On This Planet Spinning (14/23)
On This Planet Spinning
aka post-apocalypse au, aka painfic
Pairings:[Spoiler (click to open)]Baekxing, Xiuhan, Chansoo (+Chanyeol/Plant)
Genre: post-apocalypse, fantasy, drama, romance
Rating: R
Length: 137K total
Warnings: mature themes, violence/injury, some possibly disturbing imagery, threat of death, poor mental health, very brief mentions of suicidal ideation(?), sad times
Summary: Over a century after meteors destroyed Earth, making the surface uninhabitable, communities are returning from their bunkers and attempting to recolonize the planet. But resources are scarce, tensions are high, and neighbouring communities X-22 and Q-16 are fighting tooth and nail over the Valley, a rare patch of fertile land. Add to that a controversial group of humans with special abilities, and people will start to realize it's not the coming winter that's humanity's biggest obstacle-it's humanity itself. But that doesn't mean hope doesn't exist.
Chapter links: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23
*****
On the night of the harvest celebration, for the first time in a month and a half, Kyungsoo is given the evening off so that he can partake in the festivities. And he’s grateful, he really is. He hasn’t been able to spend a lot of time with his friends and family in ages. It’s nice to sit down with everyone for supper, to talk to people, to laugh and listen to music and relax for a while. He hangs out with Seulgi, which hasn’t happened in a long time, and he chats with his parents, which hasn’t happened in even longer. He sits down with Sehun and Jongin, gets to know the paranormal boy a little outside of the context of Jongin berating him for not taking better care of Chanyeol. He’s a sweet kid, and Sehun seems to really like him, so Kyungsoo is happy.
Jongin gets a little thank you from the community, actually, along with Minseok. Boa stands up at the edge of the community center and singles them out, thanks them for aiding in the growing process when Joonmyun and Yixing were not able. The majority of the community still seems iffy about the whole paranormal thing, uncomfortable and uncertain, but they all clap and cheer, and Jongin blushes as Minseok ruffles his hair. It’s cute. Sehun whoops right in Kyungsoo’s ear.
But as the evening wears on, Kyungsoo grows increasingly restless and antsy. He’s not used to spending evenings off duty. The party continues into the night, but Kyungsoo’s heart isn’t in it. He was only told when he woke up for work that Joohyun would be taking over part of his evening shift so that he could spend some time celebrating, which means he couldn’t tell Chanyeol in advance. All evening, it’s been at the back of his mind. What if Joohyun didn’t let him know? What if he thinks Kyungsoo is abandoning him?
What if he’s lonely?
“Hey, Sehun,” he says, nudging his brother’s arm. “I’m gonna go take over Joohyun’s shift, okay?”
Sehun turns away from his conversation with Jongin to pout. “But you don’t have to go until midnight. You have hours left still.”
“Yeah, but she’s working and Seulgi is here. Wouldn’t that be depressing? She should be with her partner.” Kyungsoo shrugs, tries to sell it with a smile as he pushes himself to his feet. “I’ve had my fun. Now she can have hers.”
Sehun sighs, but nods. “I guess.”
“I’ll see you in the morning, or when I wake up,” Kyungsoo says, scratching Sehun’s scalp lightly. He nods towards Jongin. “Have a nice night.”
“We will,” Jongin says, looking flustered as usual whenever anyone pays any attention to him. “Say hi to-” he pauses, looks around, lowers his voice, “-Chanyeol for me.”
Kyungsoo snorts. It’s a good thing no one’s bothering to listen to their conversation, because Jongin isn’t subtle at all. “Will do. See you two.” He reaches out, pats Jongin’s head as well, then picks his way through the crowd and out of the community center, saying his goodnights to people he’s close with as he passes by them.
As he makes his way through the community towards Chanyeol’s workshop (prison, he has to remind himself bitterly), Kyungsoo feels his eagerness to see him rise. The community center had been bursting with life and laughter, but the rest of the community is dark and empty, silent except for the lingering sounds of music and chatter. He imagines Chanyeol sitting alone in the dark, listening at his door, and he starts walking faster.
Joohyun is leaning against the wall just outside the door, looking tired and miserable, and Kyungsoo smiles slightly. He really does feel bad for her, too, so he gets great pleasure from sneaking up on her and whispering, “Your beloved awaits you.”
Joohyun flails in surprise, then spots him and beams. “Oh my god! Thank you so much. You’re the best. You are my favourite.”
“Go, people are still dancing. Seulgi’s pining.”
Joohyun hugs him briefly, slaps the key into his hands, then literally takes off running in the direction Kyungsoo had come from. Kyungsoo snorts as he watches her go, then approaches the door with just a little hesitation. “Chanyeol…?”
There’s a rustle from within the darkness-Chanyeol’s lamp isn’t on-and then a voice croaks, “Kyungsoo?”
Kyungsoo smiles slightly. “Were you asleep? And here I thought you might be missing me…”
“Kyungsoo, oh my god.” The rustling intensifies, and Kyungsoo winces, thinking about Chanyeol’s poor healing leg. “Where were you? It started getting late and you didn’t bring my supper and-”
“Hey, shhh,” Kyungsoo soothes, unlocking the door and letting himself in. “Where are you? Where’s your light?”
There’s a brief scuffle, and the light clicks on, dim and yellow and illuminating Chanyeol’s dirty, somewhat sunken cheeks, his tired, wide eyes. He looks up at Kyungsoo from the floor, almost disbelieving. “Where were you?” he asks, and his voice is raspy, as if this is the first time he’s used it all day.
Kyungsoo swallows hard as he sits down on the floor across from him. “My shift started late because of the party, they didn’t give me the chance to tell you. I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier.”
Chanyeol shakes his head, blinking exhaustion from his eyes as he says, “No, no, it’s okay. I’m just...happy to see you.” He fidgets constantly where he sits, fiddles with his bandages, scratches his head, rubs his arm with the opposite hand-his good hand. Kyungsoo wants to reach out and hold him still, hold onto him until he relaxes.
“I wish I had thought to bring you something to eat.” Kyungsoo sighs heavily. “There were roasted potatoes, but they were all gone. Still, I could have brought you something else. Some friend I am.”
Chanyeol stares at him for a long, silent moment, and then he seems to snap out of it and says, “What were you celebrating?”
