compromise our expedition?”
Baekhyun regarded the man standing before him. “Classified,” he said finally.
“Work with me, Baekhyun. We both know that I have every means to give your game away.”
His condescending tone grated on Baekhyun’s nerves.
“Who would you give me away to, though, Mr Park?” he challenged. He took a step forward, till he was face-to-face with Chanyeol, not caring that he had to tilt his head at a ridiculous angle to keep glaring at him. “The division? The people I’m monitoring? You’d do that, at the expense of your country’s stability?”
A beat of silence. When Chanyeol spoke again, his tone was icy.
“Both. I’d first inform the people you were monitoring, and then I would file a report to the division that you’d failed in your tasks and alerted the people you set out to thwart. As for my country, I honestly wouldn’t give a fuck if it burned to the ground.”
Baekhyun wanted to stare the man down, but he couldn’t do it. Hot tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. He wouldn’t let this asshole, wouldn’t let his one moment of weakness ruin everything for him. He’d done an excellent job of remaining low-profile with everyone else he’d met. He was close - so painfully close - to wrapping this up for good.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” Baekhyun said calmly. “I’ll take you to the headquarters myself if I have to.” The worst they could do would be to cut his pay. Right?
“You actually think they’d wipe me? They’d sooner fire you and lock you up.”
“Names mean nothing where national security is concerned. I’m willing to take the risk.”
The other man abruptly grabbed hold of his shoulders, his grip tight as though he was trying to squeeze the life force out of him. “Byun Baekhyun. Do not do anything to sabotage this expedition. This is my whole life. My whole life - god, do you understand?”
“It’s my whole life too.” Baekhyun was aware that a tear was making its way down his face, but he kept composure.
“Shit, are you crying?” Chanyeol sounded genuinely shocked as he stared at Baekhyun’s face.
“Let go.” Baekhyun forcefully shoved Chanyeol’s arms back and turned away. The next moment, he was grabbed and enveloped in a bone-crushing hug.
“Sorry,” Chanyeol said quietly. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”
Baekhyun knew he should’ve pushed the man away immediately, knocked him out and dragged his sorry ass straight to headquarters the moment the zeppelin landed. But all he could do was stand there, leaning on the man’s shoulder, letting his long held-in tears fall.
This was supposed to have been a simple job. Baekhyun had thought he could do it. Just one year living in the shadows, sneaking around and spying on people, and then he’d have money to do what he really wanted. Easy. But it was an incredibly lonely life - he had no one at all. And then this guy had come in and complicated things further, messing with his emotions and then running off to hide behind problems of his own.
“I’m not good at expressing myself,” Chanyeol said finally. “So I generally try not to. And I know I’m a mess. I can’t control my behaviour - especially around you. But I mean it when I say that I don’t want any harm to come to you. Ever. As much as I need to go on this expedition.”
Baekhyun understood what he was saying, could feel his desperation. “You … you can do something about it. The team leader - Sooyoung - she’s clear. The planners - the ones who proposed this - aren’t having their motives investigated either. You can find people to replace the ones who will be lost.”
Chanyeol exhaled sharply. “That’s all I needed to hear.” He pulled away. “Please come with me for a bit, I need to talk to you.”
***
They were seated in Chanyeol’s cabin, at the bow of the ship.
“I owe you an explanation for my behaviour,” Chanyeol began. “People call me an asshole. I guess they’re right, I’m not nice, because I never had anything to live for - kind of like yourself, except that instead of singing I had only my dreams of exploration. I was reckless in all my personal relationships because none of them really mattered to me, none of them would last once I left. I did to you exactly what I’d always done. I called you up, asked you out, with no plans of commitment. But when I realised that I was actually feeling something real, I became more antagonistic than usual. You probably could tell. Of course I wanted to show Junmyeon up, I can’t help that, but I’m really sorry that I treated you how I did. I caused you pain, and I feel incredibly guilty about it. You never deserve to be treated badly.”
“Neither do any of the others you’ve hurt,” Baekhyun remarked drily. Chanyeol rolled his eyes, and Baekhyun softened his tone. “But I accept your apology. I know you reacted like that because you’re hurting too.”
“I owe you a clarification as well. You probably think I lied whenever I talked about myself. What I told you, about wanting to be a singer, it was the truth. They - the covert division - picked me up because I was an orphan, alone in the world. Nobody knew me, nobody would miss me if anything happened to me during the mission. I signed a contract with them, and they promised me the money and connections I’d need.”
“And you believed them?”
“Not like I had a choice.” Baekhyun shrugged. “But yeah, I believe them. It might sound ridiculous, but I like to believe the best in people. In spite of everything.”
“I wasn’t sure about you when you showed up at the wedding,” Chanyeol admitted. “Something about you was so transient, like you knew you were leaving for somewhere. But I honestly hadn’t a clue about Junmyeon. Your cover story about being his bartender was actually quite believable, I wouldn’t have expected a spy to be walking around in plain sight at a social event.”
Baekhyun laughed. “I’ve infiltrated quite a few events. The upper castes just don’t take notice of me. Little to no real disguise is needed there. It’s tougher when I deal at casinos, where I have to worry about people picking a fight.”
“I took notice of you. Even if you hadn’t come looking for me at the pool, I’d have found a way to approach you sooner or later.”
Baekhyun smiled softly. “You did, anyway.”
“And what you said the other time, when you called me a coward … you were right.” He stopped, clearly struggling to let his guard down. “You made me realise that boldness and bravery are very different things. I wasn’t always this way - I could be generous and giving, but I was always timid at heart, scared of rejection and failure. I was never courageous.”
“It’s alright. You’re making progress.”
“Yeah. I can finally admit to myself that I care for you - deeply. And I want to be by your side, as much as I can.”
“The short time we have might not count for much, but while we’re both here, I’ll stay.”
They spent the night together, in the confines of the small cabin. Baekhyun gave himself up to his senses, stopped resisting, allowed himself to feel each emotion as keenly as it hit him.
“Where are you going after this? Once the ship lands?” Chanyeol breathed out as they lay side by side, slipping in and out of consciousness. The ship was rocking gently, lulling them into slumber.
Baekhyun thought of what he could tell. “I’m going to perform at the state ceremony in a few days, I’m being summoned to make a report there, right after I perform.”
“I’ll be there.”
And so Baekhyun lay next to Chanyeol, for the second time. Chanyeol fell asleep quickly, his chest rising and falling as he breathed quietly. The man’s brow was furrowed, betraying deeply-buried pain and stress that he usually kept his countenance well clear of.
I will love you tonight
and I will stay by your side
Baekhyun tried to focus on every moment of this - every moment of Chanyeol’s warmth pressing comfortingly into his side, breathing in his fresh, cool scent, the warmth deep in his heart - and did his best to forget about the coming morning, when he would inevitably have to slip out of the room and out of Chanyeol’s life.
I want to touch you but the night becomes the day
I count the words that I am never going to say,
and I see you
In midnight blue.
The arena was full, tens of thousands of people gathered for a celebration of art and the power of the state.
A man was standing on a raised cylindrical platform, high above the massive stadium, enveloped by a gentle halo of light. Behind him, a giant screen, a cluster of a billion organic light-emitting diodes, played a flickering sepia montage.
Chanyeol sat facing the stage head-on, though a mile away from its platform. The opening act was about to begin, and the performer was Baekhyun. Byun Baekhyun - his small figure clothed simply in a loose white shirt and black pants, a sweep of black hair framing his delicate pale face. As the music started up, a sombre piano and rousing orchestra, his eyelids fluttered shut.
His voice spilled out, starting out quiet yet filling the entire stadium. The sky was clear that night, yet in Chanyeol’s mind he could see the rain falling over his shoulders, drenching the man. He didn’t know how long Baekhyun sang for. It could’ve been a few minutes, it could’ve been half an hour. His concept of time was no longer solid.
His voice, that beautiful husky tenor, surged as the music roused to its climax. Chanyeol watched, feeling an acute ache deep inside that he couldn’t explain. He had never seen anything like it. And as he stared up the man standing up on the platform, every part the heartbroken angel, he knew. The mission was complete. This stage was the cover-up for his approaching wipe and the career that would follow. Baekhyun was leaving.
Yet he’d been captivated, heart, mind and soul.
The state of complete entrancement lasted right until the lights dimmed and Baekhyun’s circular platform sank below the stage and disappeared from vision.