“Hm? Oh, the harvest. It’s not the end of the growing season yet, but the Growers just finished harvesting and preserving a lot of stuff, so the community decided to have a little party. It was nice. There was music, and everyone got to enjoy their evening.” Kyungsoo smiles, leans back on his hands. He feels like Chanyeol needs more opportunities to hear casual conversation in his life. Still, it seems unfair to talk about what a nice day he’d been having when Chanyeol has been stuck here, all alone. “How are you feeling today? How’s progress?”
“I’m alright. Progress is alright. I opened a new compartment in the puzzle box by accident.” Chanyeol seems more interested in staring at Kyungsoo like he’s a ghost than talking.
“Oh yeah? You’re alright?” Kyungsoo holds out his hand. “Let me see that battle wound.”
Chanyeol places his hand in Kyungsoo’s without argument and without taking his eyes off his face. “It’s getting better. I can use it for holding things as long as I don’t have to grip too hard. Infection’s gone away, I think.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way,” Kyungsoo says, peeling off his bandages. “These are filthy. Didn’t Joohyun bring you fresh ones?”
Chanyeol squirms. “She did. But I didn’t put them on yet.”
“No?” Kyungsoo looks up into his face. “Should I do it?”
Chanyeol nods, chewing on his lip, so Kyungsoo moves away to pick up the clean strips of cloth to bind Chanyeol’s wound.
“This is definitely looking better,” he comments as the old bandages fall away. He pokes at the skin around the scab, wincing apologetically when Chanyeol hisses through his teeth. The infection does indeed seem to be gone, at least for now, and the inflammation has gone down, and the skin is beginning to knit back together. Kyungsoo feels relieved, running the pad of his thumb along the unbroken skin next to the cut. He chuckles a little when Chanyeol shivers in response-his touch is probably ticklish. “Keep this as clean as possible, alright?” he says as he wraps the new bandages around it. “Ask for more water if you have to. I don’t want it to get re-infected.”
Chanyeol is staring at him again. Kyungsoo’s kind of just gotten used to it. “Okay,” he says obediently.
“Did you have an alright day?” Kyungsoo asks eventually, after he’s done with Chanyeol’s hand and has let him retract it. “You know, just...in general?”
Chanyeol shrugs. “It was the same as always.”
Kyungsoo smiles up at him ruefully, opens his mouth to say something, then stops as he notices something dark on Chanyeol’s temple. “Is that blood? What happened?”
“What?” Chanyeol stares at him, confused. “Where?”
“Here.” Kyungsoo leans in, reaches out to place a hand on Chanyeol’s cheek to tilt his face to the side to get a better look. At his sudden touch, Chanyeol inhales sharply, and his hand flies to his face. Kyungsoo begins to jerk away, thinking he’s done something wrong, but to his surprise Chanyeol’s hand lands on top of his, pressing it to his skin.
For a moment, everything is very still and silent. Chanyeol’s eyes are round, stunned, and Kyungsoo thinks his probably match. “Sorry,” Chanyeol says dumbly, but he doesn’t move his hand. His fingers tighten briefly around Kyungsoo’s-reflexively-and then relax. “I didn’t-”
“It’s okay,” Kyungsoo says softly, and Chanyeol’s hand falls away. The back of Kyungsoo’s feels cool with the sudden loss. He moves his fingers slowly to rub at the dried blood on Chanyeol’s temple. “What happened…?”
“What?” Chanyeol looks like he doesn’t even remember what they’d been talking about for a few seconds. “Oh. I think I nicked it on one of the blades. I was under there...well. Fixing.”
Kyungsoo clucks his tongue in a way that strikes him afterwards as unnervingly matronly. “You should be more careful. You have enough things working against you. You don’t need more injuries.”
Chanyeol’s lips twitch. “I’m always getting myself hurt. I’m a walking hazard.”
Kyungsoo has to chuckle at that. He pulls his hand away from Chanyeol’s face and sees Chanyeol’s fingers flex in his lap in reaction. “I’m glad you’re making jokes again. It’s more like you.”
“I knew you liked my jokes.” Chanyeol’s smile grows slightly.
“I never said I liked them. I said I liked that you were making them. It’s different.” Kyungsoo grins. “Things have been really hard for you recently. I’m glad they’re looking up a little.”
Chanyeol looks at the ground, hunches his shoulders. “They’re still hard for me.”
“I know.” Kyungsoo swallows thickly. “I hope I’ve been helping at least a little.”
Chanyeol looks up at him sharply. “Kyungsoo. You’ve been- You’ve saved me.”
His earnest appreciation isn’t as gratifying as Kyungsoo might have thought. Sometimes, it just makes him feel worse. “I’m doing what I can,” he says. “You know that, right? I’m doing everything I can.”
“You are?” Chanyeol asks.
It’s an innocent enough question. Chanyeol is alone, he’s scared, he’s desperate. He wants to think someone’s watching out for him. He wants reassurance.
But it still hurts. It reminds Kyungsoo of everything he can’t do for Chanyeol. “Everything that won’t get you killed and me kicked out of the community,” he says, because he does want to be honest. “I swear.”
Chanyeol smiles, sweet and grateful, and it makes Kyungsoo’s heart clench. “I know,” he says. “Thank you.”
Kyungsoo has to look away. “If you ever need something, ask me, okay?”
Silence hangs between them, and Kyungsoo forces himself to look back up at Chanyeol. He’s staring again, eyes unblinking in the yellow glow of the lamp, vibrating with pent-up energy. He’s clearly holding something back.
“What?” Kyungsoo asks, concerned. “What is it?”
Chanyeol’s throat bobs. “Kyungsoo, could you-” He stops, takes a deep breath. “Could you hold my hand?”
“What?” Now it’s Kyungsoo turn to stare.
Chanyeol laughs a little, embarrassed and self-deprecating, and he ducks his head. “It’s stupid,” he mutters. “But I think I’ll go crazy if nobody holds my goddamn hand. Just one time. Just for...for five minutes.”
Kyungsoo’s chest hurts, like someone’s squeezing his ribs in a vice. Without speaking-what can he say?-he holds out his hand, waits for Chanyeol to notice it. When he does, he looks up with shocked eyes, disbelieving but hopeful. Kyungsoo forces a smile, nods towards it. “Are you going to hold it or what?”
Chanyeol’s good hand is shooting out in a split second, fingers linking with Kyungsoo’s, folding them together. His palm is warm-Chanyeol is always warm-and his hand is much larger than Kyungsoo’s, much rougher, but they fit together just fine. Kyungsoo squeezes it instinctively.
Chanyeol looks like he’s going to cry, but he doesn’t, smiling shakily instead. “Thank you,” he says softly.
“Chanyeol, this is honestly the least I can do,” Kyungsoo says past a brand new lump in his throat. He forces a joking tone. “Just don’t let the people in charge see.”
“Should we turn this off, then?” Without letting go, Chanyeol reaches out with one long arm, switches off the lamp so that they fall into darkness again.
Kyungsoo chuckles. “Seems a little weird, holding hands in the dark, but alright, if you want.”
Chanyeol sighs. “It’s super weird, isn’t it.”
“Of course it is.” Kyungsoo laughs, squeezes his hand again. “But who cares? I mean, all of my superiors definitely would, but we just won’t tell them.”
“I’m making you uncomfortable,” Chanyeol says, sounding miserable.
“Chanyeol, it’s fine. I really don’t mind.” Kyungsoo searches the dark for his face. “Do you want to sit closer to the door, where there’s a little moonlight?”
Chanyeol does, so they maneuver over that way, stumbling and crawling as necessary. They sit down on the pavement in front of the barred door, where the darkness is a little less absolute. Here, as his eyes adjust, Kyungsoo can see Chanyeol’s face, the way he looks at Kyungsoo and at their joined hands. His grip hasn’t loosened for even a second.
Kyungsoo looks away, looks out the door at the sky above them. “Beautiful night,” he says quietly, pretending not to feel the way Chanyeol’s hand trembles ever so slightly. “So many stars out.”
Chanyeol hums in agreement, but Kyungsoo doesn’t know if he’s actually looking.
“Tell me about your plant,” Kyungsoo says. “The one that grew from the seed I gave you.”
“You want to hear about that?”
Kyungsoo shrugs. “Yeah. I’m curious. What does it look like? How fast did it grow? You know I stole that seed, right?”
“What?” Kyungsoo only notices Chanyeol’s thumb had been mindlessly stroking the back of his hand when he stops.
“Yeah. Back then, during the first surfacing, my mom was a scavenger, and I went with. Found that seed in some clothes we found at an abandoned camp-someone who had already went back underground, I guess. I stole the seed when she wasn’t looking and gave it to you.” Kyungsoo smiles at the memory. “I was bad at following rules even back then, I guess.”
“I’ve been raising a stolen plant all this time…” Chanyeol mutters.
Kyungsoo laughs quietly. “I guess so. It was a nice gift, though, right?”
Chanyeol hums his agreement. “It’s a she, actually.”
“A she?” Kyungsoo looks at him, isn’t surprised to see Chanyeol staring back. “It’s a girl plant?”
Chanyeol smiles. “Well, I say so.”
It pulls a snort out of Kyungsoo. “Alright then. What does she look like?”
“Last I saw? Stalky. Leafy. Green. I wonder if Yifan’s pruning her?”
“Who’s Yifan?”
Chanyeol sighs. “My friend. I told him to look after the plant if...anything happened to me. I hope he is.”
Kyungsoo squeezes his hand tight. “I’m sure he is.”
Chanyeol just shrugs, looking morose.
With a sigh, Kyungsoo nudges him, nods up at the sky. “Almost full moon,” he says. “Work anymore on that story about the werewolf and his dog?”
“Constantly,” Chanyeol replies immediately-Kyungsoo assumes it’s a lie. “You’re speaking to Earth’s first post-apocalyptic author right here. I refuse to give up that title.”
“Tell me about it.”
“You’re not going to wait until it’s finished? I don’t want to spoil the ending.”
Kyungsoo smiles. “It’s not spoiling if you tell me the whole story, right here.”
Chanyeol hesitates. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” Kyungsoo adjusts his grip on Chanyeol’s hand, makes himself comfortable. “I’ve got all night.”
When he looks at Chanyeol, it’s to see a smile that’s bright even in the darkness. “Alright. Bear with me, it’s the first draft.”
Chanyeol falls asleep in the middle of a sentence, his fingers still interlocked with Kyungsoo’s. It’s probably bad-probably very bad-but Kyungsoo doesn’t feel all that much like letting go.
***
In general, Jongin’s days go like this: wake up, eat breakfast with Sehun, spend the morning alternatingly practicing his control and resting, eat lunch with Sehun, spend the afternoon practicing and/or actively working in the fields with Minseok, eat supper with Sehun, and then hang out with Sehun or work some more with Minseok in the evening. Occasionally, of course, this routine differs. Some days Minseok comes at different times, depending on his own work schedule. Some days Jongin isn’t up in time to eat breakfast with everyone else. Sometimes Sehun is late to lunch. Recently he’s been working in the evenings as well, replanting the fields. But for the most part, Jongin knows what to expect of his day.
He does not expect things like Sehun showing up at his house in the late morning, looking oddly ashen and embarrassed, to ask if he wants to hang out for a little while.
“What are you doing here?” Jongin asks in surprise. “I thought the Growers were, you know, really really busy. Like, frantic.” Sehun had been groaning at breakfast in the morning, his feet and back still sore from the previous day’s work.
“Oh, yeah, they are,” Sehun says, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. Something’s not right about the energy coming off of him-something’s cold-sour, sickly-sour. Jongin’s felt it before, but never this strongly. “I wasn’t feeling well, though, so they sent me home to rest…”
“You’re sick?” Jongin clambers to his feet immediately, concerned. “What’s wrong? Do you need to lie down?”
“I’m fine! I’m fine, really.” Sehun gives a weak smile. “Just, um. I just wanted to maybe. Hang out a while.”
Jongin frowns, taking a step closer. “Sehun, you’re putting out all sorts of pain and anxiety signals. What’s going on?” He reaches out mentally, just a little. “Your head’s bad. Headache?”
Sehun looks away, running a hand through his hair, rubbing his palm over his forehead self-consciously. “It’s nothing…”
“It’s obviously not nothing if they sent you home early for it.” Jongin ducks his head, squinting. “Is that dirt on your chin or a bruise?”
Sehun chews on his lip. “Probably both?”
Horror courses through Jongin’s body. “Did someone hit you?”
“No! Of course not.” Sehun hesitates, then sighs. “I just. I had another seizure.”
“Another...what?” Jongin blinks dumbly at him.
Sehun’s face crumples slightly. “Can we sit down? I’m really tired.”
“Of course, god, sorry. Here, come sit on my bed.”
Once they’re seated and comfortable, Jongin watches in silence as Sehun draws slow, deep breaths, obviously trying to relax himself. He’s tense and nervous and clearly trying not to show how upset he is, and Jongin feels bad for being part of the cause of that, but he really wants to know what’s going on. The closer Sehun is to him, the more strongly Jongin can feel all the bad things coursing through his body. Most of it is concentrated in his head, but his whole body thrums with negative feelings, aches and pains and fear and misery. “Sehun, what’s wrong?”