Before the next act could be announced, Chanyeol was already striding out of the arena and towards the stage door. He shoved his namecard at a startled security guard, pushing his way through several choirs and and orchestra before he found it. A frosted glass door labelled with the name “Byun Baekhyun”. Chanyeol pushed down the handle and walked right in, searching. Baekhyun was nowhere to be found. The room was functional, sparse. A camera on the far wall and another above the door.
Someone stepped into the room, and Chanyeol spun around. Baekhyun stood there alone, still attired in his loose white shirt, his face still painted with foundation. He didn’t look at all surprised to see Chanyeol. He opened his mouth to speak, but Chanyeol was already striding across the room to cup his face in his hands and seal their lips together. He raked his hands through Baekhyun’s soft black hair, letting the waves tumble between his fingers, caressing the soft skin of his neck as his lips moved desperately over Baekhyun’s. He couldn’t believe that Baekhyun was right here, in his arms. He didn’t have words to articulate the pain he was feeling, the pain that was stabbing right through his heart.
When they pulled apart, Baekhyun’s stance was resigned. “You said your time here was dwindling, but I guess mine ran out first.”
Chanyeol shook his head. “No. We’ll meet again. You can’t just leave like that.”
“You know I can’t meet people in public.”
Chanyeol’s mind raced. Missions, reports, grace periods, wipes. “The Zygomas will be open in three days. Meet me there. You can do that, can’t you?” Aborted reports. Task extensions. “No. You can postpone the report. Please. I’m leaving in two weeks. Give us just a bit more time.”
The glass door slid open and a thin, bespectacled man entered. “Mr Park Chanyeol.” He inclined his head politely in Chanyeol’s direction.
“Leave us alone for a moment,” Chanyeol ordered. “I need to speak to Mr Byun in private.”
“I’m sorry, Mr Park. I’m under orders to retrieve Byun Baekhyun. He’s being brought in to the local division.”
“What has he done to deserve that? Do you think he’s a criminal?” Chanyeol’s voice was rising in pitch and volume, getting more and more agitated. He didn’t know what he was hoping to accomplish, but Baekhyun ignored him and walked towards the escort.
“I’m sorry I can’t disclose the details to you, Mr Park, but I cannot leave you alone with him. We’re taking him in for questioning now.”
“It’s alright.” Baekhyun spoke, looking at the man, and Chanyeol wanted to scream. “Let’s go.”
“Stay,” Chanyeol pleaded. “Don’t go yet.”
But Baekhyun left without so much as a backward glance.
The met for the last time in the middle of the Atlantic. The famed Zygomas was open, for the last of three nights each year. One of three nights a year that its ivory platform - of a skull emerging from a lotus - was raised above the sea on a column of water, supported by a geyser of white sea foam.
Slippery electronic beats pulsing in his ears, Chanyeol stood alone on the balcony, watching the mass of glittering, writhing bodies on the platform below. The waves were surging and receding along with the music, causing the floating platform to rise and tilt - not that it bothered any of the ravers, who just slid along. From his vantage point in one of the (thankfully unmoving) ocular lounges, Chanyeol could clearly see the cloud of icy sea mist hanging around the mandible, separating the club’s airspace from the exterior.
“He’s arrived, sir.”
Chanyeol spun around. The lounge attendant stood unaccompanied in the narrow doorway.
“Where?” His eyes scanned the moving platform.
“He’s outside the cranium.”
“Why didn’t you bring him here?” He couldn’t contain the exasperation in his voice.
“He won’t come, sir. He’s quite adept at avoiding me.”
Chanyeol sighed. “Very well.” He grabbed his jacket. “Lead the way.”
***
Baekhyun was facing the ocean, just another silver-painted face and jumble of reflective gunmetal fabric, blending in seamlessly with the ravers. If Chanyeol hadn’t known his silhouette so well, he’d have found it almost impossible to locate him in the sea of people. As he approached, Baekhyun spoke. “I’ve told you before, I can’t go around just meeting people in public.”
“Nobody would’ve known. You really are uncannily good at social camouflage.”
Baekhyun shrugged. “It is my job to inconspicuous.”
“It’s hard to believe someone with as much charisma and presence as the man I saw onstage a few days ago, can be this good at passing by unnoticed.”
“A lot of exceptional people go unnoticed in this world,” was Baekhyun’s reply. Chanyeol just stood there, drinking in the sight of him, trying to commit it all to memory. Baekhyun took hold of Chanyeol’s hand and pulled him towards the entrance to the dance hall. “I’ve always heard of this place, but never got the chance to come until today. Ready to rave?”
Chanyeol gave himself up to the music - hard, rubbery beats overlaid with surging ambient Glossolalia and Celtic violins. He wasn’t much of a dancer, but deep in the crowd, holding onto Baekhyun’s waist, rhythm pulsing in his ears, the cold Atlantic wind rushing around him, it was only too easy to lose himself in a trance. Baekhyun was dancing, holding onto his shoulders, smiling, maybe even singing. It was hard to tell, his senses overloaded as they were. The firm grip of Baekhyun’s hands was anchoring his soul to his body, as the platform rose and spun and the people around them exulted and walked on air.
The night was reaching its deepest, and Northern lights would be moving overhead soon. Chanyeol and Baekhyun left the floor and headed back out onto the balcony, heading out to the far end of a lotus petal. More of the clubbers had stepped out by then, and most of them were zoned out, lost in a world of hallucinogens, seeing things that weren’t there. Still, Chanyeol wanted to make sure they were in a position where they wouldn’t be eavesdropped upon. Far out, the roar of the waves was loud enough that it masked their voices.
“That was every bit as magical as it’s made out to be,” Baekhyun said, in wonderment. The remnants of ecstasy hadn’t quite faded from his features. “People weren’t lying when they said partying here was a spiritual experience.”
“I’ve been here many times, but never actually danced,” Chanyeol admitted. “I usually stayed in one of the lounges.”
“With company.”
“Yeah. Lots of company. But this time was by the far the best I’ve ever had here - and the best company, too.”
Heavy emotion must’ve been audible in his voice. The smile slid off Baekhyun’s face, and he turned to face the horizon. “I’m only going to be here till dawn. I’m taking a train from the nearest land port.”
“Babylon?”
Baekhyun nodded, but did not speak. They knew what the destination implied.
Chanyeol had known this was coming, but his mind still struggled to wrap itself around the concept. “You’ll be happy to go, at least.” He glanced at Baekhyun, who was brooding, seemingly deep in thought.
When he spoke again his tone was serious. “I suppose so. That night, in the mountains, you told me this world held nothing for you, that you had everything but nothing that mattered. It was similar for me; before you I had nothing in this world. Singing was the only thing that ever made me feel alive. So taking up this assignment, I really had nothing to lose. But now … I’m afraid to lose you. Although you were never mine to keep, and I would never have met you if I hadn’t made that decision.”
“What I said back then no longer stands. You’ve given me something to miss. You make me want to come back.” How ironic those words seemed now - he’d tried to prevent Baekhyun from forming any lasting attachment to him, only to be the one to fall hardest in the end. The other man seemed so incredibly composed - so calm and at peace, accepting of his fate, nothing like the state of inner turmoil that Chanyeol was positive reflected clearly on his own face, and in his voice - weakened, about to break, lacking its usual decisiveness.
“Maybe we’ll have another chance. If we ever meet again, I promise not to let you get away.”
Chanyeol nodded. Though that would never happen. “I believe we will. Somehow.” He was only half lying. He’d learned enough about the hallucinations to know that Baekhyun would be one of his.
Baekhyun smiled sadly. Their hands were clasped as the sky came alive.
“No regrets, though?”
“None at all.”
By the time the sun rose, Baekhyun was gone. Chanyeol stood on the platform, drenched in the downpour, and watched as Baekhyun gave him a last wave, then turned and boarded the waiting train. Five minutes later, the train disappeared into the fog, a trail of steam rising from the exhaust pipes, and then all that was left was the misty rocks, and the torrential rain.
“Sir, please proceed this way.” A lady guided Baekhyun into the lobby of the hundredth floor. The unassuming appearance of the place threw him off. It was too comfortable, too simply furnished for a place of its status and purpose. His feet moved forward reflexively, placing themselves in front of one another. The corridor ahead was long and carpeted, its sandy walls hung with abstract paintings. He walked for minutes in silence.