Sehun lets out a slow breath. “It’s just. When I was a kid-really young-during the first resurfacing-I got really really sick. I don’t know if it was the plague or something similar. My parents both died from the plague, so it was probably that. Anyway, the infection spread to my brain, I guess. I got better...obviously...but there was scarring in my brain. When I was sick, I had really bad seizures. And even after I got better, I kept having them. Really bad when I was young, but as I grew up they went away. And I...I hadn’t had any in a long time. The first time I had a seizure in years was during that first battle as a soldier. I guess it was triggered by all the stress? I don’t handle stress well.” Sehun’s face is red, embarrassed, and he rubs his arm over his eyes. “So I got transferred to Growing duty. And that was fine. But whenever things get really hectic and I have to work all day and don’t sleep enough, I just...my brain can’t handle it, or something. This is the second time it’s happened.” He flushes, looking ashamed.
Jongin stares at him in shock. “I had no idea.”
“Yeah, I don’t really like to tell people,” Sehun mutters, staring at the ground. “It’s embarrassing.”
“It’s embarrassing that something you had no control over is now giving you seizures?” Jongin asks, incredulous.
Sehun just shrugs. “I’m weak. And pitiful. People don’t like talking about it, either, because we barely know anything about it and there’s nothing we can do about it anyway. When I have a seizure they just send me home so they don’t have to deal with it.”
Jongin lets out a slow breath. “Can I look at your head?”
“What?” Sehun gives him an odd look.
“Well, I mean, not actually look, but. You know, I can sense energies and...stuff. Do you mind if I look into your head a little? I want to see what I can figure out about it.”
Sehun looks momentarily wary, which makes Jongin feel even more pleased when he eventually says, “Yeah, sure.” Sehun trusts him, so much that he doesn’t even ask questions. That means a lot to Jongin.
“Put your head in my lap,” Jongin requests, shifting so that Sehun can stretch out along his bed. When he does, Jongin rests his palms on Sehun’s skull and closes his eyes, concentrating. When there are a lot of signals coming off a person, it can be hard to differentiate between them, but like this, so close to Sehun’s brain, it’s almost overwhelming.
In his mind’s eye, there’s cold, black matter in patches in Sehun’s brain. There’s lots and lots of other energy, too. So much happens in the brain-it’s no wonder. He can feel all the anxiety, the exhaustion, the frustration, the embarrassment. But the sickness-that stands out. Jongin can pinpoint where it’s coming from easily, could probably trace the scarring in his brain because bad feelings virtually radiate from it. It’s likely only this strong because Sehun just had a seizure. Jongin’s definitely never felt this around him before, not like this. Right now, Sehun feels sick. Like the infection never truly went away, like remnants of it still lingered, the way energy lingers in pockets under the dead earth.
Jongin feels it. It’s black, vicious, bitter. It wants to choke out life. Good energy is always fighting back, though. Jongin knows this. It can’t always win, but it’s strong in Sehun. It doesn’t let the sickness spread. When Sehun is tired, when he’s weak and overworked and stressed out, the good energy inside him can’t work at optimum power, can’t stop the sickness from playing tricks with his brain. But as he rests, the good energy takes over again, tries its best to heal him. But it hasn’t healed completely, in all these years. The sickness is rooted deep, stubborn.
It feels so tangible in Jongin’s mind, though, like a mass of black matter nestled inside Sehun’s brain. He feels like he could reach out, draw it out, let it flow into him. But it’s so cold. So cruel. He’s scared, but at the same time eager. He’s never done anything like this before. But he wonders if he should try.
“I need to get Minseok,” he says. “Sehun, do you want to fix this permanently?”
“What? I don’t know if that’s possible, Jongin…”
Jongin stares down at him, his gaze hard. “I don’t know, either, but I think it’s a good idea to find out.”
Sehun’s throat bobs as he swallows. “Well. Okay.”
Jongin grins.
It takes Jongin a while to convince Minseok to agree to his plan. “Jongin, are you crazy? Do you remember when we destroyed a whole garden trying something new?” He’s whispering fiercely, glancing over his shoulder at his fellow Builders, who are working maybe ten meters away. Not that they’d be able to hear Minseok and Jongin over the sound of their hammering.
“This is different!” Jongin spots Minseok’s friend Luhan glancing their way, but puts him out of his mind for the time being. Minseok always tells him to stay away from Luhan anyway. “This is...it’s different, Minseok. And we’ve learned a lot of stuff! We’re good now!”
“We’re not good. We think we’re helping plants grow. And neither of us cries anymore. Are you sure that’s good enough to heal a person?”
“Can’t we just try it, Minseok?” Jongin asks pitifully. “How are we supposed to get better if we don’t try new things?”
“Maybe we shouldn’t try new things on a person,” Minseok says with a roll of his eyes. “I know you’d like to help your little friend-”
Jongin’s chest goes tight and hot with anger. “Don’t you dare belittle him, Minseok. He is a person. He is my friend, and if you haven’t noticed, I don’t really have a lot of those. And he is struggling, okay? He’s upset and hurting and I want to help him because I know I can. We can. Together. If you would just try.”
Minseok stares at him, taken aback, and then he smiles a little. “Look at you, all grown up and fighting for the greater good.”
Jongin tries to scowl through a helpless twitch of his lips. “Not funny, Minseok.”
“A little funny. Fine, fine, I’ll give it a go. But if someone gets hurt, I am not taking responsibility. Okay?” He lifts his eyebrows.
“Alright. I’ll see you after lunch.”
Minseok grins, ruffles his hair roughly, and then walks back to his spot to continue working.
Sehun’s waiting a little way off, twisting his hands together nervously. “What’d he say? You looked mad.”
“He said he’ll do it,” Jongin says, beaming. He reaches out, takes Sehun’s hand. “Come on, you can rest until lunchtime. Just relax, okay? It’ll be fine.”
It’s, well. It’s not really fine. Jongin tries his very best, he really does. He has Sehun sit between Minseok and himself on the floor of his house, and he goes through his theories quickly. “Okay, first we’re going to try the normal way of doing this, the same way we deal with plants. Push good energy in, to promote healing. If that doesn’t work… This stuff, it feels a lot like raw energy, except, you know, way worse. It’s pretty strong, but there’s not too much of it. So I’m going to try to draw it into myself the same way I do with normal energy, and I’ll pass it into Minseok, and Minseok will...turn it into something tangible so I can push it away. I guess. If I don’t have Minseok change it, it’ll just flow back to its natural state, which is inside your brain. That’s what I’m guessing, at least.” He tries to smile encouragingly.