Finally the corridor drew to a close. Doors slid open ahead, and Baekhyun stepped into the circular room. They were high up somewhere in the capital plaza, and through the glass walls Baekhyun could see the massive sandstone complex of the Ministry’s headquarters - blocks of beige extending as far as the eye could see. It truly was a fort, a kingdom, and he was admiring it from the highest of ivory towers.
The centre of the room was occupied by a large machine, and a lady - its operator - was standing next to the screen, flipping through several settings. “The machine is primed, sir.”
A man was standing at the far end of the room, facing the city. “Please leave us.”
“Yes, sir.” She bowed and took her leave, the doors sliding shut behind her. Baekhyun stood alone in the centre of the room.
Junmyeon turned around. “You’ve completed your mission admirably, Mr Byun. You’re going to be wiped now.”
Baekhyun nodded.
“The agreement we made will be honoured. You’ll receive your compensation, and you’ll wake up after this having no recollection of the last year.”
Baekhyun nodded again. He’d prepared himself for this moment, but his throat was tight.
“Any last questions?” Baekhyun shook his head, still staring out of the window. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the other man - couldn’t bear to look at his pressed, perfectly-groomed visage, his air of entitlement and utter composure.
“Very well then. Please lie down on the seat.”
Baekhyun lay down. The seat began to slide into the metallic tube, and Baekhyun was greeted by pitch black and cold air. Every hair on his body stood on end. Finally the end of the tube snapped shut, and he was completely enveloped in darkness. The cold darkness was the most horrible thing he’d ever experienced, and Baekhyun struggled not to panic.
Junmyeon’s voice echoed in the chamber. “Try to clear your mind. Think of nothing. It will make the process cleaner and reduce the chances of over-deletion.”
That was easy. Baekhyun’s mind was so overloaded, it was numb - a blank sheet.
“Good, very good. I’m going to begin the countdown.”
No - not so fast. Baekhyun’s mind began to scream again, and he fought against it. Almost there. Almost home.
“Five… four…”
Don’t think of him. Be calm. There was nothing to fear.
“Two…”
What happened to three?
“One…”
Baekhyun’s mind was blank.
“Zero.”
***
Baekhyun’s eyes snapped open. He was lying in his bed back at home, warm sheets covering his body, sinking into the soft spring of his old mattress. The familiarity sent a pang of warmth through him, but didn’t quite override a general sense of unease. Something didn’t feel right. What had happened yesterday? Why hadn’t his alarm gone off? Was he late for work?
His head spun as he sat up. An envelope was sitting on his nightstand, and he picked it up in confusion. Physical documents weren’t often used, except for extremely confidential purposes.
The envelope was addressed to him. He ripped it open, and slid out a set of documents. The first stack, an extensive and slightly threatening list of terms, was labelled “Contract”. The last page was embellished with his own signature. Behind that, a sheet of headshots - the faces of all kinds of people, young and old, with their names and brief descriptions labelled underneath. Faces of the people he’d dealt with on his journey, whom he’d be expected to recognise if he ever encountered them again. It was a pitifully short list for a year of life. Baekhyun examined every face - none jolted even the slightest of memories.
The last page was a brief letter of explanation.
You have recently undergone a memory wipe. The events of the last year have been deleted from your memory and you have been compensated as agreed upon in your contract. You can contact the profile stated below to seek verification or clarification of any doubts.
You have quit your part-time jobs as a bartender, waiter, club-handler to pursue other interests. You made one public appearance at the 520th State Ceremony in New Seoul (details in contract). An information sheet of the people you met during the past year is enclosed. Remain alert and keep the events of your memory wipe private.
On the far wall, his window abruptly slammed shut, blown by a sudden gust of wind. Baekhyun stood to latch it, and as he watched, rain began to fall - lightly at first, working up to a downpour in a matter of seconds.
The rain beat down, blurring out the surroundings. It filled his apartment with a steady, calm drumming, and filled his heart with a fleeting wistfulness, chased by inexplicable melancholy.
five years later
Chanyeol was almost late. His ride came to a stop just a few metres shy of the beach house, landing softly so as to not disturb the sand. Chanyeol alighted and hurried up a side staircase to the balcony, coming face-to-face with two men - one of whom looked extremely annoyed.
“Where the fuck have you been?” The man was clearly agitated, working up a sweat in his beige tuxedo.
“Hello to you too, Jongin, Sehun. Long time no see.”
Jongin sighed in annoyance, then took a deep breath. “Alright guys. We start in one minute. You know what to do. Please don’t ruin this for us.”
“Don’t worry. We’ve had practice.” Sehun grinned, not very reassuringly, and gave Jongin a pat on the back.
From inside the room came the sound of a thousand chairs being scraped back, and then the doors were pulled open from the inside. Jongin straightened up, checked that his friends were ready, and Chanyeol followed him into the hall.
Chanyeol’s first reaction was awe. The hall was beautiful - pale wood, onyx, tasteful arrangements of tropical plants with large exotic flowers, and the ceiling - it had carvings bursting forth in shades of blush purple and watercolour blue, as though colonies of corals were growing on the surface. Pale golden light filtered in through tinted windows all around the perimeter of the room.
No matter how much of the world he’d seen, beauty never failed to impress him. He mentally noted that the decor choices were definitely the bride’s - Jongin didn’t have the taste to pull together something like this.
A thousand eyes flickered towards them as they entered and came to a halt behind the altar - it evoked a strong sense of déjà vu. Then the main doors burst open, and in came the procession of bridesmaids and the bride, escorted by her father. Jongin’s face lit up when he saw her, as did hers as she came to a halt opposite him, under the star of the empire.
Vows were exchanged, and they were wed. Applause erupted from the guests, the couple were seated, and the reception began. Jongin and Krystal were seated with their families, and Chanyeol and Sehun were guided to the next table - occupied by Junmyeon, Eunji and several of their other friends. His brothers from the academy, getting married and settling down one by one. Settling down - a concept that hadn’t even crossed his mind until a few days ago, as he’d set up his apartment in Seoul. He’d been away too long, and so much had changed - himself perhaps the most of all. Words had always come easy to him, but now he found that he didn’t have any to say. So he listened - listened to familiar voices from his past telling him about all that had happened and all that had changed, and their words gave him hope that he, too, would be able to lead a life content and at peace.
***
The reception was almost at its end. Chanyeol’s eyes began to wander, and as they did they came to rest on a man sitting way back at the rear of the hall. They made eye contact. His heart stopped.
The man’s face was achingly familiar. He was talking to some of the people seated at his table, making them laugh, but his eyes were still fixed on Chanyeol. Chanyeol almost shot out of his seat, but realised that Sehun was speaking to him.
“Chanyeol. Are you even listening?”
Chanyeol glanced at Sehun, who was looking at him weirdly. “Sorry,” he said curtly, and stood up. He looked over to the table at the back, but the man’s seat was empty.
Had he hallucinated? It might have been the effects he’d been warned about - phenomena of the Northern gateways that nobody understood. Insanity and worse had fallen on so many before him, but Chanyeol had never cared. They’d always said he would pay for his rashness.
But it couldn’t be. His mind was too alert for this to be a hallucination - those were sluggish, fluid and confusing. He’d experienced them enough to be able to tell. Chanyeol struggled to calm himself down, and scanned the area again. The man was walking, alone, out the back doors of the hall. There was no mistaking that figure.
Baekhyun. He’d seen the image of him a million times over, dredged up from the depths of his subconscious. But this was him, in the flesh.
Chanyeol’s first instinct was to run over, to grab him and tell him that he was here, he’d come back. But Baekhyun wasn’t the same man he’d loved five years ago. He’d been wiped. The Baekhyun of five years ago had come to him only because he’d wanted a one-night stand with someone who’d be leaving for so far away that there was no chance of blowing his cover.
Baekhyun certainly wouldn’t recognise him, and most probably wouldn’t even like him. Could he deal with that? Could he look into Baekhyun’s eyes, could he face the other man, knowing that although he loved him beyond all reason, the other man didn’t care for him at all?
Baekhyun was already out of sight. Chanyeol turned around and headed in the opposite direction, to the bathroom, and splashed his heated face with water. His face in the mirror was flushed, sweaty, foreign to him. He’d spent most of his life establishing control - over his friends, society, his family, his own destiny - and he was good at it. He could command many things: respect, fear, subordination, compliance. Now he was faced with the one thing that mattered most, and it was completely out of his hands.