“That’s a lot of guesses, Jongin,” Sehun says nervously.
Jongin flaps his hand. “Nothing bad will happen,” he says, coming off as much more confident than he feels. But that’s okay. That’s good. He doesn’t want anyone to be nervous. That’ll just distract him, and make it more likely that something bad will happen. But it won’t.
“So, the same old?” Minseok asks. He looks wary, but vaguely intrigued. The possible uses for this ability, if they can figure it out, are undoubtedly not lost on him.
“For now,” Jongin affirms with a nod.
So they try it, and it’s a complete flop. Jongin tries his hardest to feed just the right amount of energy into Minseok, so that it’s not overwhelming but still pushing him. Minseok’s face twists up in concentration as he transforms it, and Jongin can feel when it clicks, can feel the rightness of it when the healing energy flows back into his body. He pushes it into Sehun, directly into his head, targeting the black spots of sickness. But it’s useless. It’s too weak, it’s not nearly enough. Jongin feels like they’d need a dozen sorcerer-conjurer pairs working at the same time to make a dent in it, and even then, maybe it would be impossible. The black matter is solid, strong, resilient. It fights.
“Okay,” he gasps, coming out of it. “So that’s a no-go.”
“Yeah,” Minseok agrees, shaking his head, eyes squeezed shut. Jongin knows the level of concentration needed for the task always gives him a headache. It does to Jongin, too, but he’s used to it.
“So it won’t work?” Sehun asks. He looks stunned, a little scared, but unscathed. Jongin is...really proud, actually. Of Minseok and himself.
“Not this way,” Jongin says. “So we’re going to try the other way.”
And this is the scary part. This is something Jongin has never tried before, has never dared to attempt. The sickness in Sehun’s brain feels so dangerous, so cruel, and Jongin is going to have to reach out, draw that into his own body. He doesn’t think it’ll affect him. But how should he know? No one ever told him about this, never taught him what to do in these circumstances.
Drawing a deep breath, he reaches out, wary and uncertain. He feels the sickness, the black energy, and carefully, he opens the channels to let it flow into him.
In a split second, it’s flooding into him, painfully, and Jongin yelps, immediately overwhelmed. This sickness is not like the energy under the ground. It’s vicious, it actively wants to hurt, to take over. Jongin gasps as it fills his body, all-consuming and destructive.
And then, without trying, energy from the ground starts to flow into him to meet it, like an automatic reaction-good trying its best to fight against evil. A natural counterbalance, a battle happening inside Jongin’s body. Both energies build and build, until Jongin feels like he’s going to explode-neither can win, not like this, so they’re just growing inside him, too large for his body to handle.
Not knowing what else he can possibly do, Jongin starts to push both into Minseok’s body, the slowest, steadiest stream he can manage-it’s still too much in his panicked state. Minseok swears loudly, says something, but Jongin can’t hear him over the rushing in his ears. “Do something!” he yells. “Do something with them!”
At the edge of his consciousness, Jongin can feel Minseok transforming the energies-can feel Minseok forcing the black energy into a condensed mass, wrapping the raw energy around it in the form of something healing. Still, neither can win, but it feels like he’s locking the bad energy away. When it starts to slip back into Jongin’s body, it feels manageable, like the healing energy is a barrier between himself and the sickness, like a cloth wrapped around a fire-hot handle.
But the barrier is too weak, too patchy, and Jongin is too overwhelmed to hold onto it anyway, wracked with pain and panic. Minseok is obviously struggling as well, swearing in a steady stream as he tries to deal with all the energy Jongin is pushing into him, and they can’t hold it. Jongin lets go abruptly, cuts off all channels, forces all the energy in his body out with the last of his strength. He collapses onto his back, gasping for breath, and vaguely hears Minseok in the background hissing, “Holy shit.”
“Guys?” comes Sehun’s voice, thin and nervous. “What happened?”
Honestly, Jongin doesn’t really feel up to talking right now. He feels wrung out and exhausted beyond belief, and his body throbs with residual pain, and he won’t lie and say that whole ordeal didn’t freak him out a little. But Sehun is scared, and he deserves an explanation. “It didn’t work,” he says, his tongue clumsy as he forms the words without opening his eyes or sitting up. “It was too much.”
“So you can’t fix it?” Sehun asks.
Minseok groans quietly. “Honestly, this is about how badly our first attempt at doubles voodoo went, too.” Jongin hears him shifting. “Was that normal, Jongin?”
“I don’t know,” Jongin says hazily. “I never saw anyone try it before.”
Minseok sighs. “We barely got any formal training before...well.” He’s talking to Sehun again. “So we have no clue what we’re doing or if this is possible. Maybe this is just some next level shit and we’re not capable of handling it yet.”
Jongin swallows thickly, finally manages to drag himself upright. Sehun is sitting on the floor between them, his face pale. “It seemed possible, though,” he says. “It was too much for us this time, but it still feels like something we could do. Don’t you think, Minseok?”
Minseok is lying on his back, too, but he slowly sits up to look at him wearily. “Honestly? Yeah. It doesn’t feel out of the realm of possibility. No more than anything else we’ve done, at least.”
Jongin grins tiredly, then sees the shaken look on Sehun’s face. “Hey, how are you feeling?”
Sehun shrugs. “My head hurts.”
“Yeah, that’s, uh, that’s probably normal?” Jongin has no idea, really. “This kind of...magic is a lot to handle.”
“I thought I was gonna die the first time,” Minseok offers.
“We should get some rest,” Jongin says. “We can’t work when we’re this tired. Minseok, meet me in a couple hours…?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Minseok mutters, curling up right there on the floor. “Wake me up when it’s time to work.”
Jongin smiles slightly. “It’d be comfier on the bed.”
Minseok waves his hand vaguely. “Thought you’d be taking it.”
“Hmm. True.” Jongin crawls toward his bed mat clumsily, letting himself flop into it and kicking off his shoes.
“Should I go home…?” Sehun asks uncertainly from his spot on the floor.
“Mmm. You can sleep here if you want.” Jongin pats the pillow next to his face. “Room for two, as long as you don’t kick.”
There’s a pause, and then Sehun says, “I’m good at bed-sharing.”
“Then come on. We’re all napping.”
There’s a shuffling noise, and a few seconds later Jongin feels Sehun lying down next to him on his bed, leaving a couple inches of space between them. Jongin smiles to himself. Delta-and all paranormal groups, as far as he knows-had been fond of sharing sleeping spaces, of sharing space. Jongin had been used to it, had enjoyed it. He’s missed it so much, since Joonmyun and Yixing were taken. This feels nice. Jongin had almost forgotten how badly he’d been longing for closeness.
“Are you going to try again?” Sehun asks quietly, just as Jongin is dropping off.
“Hmm? Think so...if you wanna,” Jongin says on a yawn.
“I think...I’d like to get better,” is Sehun’s soft reply.
“We’ll try again then,” Jongin says. “Later. For now...sleep.”
Sehun lets out a breathy chuckle. “Alright.”
If he says anything else, Jongin doesn’t hear it.
*****
NEXT>>
A/N: it's finally Christmas break, so I'll be able to answer comments again! :D \o/ hmu yall. i love you guys.
Find me on twitter, tumblr, and ask.fm!
aka post-apocalypse au, aka painfic
Pairings:[Spoiler (click to open)]Baekxing, Xiuhan, Chansoo (+Chanyeol/Plant)
Genre: post-apocalypse, fantasy, drama, romance
Rating: R
Length: 137K total
Warnings: mature themes, violence/injury, some possibly disturbing imagery, threat of death, poor mental health, very brief mentions of suicidal ideation(?), sad times
Summary: Over a century after meteors destroyed Earth, making the surface uninhabitable, communities are returning from their bunkers and attempting to recolonize the planet. But resources are scarce, tensions are high, and neighbouring communities X-22 and Q-16 are fighting tooth and nail over the Valley, a rare patch of fertile land. Add to that a controversial group of humans with special abilities, and people will start to realize it's not the coming winter that's humanity's biggest obstacle-it's humanity itself. But that doesn't mean hope doesn't exist.
Chapter links: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23
*****
On the night of the harvest celebration, for the first time in a month and a half, Kyungsoo is given the evening off so that he can partake in the festivities. And he’s grateful, he really is. He hasn’t been able to spend a lot of time with his friends and family in ages. It’s nice to sit down with everyone for supper, to talk to people, to laugh and listen to music and relax for a while. He hangs out with Seulgi, which hasn’t happened in a long time, and he chats with his parents, which hasn’t happened in even longer. He sits down with Sehun and Jongin, gets to know the paranormal boy a little outside of the context of Jongin berating him for not taking better care of Chanyeol. He’s a sweet kid, and Sehun seems to really like him, so Kyungsoo is happy.
Jongin gets a little thank you from the community, actually, along with Minseok. Boa stands up at the edge of the community center and singles them out, thanks them for aiding in the growing process when Joonmyun and Yixing were not able. The majority of the community still seems iffy about the whole paranormal thing, uncomfortable and uncertain, but they all clap and cheer, and Jongin blushes as Minseok ruffles his hair. It’s cute. Sehun whoops right in Kyungsoo’s ear.
But as the evening wears on, Kyungsoo grows increasingly restless and antsy. He’s not used to spending evenings off duty. The party continues into the night, but Kyungsoo’s heart isn’t in it. He was only told when he woke up for work that Joohyun would be taking over part of his evening shift so that he could spend some time celebrating, which means he couldn’t tell Chanyeol in advance. All evening, it’s been at the back of his mind. What if Joohyun didn’t let him know? What if he thinks Kyungsoo is abandoning him?
What if he’s lonely?
“Hey, Sehun,” he says, nudging his brother’s arm. “I’m gonna go take over Joohyun’s shift, okay?”
Sehun turns away from his conversation with Jongin to pout. “But you don’t have to go until midnight. You have hours left still.”
“Yeah, but she’s working and Seulgi is here. Wouldn’t that be depressing? She should be with her partner.” Kyungsoo shrugs, tries to sell it with a smile as he pushes himself to his feet. “I’ve had my fun. Now she can have hers.”
Sehun sighs, but nods. “I guess.”
“I’ll see you in the morning, or when I wake up,” Kyungsoo says, scratching Sehun’s scalp lightly. He nods towards Jongin. “Have a nice night.”
“We will,” Jongin says, looking flustered as usual whenever anyone pays any attention to him. “Say hi to-” he pauses, looks around, lowers his voice, “-Chanyeol for me.”
Kyungsoo snorts. It’s a good thing no one’s bothering to listen to their conversation, because Jongin isn’t subtle at all. “Will do. See you two.” He reaches out, pats Jongin’s head as well, then picks his way through the crowd and out of the community center, saying his goodnights to people he’s close with as he passes by them.
As he makes his way through the community towards Chanyeol’s workshop (prison, he has to remind himself bitterly), Kyungsoo feels his eagerness to see him rise. The community center had been bursting with life and laughter, but the rest of the community is dark and empty, silent except for the lingering sounds of music and chatter. He imagines Chanyeol sitting alone in the dark, listening at his door, and he starts walking faster.
Joohyun is leaning against the wall just outside the door, looking tired and miserable, and Kyungsoo smiles slightly. He really does feel bad for her, too, so he gets great pleasure from sneaking up on her and whispering, “Your beloved awaits you.”
Joohyun flails in surprise, then spots him and beams. “Oh my god! Thank you so much. You’re the best. You are my favourite.”
“Go, people are still dancing. Seulgi’s pining.”
Joohyun hugs him briefly, slaps the key into his hands, then literally takes off running in the direction Kyungsoo had come from. Kyungsoo snorts as he watches her go, then approaches the door with just a little hesitation. “Chanyeol…?”
There’s a rustle from within the darkness-Chanyeol’s lamp isn’t on-and then a voice croaks, “Kyungsoo?”
Kyungsoo smiles slightly. “Were you asleep? And here I thought you might be missing me…”
“Kyungsoo, oh my god.” The rustling intensifies, and Kyungsoo winces, thinking about Chanyeol’s poor healing leg. “Where were you? It started getting late and you didn’t bring my supper and-”
“Hey, shhh,” Kyungsoo soothes, unlocking the door and letting himself in. “Where are you? Where’s your light?”
There’s a brief scuffle, and the light clicks on, dim and yellow and illuminating Chanyeol’s dirty, somewhat sunken cheeks, his tired, wide eyes. He looks up at Kyungsoo from the floor, almost disbelieving. “Where were you?” he asks, and his voice is raspy, as if this is the first time he’s used it all day.