Caught up in his internal struggle, he failed to notice that someone else had entered the bathroom.
“Why didn’t you go after him?”
Chanyeol looked up. Junmyeon was standing next to him in front of the sinks.
“I had him invited here, you know,” Junmyeon continued when Chanyeol didn’t respond. “I recommended him to Jongin, telling him to hire this singer for the pre-reception. I thought you’d be happy to see him.”
Chanyeol was quiet. Junmyeon waited a while, before sighing. “Why are you here, Chanyeol?”
“I can’t,” Chanyeol finally said. He refused to meet Junmyeon’s eyes. “He doesn’t know me, Junmyeon.”
Junmyeon listened, then considered his words for a moment. “Do you remember when you came running into my office and threatened me with my life?”
Chanyeol remembered. It had been just after Baekhyun’s performance at the state ceremony. He’d barged into Junmyeon’s office completely unannounced, demanding to know whether the division planned on honouring its agreement with Baekhyun. He’d even threatened to have Junmyeon personally exiled if the terms weren’t met.
“What happened to that man? The man who always got what he wanted, no matter the means.”
Chanyeol shook his head. “This is different. There’s no way to force him to care for me.”
“This isn’t about force, Chanyeol. It’s about being brave and chasing what you want. I know you’re afraid, but you’re armed with sincerity. This is a man who was deeply in love with you at one point in time. It’s more than likely to happen again.”
“But what if it doesn’t?” He felt pathetic, even as the words were coming out of his mouth.
Junmyeon gave him a hard stare. “Listen to the advice you used to give, and don’t let the thought of failure cross your mind. You won’t get many more chances like this, Chanyeol. Go after him.”
Junmyeon straightened up, clapped him on the back, and headed out. Once more, Chanyeol was alone.
It’s about being brave and chasing what you want. Chanyeol thought back to another time, what felt like worlds away, breaking down in a speakeasy in the early hours of the morning. He’d been unable to reach out to the man that occupied most of his waking thought. He’d been accused of being a coward. He thought of a bright, rectangular smile that was all teeth and bold laughter. He thought of the man who had inspired him to throw aside his reservations, to let his guard down and pursue real happiness, no matter how fleeting.
Chanyeol ran out of the bathroom and straight back to the wedding hall. The reception was over and it was almost empty, with only a few of the couple’s family members still lingering behind. He turned and headed down the stairs into the main lobby of the hotel, towards the reception.
“I need to know which room Mr Byun Baekhyun is occupying,” Chanyeol panted.
“I’m sorry sir, we can’t disclose those details.”
Chanyeol groaned, running a hand through his hair. He mentally ran through his options. “I’m with Kim Jongin, alright? He’s the one that booked us all into the hotel.”
The receptionist looked skeptical. “Do you have any identification?”
Chanyeol pulled out his cardholder, rifling through it. “Need me to take a handprint? What form of ID do you need?”
The receptionist clicked through several files on his screen, and then looked back at Chanyeol. “I’m sorry, sir. Kim Jongin didn’t list anyone as his co-host. I can’t authorise you.”
Fuck this shit. “Look, I’m wearing a fucking tuxedo. Not because I wanted to, but because I was the best man at my friend’s wedding today.” Chanyeol bit out his words through gritted teeth. “I came back, quite literally, from the gates of hell to look for this man - whom I’ve been waiting to meet for five fucking years. So give me his room number right now or you can kiss this job goodbye.”
“Yes, sir.” The receptionist looked down at his records, and scrolled. Chanyeol tapped his fingers on the counter impatiently. “He’s in room 4.”
Chanyeol took off without bothering to thank the guy. It was five in the afternoon and most people would be back in their rooms. He raced down the stairs to the first floor and found the door right next to the pool. Chanyeol took a deep breath and knocked.
Nobody answered.
He knocked again, with more force, then tried the handle. Locked. No response.
Chanyeol waited outside the door for someone to answer it. He waited for ten minutes, fifteen, thirty.
An hour passed. The sun went down. And finally, after close to ninety minutes, Chanyeol gave up and headed back to his room.
***
As usual, he made his appearance at night.
Chanyeol was dragged, almost forcibly, to the luau. Jongin came barging into his suite with a lei and straw hat. “I don’t care if you don’t feel like dancing. It’s my party and you’re going to be there. You owe me this much.”
But when Chanyeol finally arrived (hatless and lei-less), there, sitting at the bar with a tropical cocktail, was Baekhyun. He was alone, seemingly content with watching the dancers, but Chanyeol knew that he would much prefer to be out on the floor partying with the rest.
As he approached, Baekhyun regarded him with clear brown eyes. Chanyeol extended a hand. “Park Chanyeol.”
Baekhyun smiled amicably and shook it. There wasn’t a trace of recognition in his face. “Byun Baekhyun.” The familiarity of his voice, his manner, tugged at Chanyeol’s heartstrings.
“Bride or groom?” Chanyeol asked as casually as he could, sitting down next to him.
“Neither,” Baekhyun said. “I sang at the pre-reception, and they invited me out of courtesy. I don't actually know a single person here, but I’m stuck on this island till tomorrow anyway.”
“They didn’t invite you to bring a plus one? Not very courteous of them.”
“I wanted to bring my boyfriend, but he’s busy and didn’t have time to come.” Chanyeol was still processing the words when Baekhyun laughed. “I don’t have a plus one, if that’s what you’re asking.” The man was as annoyingly perceptive as ever. “I’ve heard about you, you know,” Baekhyun continued nonchalantly, and Chanyeol threw him a sidelong glance. “Don’t act like you're shocked, you were part of the first team to ever return from the North. I thought getting assigned there was considered nothing short of a death sentence. It was amazing, what you guys did.”
Chanyeol shrugged. “I’m an exceptional individual.” And he’d had nothing to lose. He helped himself to one of the complimentary cocktails on the bar counter.
“You seem like one.” Chanyeol turned to look at Baekhyun, surprised. The intensity of Baekhyun’s gaze sent a jolt through Chanyeol’s entire being. It was as though he was pinning Chanyeol to the spot, rendering him unable to move or even look away. “I’ll bet you have many stories to tell.”
His words were spoken lightly, but they carried gravity.
He could tell Baekhyun about their journey to the gateways of Svalbard, and what they’d overcome to reach their opening. What lay beyond was still a secret, but maybe someday he’d be able to tell all that he’d seen.
And if possible, he could tell Baekhyun that he knew what the man had been through. He could tell Baekhyun about the first time they’d watched the sunrise together, out at the defunct lighthouse, and all the other sunrises they’d shared after that. He’d tell about the time they went driving into the night sky, when they’d spent a night together aboard an airship, when they’d met under the aurora in the middle of the ocean. He wouldn’t be able to explain everything, but if Baekhyun had trusted enough to tell him then, he could trust Baekhyun enough to tell him now.
One step at a time. They were no longer unhappy. No longer in transit, no longer looking for something the world could not offer, no longer torn between chasing impossible dreams and giving themselves a shot at happiness. The lost soul and the long-suffering one were gone. Still damaged, perhaps - but healing.
They couldn’t change the world, but they could live one day at a time. There could be a future in each other’s eyes.
“It could take a while,” Chanyeol said finally. There was so much to say, and so much he couldn’t.
Baekhyun’s answering smile was radiant. “Good thing I’ve got all night.”
Chanyeol took his hand. The sun would be up in a few hours, but this time he wasn’t letting go.
<<
“How has nobody else recognised you yet? You’re constantly around.”
Baekhyun sighed, not looking away from the tea set he was laying out. He’d known that Park Chanyeol was going to be on the airship, as a member of the board that had gathered to have their conference. He’d just hoped he’d be able to board the ship, accomplish his task, and disembark without having to encounter the man.
“Nobody notices a waiter.” What was the man doing in this lounge anyway?
“I didn’t know people from our sect were involved in political scandals.”
Baekhyun picked up the tray and turned to face Chanyeol. It struck him again, how handsome the other man was, pulling off the long coat and suit like he was born to model it on a runway. He was so handsome it hurt to look at him - a physical reminder of how far removed he was from Baekhyun’s world.