Kyungsoo swallows hard as he sits down on the floor across from him. “My shift started late because of the party, they didn’t give me the chance to tell you. I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier.”
Chanyeol shakes his head, blinking exhaustion from his eyes as he says, “No, no, it’s okay. I’m just...happy to see you.” He fidgets constantly where he sits, fiddles with his bandages, scratches his head, rubs his arm with the opposite hand-his good hand. Kyungsoo wants to reach out and hold him still, hold onto him until he relaxes.
“I wish I had thought to bring you something to eat.” Kyungsoo sighs heavily. “There were roasted potatoes, but they were all gone. Still, I could have brought you something else. Some friend I am.”
Chanyeol stares at him for a long, silent moment, and then he seems to snap out of it and says, “What were you celebrating?”
“Hm? Oh, the harvest. It’s not the end of the growing season yet, but the Growers just finished harvesting and preserving a lot of stuff, so the community decided to have a little party. It was nice. There was music, and everyone got to enjoy their evening.” Kyungsoo smiles, leans back on his hands. He feels like Chanyeol needs more opportunities to hear casual conversation in his life. Still, it seems unfair to talk about what a nice day he’d been having when Chanyeol has been stuck here, all alone. “How are you feeling today? How’s progress?”
“I’m alright. Progress is alright. I opened a new compartment in the puzzle box by accident.” Chanyeol seems more interested in staring at Kyungsoo like he’s a ghost than talking.
“Oh yeah? You’re alright?” Kyungsoo holds out his hand. “Let me see that battle wound.”
Chanyeol places his hand in Kyungsoo’s without argument and without taking his eyes off his face. “It’s getting better. I can use it for holding things as long as I don’t have to grip too hard. Infection’s gone away, I think.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way,” Kyungsoo says, peeling off his bandages. “These are filthy. Didn’t Joohyun bring you fresh ones?”
Chanyeol squirms. “She did. But I didn’t put them on yet.”
“No?” Kyungsoo looks up into his face. “Should I do it?”
Chanyeol nods, chewing on his lip, so Kyungsoo moves away to pick up the clean strips of cloth to bind Chanyeol’s wound.
“This is definitely looking better,” he comments as the old bandages fall away. He pokes at the skin around the scab, wincing apologetically when Chanyeol hisses through his teeth. The infection does indeed seem to be gone, at least for now, and the inflammation has gone down, and the skin is beginning to knit back together. Kyungsoo feels relieved, running the pad of his thumb along the unbroken skin next to the cut. He chuckles a little when Chanyeol shivers in response-his touch is probably ticklish. “Keep this as clean as possible, alright?” he says as he wraps the new bandages around it. “Ask for more water if you have to. I don’t want it to get re-infected.”
Chanyeol is staring at him again. Kyungsoo’s kind of just gotten used to it. “Okay,” he says obediently.
“Did you have an alright day?” Kyungsoo asks eventually, after he’s done with Chanyeol’s hand and has let him retract it. “You know, just...in general?”
Chanyeol shrugs. “It was the same as always.”
Kyungsoo smiles up at him ruefully, opens his mouth to say something, then stops as he notices something dark on Chanyeol’s temple. “Is that blood? What happened?”
“What?” Chanyeol stares at him, confused. “Where?”
“Here.” Kyungsoo leans in, reaches out to place a hand on Chanyeol’s cheek to tilt his face to the side to get a better look. At his sudden touch, Chanyeol inhales sharply, and his hand flies to his face. Kyungsoo begins to jerk away, thinking he’s done something wrong, but to his surprise Chanyeol’s hand lands on top of his, pressing it to his skin.
For a moment, everything is very still and silent. Chanyeol’s eyes are round, stunned, and Kyungsoo thinks his probably match. “Sorry,” Chanyeol says dumbly, but he doesn’t move his hand. His fingers tighten briefly around Kyungsoo’s-reflexively-and then relax. “I didn’t-”
“It’s okay,” Kyungsoo says softly, and Chanyeol’s hand falls away. The back of Kyungsoo’s feels cool with the sudden loss. He moves his fingers slowly to rub at the dried blood on Chanyeol’s temple. “What happened…?”
“What?” Chanyeol looks like he doesn’t even remember what they’d been talking about for a few seconds. “Oh. I think I nicked it on one of the blades. I was under there...well. Fixing.”
Kyungsoo clucks his tongue in a way that strikes him afterwards as unnervingly matronly. “You should be more careful. You have enough things working against you. You don’t need more injuries.”
Chanyeol’s lips twitch. “I’m always getting myself hurt. I’m a walking hazard.”
Kyungsoo has to chuckle at that. He pulls his hand away from Chanyeol’s face and sees Chanyeol’s fingers flex in his lap in reaction. “I’m glad you’re making jokes again. It’s more like you.”
“I knew you liked my jokes.” Chanyeol’s smile grows slightly.
“I never said I liked them. I said I liked that you were making them. It’s different.” Kyungsoo grins. “Things have been really hard for you recently. I’m glad they’re looking up a little.”
Chanyeol looks at the ground, hunches his shoulders. “They’re still hard for me.”
“I know.” Kyungsoo swallows thickly. “I hope I’ve been helping at least a little.”
Chanyeol looks up at him sharply. “Kyungsoo. You’ve been- You’ve saved me.”
His earnest appreciation isn’t as gratifying as Kyungsoo might have thought. Sometimes, it just makes him feel worse. “I’m doing what I can,” he says. “You know that, right? I’m doing everything I can.”
“You are?” Chanyeol asks.
It’s an innocent enough question. Chanyeol is alone, he’s scared, he’s desperate. He wants to think someone’s watching out for him. He wants reassurance.
But it still hurts. It reminds Kyungsoo of everything he can’t do for Chanyeol. “Everything that won’t get you killed and me kicked out of the community,” he says, because he does want to be honest. “I swear.”
Chanyeol smiles, sweet and grateful, and it makes Kyungsoo’s heart clench. “I know,” he says. “Thank you.”
Kyungsoo has to look away. “If you ever need something, ask me, okay?”
Silence hangs between them, and Kyungsoo forces himself to look back up at Chanyeol. He’s staring again, eyes unblinking in the yellow glow of the lamp, vibrating with pent-up energy. He’s clearly holding something back.
“What?” Kyungsoo asks, concerned. “What is it?”
Chanyeol’s throat bobs. “Kyungsoo, could you-” He stops, takes a deep breath. “Could you hold my hand?”