He took a deep breath. “Can I help you? Would you like some more tea?”
“No. I would like a word with you.”
“I’m afraid I’m still on duty. I have to attend to the meeting upstairs.” Baekhyun moved to exit, but Chanyeol blocked him.
“Nobody in that meeting could be of interest to you. They’re all decent people. The ones you’re after are in their rooms, they won’t be getting out till we convene tomorrow. And I’m sure you have them both bugged anyway.”
Baekhyun set the tray down, and looked up resignedly. Chanyeol strode over to the door and bolted it.
“Nobody’s going to come in here,” Baekhyun said dully. “Please make this quick.”
“Fine.” Chanyeol’s tone shifted abruptly in that unnerving way of his - the same way his expressions seemed to flick from good to bad in a millisecond. “Are you here to compromise our expedition?”
Baekhyun regarded the man standing before him. “Classified,” he said finally.
“Work with me, Baekhyun. We both know that I have every means to give your game away.”
His condescending tone grated on Baekhyun’s nerves.
“Who would you give me away to, though, Mr Park?” he challenged. He took a step forward, till he was face-to-face with Chanyeol, not caring that he had to tilt his head at a ridiculous angle to keep glaring at him. “The division? The people I’m monitoring? You’d do that, at the expense of your country’s stability?”
A beat of silence. When Chanyeol spoke again, his tone was icy.
“Both. I’d first inform the people you were monitoring, and then I would file a report to the division that you’d failed in your tasks and alerted the people you set out to thwart. As for my country, I honestly wouldn’t give a fuck if it burned to the ground.”
Baekhyun wanted to stare the man down, but he couldn’t do it. Hot tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. He wouldn’t let this asshole, wouldn’t let his one moment of weakness ruin everything for him. He’d done an excellent job of remaining low-profile with everyone else he’d met. He was close - so painfully close - to wrapping this up for good.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” Baekhyun said calmly. “I’ll take you to the headquarters myself if I have to.” The worst they could do would be to cut his pay. Right?
“You actually think they’d wipe me? They’d sooner fire you and lock you up.”
“Names mean nothing where national security is concerned. I’m willing to take the risk.”
The other man abruptly grabbed hold of his shoulders, his grip tight as though he was trying to squeeze the life force out of him. “Byun Baekhyun. Do not do anything to sabotage this expedition. This is my whole life. My whole life - god, do you understand?”
“It’s my whole life too.” Baekhyun was aware that a tear was making its way down his face, but he kept composure.
“Shit, are you crying?” Chanyeol sounded genuinely shocked as he stared at Baekhyun’s face.
“Let go.” Baekhyun forcefully shoved Chanyeol’s arms back and turned away. The next moment, he was grabbed and enveloped in a bone-crushing hug.
“Sorry,” Chanyeol said quietly. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”
Baekhyun knew he should’ve pushed the man away immediately, knocked him out and dragged his sorry ass straight to headquarters the moment the zeppelin landed. But all he could do was stand there, leaning on the man’s shoulder, letting his long held-in tears fall.
This was supposed to have been a simple job. Baekhyun had thought he could do it. Just one year living in the shadows, sneaking around and spying on people, and then he’d have money to do what he really wanted. Easy. But it was an incredibly lonely life - he had no one at all. And then this guy had come in and complicated things further, messing with his emotions and then running off to hide behind problems of his own.
“I’m not good at expressing myself,” Chanyeol said finally. “So I generally try not to. And I know I’m a mess. I can’t control my behaviour - especially around you. But I mean it when I say that I don’t want any harm to come to you. Ever. As much as I need to go on this expedition.”
Baekhyun understood what he was saying, could feel his desperation. “You … you can do something about it. The team leader - Sooyoung - she’s clear. The planners - the ones who proposed this - aren’t having their motives investigated either. You can find people to replace the ones who will be lost.”
Chanyeol exhaled sharply. “That’s all I needed to hear.” He pulled away. “Please come with me for a bit, I need to talk to you.”
***
They were seated in Chanyeol’s cabin, at the bow of the ship.
“I owe you an explanation for my behaviour,” Chanyeol began. “People call me an asshole. I guess they’re right, I’m not nice, because I never had anything to live for - kind of like yourself, except that instead of singing I had only my dreams of exploration. I was reckless in all my personal relationships because none of them really mattered to me, none of them would last once I left. I did to you exactly what I’d always done. I called you up, asked you out, with no plans of commitment. But when I realised that I was actually feeling something real, I became more antagonistic than usual. You probably could tell. Of course I wanted to show Junmyeon up, I can’t help that, but I’m really sorry that I treated you how I did. I caused you pain, and I feel incredibly guilty about it. You never deserve to be treated badly.”
“Neither do any of the others you’ve hurt,” Baekhyun remarked drily. Chanyeol rolled his eyes, and Baekhyun softened his tone. “But I accept your apology. I know you reacted like that because you’re hurting too.”
“I owe you a clarification as well. You probably think I lied whenever I talked about myself. What I told you, about wanting to be a singer, it was the truth. They - the covert division - picked me up because I was an orphan, alone in the world. Nobody knew me, nobody would miss me if anything happened to me during the mission. I signed a contract with them, and they promised me the money and connections I’d need.”
“And you believed them?”
“Not like I had a choice.” Baekhyun shrugged. “But yeah, I believe them. It might sound ridiculous, but I like to believe the best in people. In spite of everything.”
“I wasn’t sure about you when you showed up at the wedding,” Chanyeol admitted. “Something about you was so transient, like you knew you were leaving for somewhere. But I honestly hadn’t a clue about Junmyeon. Your cover story about being his bartender was actually quite believable, I wouldn’t have expected a spy to be walking around in plain sight at a social event.”
Baekhyun laughed. “I’ve infiltrated quite a few events. The upper castes just don’t take notice of me. Little to no real disguise is needed there. It’s tougher when I deal at casinos, where I have to worry about people picking a fight.”
“I took notice of you. Even if you hadn’t come looking for me at the pool, I’d have found a way to approach you sooner or later.”
Baekhyun smiled softly. “You did, anyway.”
“And what you said the other time, when you called me a coward … you were right.” He stopped, clearly struggling to let his guard down. “You made me realise that boldness and bravery are very different things. I wasn’t always this way - I could be generous and giving, but I was always timid at heart, scared of rejection and failure. I was never courageous.”
“It’s alright. You’re making progress.”
“Yeah. I can finally admit to myself that I care for you - deeply. And I want to be by your side, as much as I can.”
“The short time we have might not count for much, but while we’re both here, I’ll stay.”
They spent the night together, in the confines of the small cabin. Baekhyun gave himself up to his senses, stopped resisting, allowed himself to feel each emotion as keenly as it hit him.
“Where are you going after this? Once the ship lands?” Chanyeol breathed out as they lay side by side, slipping in and out of consciousness. The ship was rocking gently, lulling them into slumber.
Baekhyun thought of what he could tell. “I’m going to perform at the state ceremony in a few days, I’m being summoned to make a report there, right after I perform.”
“I’ll be there.”
And so Baekhyun lay next to Chanyeol, for the second time. Chanyeol fell asleep quickly, his chest rising and falling as he breathed quietly. The man’s brow was furrowed, betraying deeply-buried pain and stress that he usually kept his countenance well clear of.
I will love you tonight
and I will stay by your side
Baekhyun tried to focus on every moment of this - every moment of Chanyeol’s warmth pressing comfortingly into his side, breathing in his fresh, cool scent, the warmth deep in his heart - and did his best to forget about the coming morning, when he would inevitably have to slip out of the room and out of Chanyeol’s life.
I want to touch you but the night becomes the day
I count the words that I am never going to say,
and I see you
In midnight blue.
The arena was full, tens of thousands of people gathered for a celebration of art and the power of the state.
A man was standing on a raised cylindrical platform, high above the massive stadium, enveloped by a gentle halo of light. Behind him, a giant screen, a cluster of a billion organic light-emitting diodes, played a flickering sepia montage.
Chanyeol sat facing the stage head-on, though a mile away from its platform. The opening act was about to begin, and the performer was Baekhyun. Byun Baekhyun - his small figure clothed simply in a loose white shirt and black pants, a sweep of black hair framing his delicate pale face. As the music started up, a sombre piano and rousing orchestra, his eyelids fluttered shut.
His voice spilled out, starting out quiet yet filling the entire stadium. The sky was clear that night, yet in Chanyeol’s mind he could see the rain falling over his shoulders, drenching the man. He didn’t know how long Baekhyun sang for. It could’ve been a few minutes, it could’ve been half an hour. His concept of time was no longer solid.
His voice, that beautiful husky tenor, surged as the music roused to its climax. Chanyeol watched, feeling an acute ache deep inside that he couldn’t explain. He had never seen anything like it. And as he stared up the man standing up on the platform, every part the heartbroken angel, he knew. The mission was complete. This stage was the cover-up for his approaching wipe and the career that would follow. Baekhyun was leaving.
Yet he’d been captivated, heart, mind and soul.
The state of complete entrancement lasted right until the lights dimmed and Baekhyun’s circular platform sank below the stage and disappeared from vision.
Before the next act could be announced, Chanyeol was already striding out of the arena and towards the stage door. He shoved his namecard at a startled security guard, pushing his way through several choirs and and orchestra before he found it. A frosted glass door labelled with the name “Byun Baekhyun”. Chanyeol pushed down the handle and walked right in, searching. Baekhyun was nowhere to be found. The room was functional, sparse. A camera on the far wall and another above the door.
Someone stepped into the room, and Chanyeol spun around. Baekhyun stood there alone, still attired in his loose white shirt, his face still painted with foundation. He didn’t look at all surprised to see Chanyeol. He opened his mouth to speak, but Chanyeol was already striding across the room to cup his face in his hands and seal their lips together. He raked his hands through Baekhyun’s soft black hair, letting the waves tumble between his fingers, caressing the soft skin of his neck as his lips moved desperately over Baekhyun’s. He couldn’t believe that Baekhyun was right here, in his arms. He didn’t have words to articulate the pain he was feeling, the pain that was stabbing right through his heart.
When they pulled apart, Baekhyun’s stance was resigned. “You said your time here was dwindling, but I guess mine ran out first.”
Chanyeol shook his head. “No. We’ll meet again. You can’t just leave like that.”
“You know I can’t meet people in public.”
Chanyeol’s mind raced. Missions, reports, grace periods, wipes. “The Zygomas will be open in three days. Meet me there. You can do that, can’t you?” Aborted reports. Task extensions. “No. You can postpone the report. Please. I’m leaving in two weeks. Give us just a bit more time.”
The glass door slid open and a thin, bespectacled man entered. “Mr Park Chanyeol.” He inclined his head politely in Chanyeol’s direction.
“Leave us alone for a moment,” Chanyeol ordered. “I need to speak to Mr Byun in private.”
“I’m sorry, Mr Park. I’m under orders to retrieve Byun Baekhyun. He’s being brought in to the local division.”
“What has he done to deserve that? Do you think he’s a criminal?” Chanyeol’s voice was rising in pitch and volume, getting more and more agitated. He didn’t know what he was hoping to accomplish, but Baekhyun ignored him and walked towards the escort.
“I’m sorry I can’t disclose the details to you, Mr Park, but I cannot leave you alone with him. We’re taking him in for questioning now.”
“It’s alright.” Baekhyun spoke, looking at the man, and Chanyeol wanted to scream. “Let’s go.”
“Stay,” Chanyeol pleaded. “Don’t go yet.”
But Baekhyun left without so much as a backward glance.
The met for the last time in the middle of the Atlantic. The famed Zygomas was open, for the last of three nights each year. One of three nights a year that its ivory platform - of a skull emerging from a lotus - was raised above the sea on a column of water, supported by a geyser of white sea foam.
Slippery electronic beats pulsing in his ears, Chanyeol stood alone on the balcony, watching the mass of glittering, writhing bodies on the platform below. The waves were surging and receding along with the music, causing the floating platform to rise and tilt - not that it bothered any of the ravers, who just slid along. From his vantage point in one of the (thankfully unmoving) ocular lounges, Chanyeol could clearly see the cloud of icy sea mist hanging around the mandible, separating the club’s airspace from the exterior.
“He’s arrived, sir.”
Chanyeol spun around. The lounge attendant stood unaccompanied in the narrow doorway.
“Where?” His eyes scanned the moving platform.
“He’s outside the cranium.”
“Why didn’t you bring him here?” He couldn’t contain the exasperation in his voice.
“He won’t come, sir. He’s quite adept at avoiding me.”
Chanyeol sighed. “Very well.” He grabbed his jacket. “Lead the way.”
***
Baekhyun was facing the ocean, just another silver-painted face and jumble of reflective gunmetal fabric, blending in seamlessly with the ravers. If Chanyeol hadn’t known his silhouette so well, he’d have found it almost impossible to locate him in the sea of people. As he approached, Baekhyun spoke. “I’ve told you before, I can’t go around just meeting people in public.”
“Nobody would’ve known. You really are uncannily good at social camouflage.”
Baekhyun shrugged. “It is my job to inconspicuous.”
“It’s hard to believe someone with as much charisma and presence as the man I saw onstage a few days ago, can be this good at passing by unnoticed.”
“A lot of exceptional people go unnoticed in this world,” was Baekhyun’s reply. Chanyeol just stood there, drinking in the sight of him, trying to commit it all to memory. Baekhyun took hold of Chanyeol’s hand and pulled him towards the entrance to the dance hall. “I’ve always heard of this place, but never got the chance to come until today. Ready to rave?”
Chanyeol gave himself up to the music - hard, rubbery beats overlaid with surging ambient Glossolalia and Celtic violins. He wasn’t much of a dancer, but deep in the crowd, holding onto Baekhyun’s waist, rhythm pulsing in his ears, the cold Atlantic wind rushing around him, it was only too easy to lose himself in a trance. Baekhyun was dancing, holding onto his shoulders, smiling, maybe even singing. It was hard to tell, his senses overloaded as they were. The firm grip of Baekhyun’s hands was anchoring his soul to his body, as the platform rose and spun and the people around them exulted and walked on air.
The night was reaching its deepest, and Northern lights would be moving overhead soon. Chanyeol and Baekhyun left the floor and headed back out onto the balcony, heading out to the far end of a lotus petal. More of the clubbers had stepped out by then, and most of them were zoned out, lost in a world of hallucinogens, seeing things that weren’t there. Still, Chanyeol wanted to make sure they were in a position where they wouldn’t be eavesdropped upon. Far out, the roar of the waves was loud enough that it masked their voices.
“That was every bit as magical as it’s made out to be,” Baekhyun said, in wonderment. The remnants of ecstasy hadn’t quite faded from his features. “People weren’t lying when they said partying here was a spiritual experience.”
“I’ve been here many times, but never actually danced,” Chanyeol admitted. “I usually stayed in one of the lounges.”
“With company.”
“Yeah. Lots of company. But this time was by the far the best I’ve ever had here - and the best company, too.”
Heavy emotion must’ve been audible in his voice. The smile slid off Baekhyun’s face, and he turned to face the horizon. “I’m only going to be here till dawn. I’m taking a train from the nearest land port.”
“Babylon?”
Baekhyun nodded, but did not speak. They knew what the destination implied.
Chanyeol had known this was coming, but his mind still struggled to wrap itself around the concept. “You’ll be happy to go, at least.” He glanced at Baekhyun, who was brooding, seemingly deep in thought.
When he spoke again his tone was serious. “I suppose so. That night, in the mountains, you told me this world held nothing for you, that you had everything but nothing that mattered. It was similar for me; before you I had nothing in this world. Singing was the only thing that ever made me feel alive. So taking up this assignment, I really had nothing to lose. But now … I’m afraid to lose you. Although you were never mine to keep, and I would never have met you if I hadn’t made that decision.”
“What I said back then no longer stands. You’ve given me something to miss. You make me want to come back.” How ironic those words seemed now - he’d tried to prevent Baekhyun from forming any lasting attachment to him, only to be the one to fall hardest in the end. The other man seemed so incredibly composed - so calm and at peace, accepting of his fate, nothing like the state of inner turmoil that Chanyeol was positive reflected clearly on his own face, and in his voice - weakened, about to break, lacking its usual decisiveness.
“Maybe we’ll have another chance. If we ever meet again, I promise not to let you get away.”
Chanyeol nodded. Though that would never happen. “I believe we will. Somehow.” He was only half lying. He’d learned enough about the hallucinations to know that Baekhyun would be one of his.
Baekhyun smiled sadly. Their hands were clasped as the sky came alive.
“No regrets, though?”
“None at all.”
By the time the sun rose, Baekhyun was gone. Chanyeol stood on the platform, drenched in the downpour, and watched as Baekhyun gave him a last wave, then turned and boarded the waiting train. Five minutes later, the train disappeared into the fog, a trail of steam rising from the exhaust pipes, and then all that was left was the misty rocks, and the torrential rain.
“Sir, please proceed this way.” A lady guided Baekhyun into the lobby of the hundredth floor. The unassuming appearance of the place threw him off. It was too comfortable, too simply furnished for a place of its status and purpose. His feet moved forward reflexively, placing themselves in front of one another. The corridor ahead was long and carpeted, its sandy walls hung with abstract paintings. He walked for minutes in silence.
Finally the corridor drew to a close. Doors slid open ahead, and Baekhyun stepped into the circular room. They were high up somewhere in the capital plaza, and through the glass walls Baekhyun could see the massive sandstone complex of the Ministry’s headquarters - blocks of beige extending as far as the eye could see. It truly was a fort, a kingdom, and he was admiring it from the highest of ivory towers.
The centre of the room was occupied by a large machine, and a lady - its operator - was standing next to the screen, flipping through several settings. “The machine is primed, sir.”
A man was standing at the far end of the room, facing the city. “Please leave us.”
“Yes, sir.” She bowed and took her leave, the doors sliding shut behind her. Baekhyun stood alone in the centre of the room.
Junmyeon turned around. “You’ve completed your mission admirably, Mr Byun. You’re going to be wiped now.”
Baekhyun nodded.
“The agreement we made will be honoured. You’ll receive your compensation, and you’ll wake up after this having no recollection of the last year.”
Baekhyun nodded again. He’d prepared himself for this moment, but his throat was tight.
“Any last questions?” Baekhyun shook his head, still staring out of the window. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the other man - couldn’t bear to look at his pressed, perfectly-groomed visage, his air of entitlement and utter composure.
“Very well then. Please lie down on the seat.”
Baekhyun lay down. The seat began to slide into the metallic tube, and Baekhyun was greeted by pitch black and cold air. Every hair on his body stood on end. Finally the end of the tube snapped shut, and he was completely enveloped in darkness. The cold darkness was the most horrible thing he’d ever experienced, and Baekhyun struggled not to panic.
Junmyeon’s voice echoed in the chamber. “Try to clear your mind. Think of nothing. It will make the process cleaner and reduce the chances of over-deletion.”
That was easy. Baekhyun’s mind was so overloaded, it was numb - a blank sheet.
“Good, very good. I’m going to begin the countdown.”
No - not so fast. Baekhyun’s mind began to scream again, and he fought against it. Almost there. Almost home.
“Five… four…”
Don’t think of him. Be calm. There was nothing to fear.
“Two…”
What happened to three?
“One…”
Baekhyun’s mind was blank.
“Zero.”
***
Baekhyun’s eyes snapped open. He was lying in his bed back at home, warm sheets covering his body, sinking into the soft spring of his old mattress. The familiarity sent a pang of warmth through him, but didn’t quite override a general sense of unease. Something didn’t feel right. What had happened yesterday? Why hadn’t his alarm gone off? Was he late for work?
His head spun as he sat up. An envelope was sitting on his nightstand, and he picked it up in confusion. Physical documents weren’t often used, except for extremely confidential purposes.
The envelope was addressed to him. He ripped it open, and slid out a set of documents. The first stack, an extensive and slightly threatening list of terms, was labelled “Contract”. The last page was embellished with his own signature. Behind that, a sheet of headshots - the faces of all kinds of people, young and old, with their names and brief descriptions labelled underneath. Faces of the people he’d dealt with on his journey, whom he’d be expected to recognise if he ever encountered them again. It was a pitifully short list for a year of life. Baekhyun examined every face - none jolted even the slightest of memories.
The last page was a brief letter of explanation.
You have recently undergone a memory wipe. The events of the last year have been deleted from your memory and you have been compensated as agreed upon in your contract. You can contact the profile stated below to seek verification or clarification of any doubts.
You have quit your part-time jobs as a bartender, waiter, club-handler to pursue other interests. You made one public appearance at the 520th State Ceremony in New Seoul (details in contract). An information sheet of the people you met during the past year is enclosed. Remain alert and keep the events of your memory wipe private.
On the far wall, his window abruptly slammed shut, blown by a sudden gust of wind. Baekhyun stood to latch it, and as he watched, rain began to fall - lightly at first, working up to a downpour in a matter of seconds.
The rain beat down, blurring out the surroundings. It filled his apartment with a steady, calm drumming, and filled his heart with a fleeting wistfulness, chased by inexplicable melancholy.
five years later
Chanyeol was almost late. His ride came to a stop just a few metres shy of the beach house, landing softly so as to not disturb the sand. Chanyeol alighted and hurried up a side staircase to the balcony, coming face-to-face with two men - one of whom looked extremely annoyed.
“Where the fuck have you been?” The man was clearly agitated, working up a sweat in his beige tuxedo.
“Hello to you too, Jongin, Sehun. Long time no see.”
Jongin sighed in annoyance, then took a deep breath. “Alright guys. We start in one minute. You know what to do. Please don’t ruin this for us.”
“Don’t worry. We’ve had practice.” Sehun grinned, not very reassuringly, and gave Jongin a pat on the back.
From inside the room came the sound of a thousand chairs being scraped back, and then the doors were pulled open from the inside. Jongin straightened up, checked that his friends were ready, and Chanyeol followed him into the hall.
Chanyeol’s first reaction was awe. The hall was beautiful - pale wood, onyx, tasteful arrangements of tropical plants with large exotic flowers, and the ceiling - it had carvings bursting forth in shades of blush purple and watercolour blue, as though colonies of corals were growing on the surface. Pale golden light filtered in through tinted windows all around the perimeter of the room.
No matter how much of the world he’d seen, beauty never failed to impress him. He mentally noted that the decor choices were definitely the bride’s - Jongin didn’t have the taste to pull together something like this.
A thousand eyes flickered towards them as they entered and came to a halt behind the altar - it evoked a strong sense of déjà vu. Then the main doors burst open, and in came the procession of bridesmaids and the bride, escorted by her father. Jongin’s face lit up when he saw her, as did hers as she came to a halt opposite him, under the star of the empire.
Vows were exchanged, and they were wed. Applause erupted from the guests, the couple were seated, and the reception began. Jongin and Krystal were seated with their families, and Chanyeol and Sehun were guided to the next table - occupied by Junmyeon, Eunji and several of their other friends. His brothers from the academy, getting married and settling down one by one. Settling down - a concept that hadn’t even crossed his mind until a few days ago, as he’d set up his apartment in Seoul. He’d been away too long, and so much had changed - himself perhaps the most of all. Words had always come easy to him, but now he found that he didn’t have any to say. So he listened - listened to familiar voices from his past telling him about all that had happened and all that had changed, and their words gave him hope that he, too, would be able to lead a life content and at peace.
***
The reception was almost at its end. Chanyeol’s eyes began to wander, and as they did they came to rest on a man sitting way back at the rear of the hall. They made eye contact. His heart stopped.
The man’s face was achingly familiar. He was talking to some of the people seated at his table, making them laugh, but his eyes were still fixed on Chanyeol. Chanyeol almost shot out of his seat, but realised that Sehun was speaking to him.
“Chanyeol. Are you even listening?”
Chanyeol glanced at Sehun, who was looking at him weirdly. “Sorry,” he said curtly, and stood up. He looked over to the table at the back, but the man’s seat was empty.
Had he hallucinated? It might have been the effects he’d been warned about - phenomena of the Northern gateways that nobody understood. Insanity and worse had fallen on so many before him, but Chanyeol had never cared. They’d always said he would pay for his rashness.
But it couldn’t be. His mind was too alert for this to be a hallucination - those were sluggish, fluid and confusing. He’d experienced them enough to be able to tell. Chanyeol struggled to calm himself down, and scanned the area again. The man was walking, alone, out the back doors of the hall. There was no mistaking that figure.
Baekhyun. He’d seen the image of him a million times over, dredged up from the depths of his subconscious. But this was him, in the flesh.
Chanyeol’s first instinct was to run over, to grab him and tell him that he was here, he’d come back. But Baekhyun wasn’t the same man he’d loved five years ago. He’d been wiped. The Baekhyun of five years ago had come to him only because he’d wanted a one-night stand with someone who’d be leaving for so far away that there was no chance of blowing his cover.
Baekhyun certainly wouldn’t recognise him, and most probably wouldn’t even like him. Could he deal with that? Could he look into Baekhyun’s eyes, could he face the other man, knowing that although he loved him beyond all reason, the other man didn’t care for him at all?
Baekhyun was already out of sight. Chanyeol turned around and headed in the opposite direction, to the bathroom, and splashed his heated face with water. His face in the mirror was flushed, sweaty, foreign to him. He’d spent most of his life establishing control - over his friends, society, his family, his own destiny - and he was good at it. He could command many things: respect, fear, subordination, compliance. Now he was faced with the one thing that mattered most, and it was completely out of his hands.
Caught up in his internal struggle, he failed to notice that someone else had entered the bathroom.
“Why didn’t you go after him?”
Chanyeol looked up. Junmyeon was standing next to him in front of the sinks.
“I had him invited here, you know,” Junmyeon continued when Chanyeol didn’t respond. “I recommended him to Jongin, telling him to hire this singer for the pre-reception. I thought you’d be happy to see him.”
Chanyeol was quiet. Junmyeon waited a while, before sighing. “Why are you here, Chanyeol?”
“I can’t,” Chanyeol finally said. He refused to meet Junmyeon’s eyes. “He doesn’t know me, Junmyeon.”
Junmyeon listened, then considered his words for a moment. “Do you remember when you came running into my office and threatened me with my life?”
Chanyeol remembered. It had been just after Baekhyun’s performance at the state ceremony. He’d barged into Junmyeon’s office completely unannounced, demanding to know whether the division planned on honouring its agreement with Baekhyun. He’d even threatened to have Junmyeon personally exiled if the terms weren’t met.
“What happened to that man? The man who always got what he wanted, no matter the means.”
Chanyeol shook his head. “This is different. There’s no way to force him to care for me.”
“This isn’t about force, Chanyeol. It’s about being brave and chasing what you want. I know you’re afraid, but you’re armed with sincerity. This is a man who was deeply in love with you at one point in time. It’s more than likely to happen again.”
“But what if it doesn’t?” He felt pathetic, even as the words were coming out of his mouth.
Junmyeon gave him a hard stare. “Listen to the advice you used to give, and don’t let the thought of failure cross your mind. You won’t get many more chances like this, Chanyeol. Go after him.”
Junmyeon straightened up, clapped him on the back, and headed out. Once more, Chanyeol was alone.
It’s about being brave and chasing what you want. Chanyeol thought back to another time, what felt like worlds away, breaking down in a speakeasy in the early hours of the morning. He’d been unable to reach out to the man that occupied most of his waking thought. He’d been accused of being a coward. He thought of a bright, rectangular smile that was all teeth and bold laughter. He thought of the man who had inspired him to throw aside his reservations, to let his guard down and pursue real happiness, no matter how fleeting.
Chanyeol ran out of the bathroom and straight back to the wedding hall. The reception was over and it was almost empty, with only a few of the couple’s family members still lingering behind. He turned and headed down the stairs into the main lobby of the hotel, towards the reception.
“I need to know which room Mr Byun Baekhyun is occupying,” Chanyeol panted.
“I’m sorry sir, we can’t disclose those details.”
Chanyeol groaned, running a hand through his hair. He mentally ran through his options. “I’m with Kim Jongin, alright? He’s the one that booked us all into the hotel.”
The receptionist looked skeptical. “Do you have any identification?”
Chanyeol pulled out his cardholder, rifling through it. “Need me to take a handprint? What form of ID do you need?”
The receptionist clicked through several files on his screen, and then looked back at Chanyeol. “I’m sorry, sir. Kim Jongin didn’t list anyone as his co-host. I can’t authorise you.”
Fuck this shit. “Look, I’m wearing a fucking tuxedo. Not because I wanted to, but because I was the best man at my friend’s wedding today.” Chanyeol bit out his words through gritted teeth. “I came back, quite literally, from the gates of hell to look for this man - whom I’ve been waiting to meet for five fucking years. So give me his room number right now or you can kiss this job goodbye.”
“Yes, sir.” The receptionist looked down at his records, and scrolled. Chanyeol tapped his fingers on the counter impatiently. “He’s in room 4.”
Chanyeol took off without bothering to thank the guy. It was five in the afternoon and most people would be back in their rooms. He raced down the stairs to the first floor and found the door right next to the pool. Chanyeol took a deep breath and knocked.
Nobody answered.
He knocked again, with more force, then tried the handle. Locked. No response.
Chanyeol waited outside the door for someone to answer it. He waited for ten minutes, fifteen, thirty.
An hour passed. The sun went down. And finally, after close to ninety minutes, Chanyeol gave up and headed back to his room.
***
As usual, he made his appearance at night.
Chanyeol was dragged, almost forcibly, to the luau. Jongin came barging into his suite with a lei and straw hat. “I don’t care if you don’t feel like dancing. It’s my party and you’re going to be there. You owe me this much.”
But when Chanyeol finally arrived (hatless and lei-less), there, sitting at the bar with a tropical cocktail, was Baekhyun. He was alone, seemingly content with watching the dancers, but Chanyeol knew that he would much prefer to be out on the floor partying with the rest.
As he approached, Baekhyun regarded him with clear brown eyes. Chanyeol extended a hand. “Park Chanyeol.”
Baekhyun smiled amicably and shook it. There wasn’t a trace of recognition in his face. “Byun Baekhyun.” The familiarity of his voice, his manner, tugged at Chanyeol’s heartstrings.
“Bride or groom?” Chanyeol asked as casually as he could, sitting down next to him.
“Neither,” Baekhyun said. “I sang at the pre-reception, and they invited me out of courtesy. I don't actually know a single person here, but I’m stuck on this island till tomorrow anyway.”
“They didn’t invite you to bring a plus one? Not very courteous of them.”
“I wanted to bring my boyfriend, but he’s busy and didn’t have time to come.” Chanyeol was still processing the words when Baekhyun laughed. “I don’t have a plus one, if that’s what you’re asking.” The man was as annoyingly perceptive as ever. “I’ve heard about you, you know,” Baekhyun continued nonchalantly, and Chanyeol threw him a sidelong glance. “Don’t act like you're shocked, you were part of the first team to ever return from the North. I thought getting assigned there was considered nothing short of a death sentence. It was amazing, what you guys did.”
Chanyeol shrugged. “I’m an exceptional individual.” And he’d had nothing to lose. He helped himself to one of the complimentary cocktails on the bar counter.
“You seem like one.” Chanyeol turned to look at Baekhyun, surprised. The intensity of Baekhyun’s gaze sent a jolt through Chanyeol’s entire being. It was as though he was pinning Chanyeol to the spot, rendering him unable to move or even look away. “I’ll bet you have many stories to tell.”
His words were spoken lightly, but they carried gravity.
He could tell Baekhyun about their journey to the gateways of Svalbard, and what they’d overcome to reach their opening. What lay beyond was still a secret, but maybe someday he’d be able to tell all that he’d seen.
And if possible, he could tell Baekhyun that he knew what the man had been through. He could tell Baekhyun about the first time they’d watched the sunrise together, out at the defunct lighthouse, and all the other sunrises they’d shared after that. He’d tell about the time they went driving into the night sky, when they’d spent a night together aboard an airship, when they’d met under the aurora in the middle of the ocean. He wouldn’t be able to explain everything, but if Baekhyun had trusted enough to tell him then, he could trust Baekhyun enough to tell him now.
One step at a time. They were no longer unhappy. No longer in transit, no longer looking for something the world could not offer, no longer torn between chasing impossible dreams and giving themselves a shot at happiness. The lost soul and the long-suffering one were gone. Still damaged, perhaps - but healing.
They couldn’t change the world, but they could live one day at a time. There could be a future in each other’s eyes.
“It could take a while,” Chanyeol said finally. There was so much to say, and so much he couldn’t.
Baekhyun’s answering smile was radiant. “Good thing I’ve got all night.”
Chanyeol took his hand. The sun would be up in a few hours, but this time he wasn’t letting go.