“What?” Now it’s Kyungsoo turn to stare.
Chanyeol laughs a little, embarrassed and self-deprecating, and he ducks his head. “It’s stupid,” he mutters. “But I think I’ll go crazy if nobody holds my goddamn hand. Just one time. Just for...for five minutes.”
Kyungsoo’s chest hurts, like someone’s squeezing his ribs in a vice. Without speaking-what can he say?-he holds out his hand, waits for Chanyeol to notice it. When he does, he looks up with shocked eyes, disbelieving but hopeful. Kyungsoo forces a smile, nods towards it. “Are you going to hold it or what?”
Chanyeol’s good hand is shooting out in a split second, fingers linking with Kyungsoo’s, folding them together. His palm is warm-Chanyeol is always warm-and his hand is much larger than Kyungsoo’s, much rougher, but they fit together just fine. Kyungsoo squeezes it instinctively.
Chanyeol looks like he’s going to cry, but he doesn’t, smiling shakily instead. “Thank you,” he says softly.
“Chanyeol, this is honestly the least I can do,” Kyungsoo says past a brand new lump in his throat. He forces a joking tone. “Just don’t let the people in charge see.”
“Should we turn this off, then?” Without letting go, Chanyeol reaches out with one long arm, switches off the lamp so that they fall into darkness again.
Kyungsoo chuckles. “Seems a little weird, holding hands in the dark, but alright, if you want.”
Chanyeol sighs. “It’s super weird, isn’t it.”
“Of course it is.” Kyungsoo laughs, squeezes his hand again. “But who cares? I mean, all of my superiors definitely would, but we just won’t tell them.”
“I’m making you uncomfortable,” Chanyeol says, sounding miserable.
“Chanyeol, it’s fine. I really don’t mind.” Kyungsoo searches the dark for his face. “Do you want to sit closer to the door, where there’s a little moonlight?”
Chanyeol does, so they maneuver over that way, stumbling and crawling as necessary. They sit down on the pavement in front of the barred door, where the darkness is a little less absolute. Here, as his eyes adjust, Kyungsoo can see Chanyeol’s face, the way he looks at Kyungsoo and at their joined hands. His grip hasn’t loosened for even a second.
Kyungsoo looks away, looks out the door at the sky above them. “Beautiful night,” he says quietly, pretending not to feel the way Chanyeol’s hand trembles ever so slightly. “So many stars out.”
Chanyeol hums in agreement, but Kyungsoo doesn’t know if he’s actually looking.
“Tell me about your plant,” Kyungsoo says. “The one that grew from the seed I gave you.”
“You want to hear about that?”
Kyungsoo shrugs. “Yeah. I’m curious. What does it look like? How fast did it grow? You know I stole that seed, right?”
“What?” Kyungsoo only notices Chanyeol’s thumb had been mindlessly stroking the back of his hand when he stops.
“Yeah. Back then, during the first surfacing, my mom was a scavenger, and I went with. Found that seed in some clothes we found at an abandoned camp-someone who had already went back underground, I guess. I stole the seed when she wasn’t looking and gave it to you.” Kyungsoo smiles at the memory. “I was bad at following rules even back then, I guess.”
“I’ve been raising a stolen plant all this time…” Chanyeol mutters.
Kyungsoo laughs quietly. “I guess so. It was a nice gift, though, right?”
Chanyeol hums his agreement. “It’s a she, actually.”
“A she?” Kyungsoo looks at him, isn’t surprised to see Chanyeol staring back. “It’s a girl plant?”
Chanyeol smiles. “Well, I say so.”
It pulls a snort out of Kyungsoo. “Alright then. What does she look like?”
“Last I saw? Stalky. Leafy. Green. I wonder if Yifan’s pruning her?”
“Who’s Yifan?”
Chanyeol sighs. “My friend. I told him to look after the plant if...anything happened to me. I hope he is.”
Kyungsoo squeezes his hand tight. “I’m sure he is.”
Chanyeol just shrugs, looking morose.
With a sigh, Kyungsoo nudges him, nods up at the sky. “Almost full moon,” he says. “Work anymore on that story about the werewolf and his dog?”
“Constantly,” Chanyeol replies immediately-Kyungsoo assumes it’s a lie. “You’re speaking to Earth’s first post-apocalyptic author right here. I refuse to give up that title.”
“Tell me about it.”
“You’re not going to wait until it’s finished? I don’t want to spoil the ending.”
Kyungsoo smiles. “It’s not spoiling if you tell me the whole story, right here.”
Chanyeol hesitates. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” Kyungsoo adjusts his grip on Chanyeol’s hand, makes himself comfortable. “I’ve got all night.”
When he looks at Chanyeol, it’s to see a smile that’s bright even in the darkness. “Alright. Bear with me, it’s the first draft.”
Chanyeol falls asleep in the middle of a sentence, his fingers still interlocked with Kyungsoo’s. It’s probably bad-probably very bad-but Kyungsoo doesn’t feel all that much like letting go.
***
In general, Jongin’s days go like this: wake up, eat breakfast with Sehun, spend the morning alternatingly practicing his control and resting, eat lunch with Sehun, spend the afternoon practicing and/or actively working in the fields with Minseok, eat supper with Sehun, and then hang out with Sehun or work some more with Minseok in the evening. Occasionally, of course, this routine differs. Some days Minseok comes at different times, depending on his own work schedule. Some days Jongin isn’t up in time to eat breakfast with everyone else. Sometimes Sehun is late to lunch. Recently he’s been working in the evenings as well, replanting the fields. But for the most part, Jongin knows what to expect of his day.
He does not expect things like Sehun showing up at his house in the late morning, looking oddly ashen and embarrassed, to ask if he wants to hang out for a little while.
“What are you doing here?” Jongin asks in surprise. “I thought the Growers were, you know, really really busy. Like, frantic.” Sehun had been groaning at breakfast in the morning, his feet and back still sore from the previous day’s work.
“Oh, yeah, they are,” Sehun says, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. Something’s not right about the energy coming off of him-something’s cold-sour, sickly-sour. Jongin’s felt it before, but never this strongly. “I wasn’t feeling well, though, so they sent me home to rest…”
“You’re sick?” Jongin clambers to his feet immediately, concerned. “What’s wrong? Do you need to lie down?”
“I’m fine! I’m fine, really.” Sehun gives a weak smile. “Just, um. I just wanted to maybe. Hang out a while.”
Jongin frowns, taking a step closer. “Sehun, you’re putting out all sorts of pain and anxiety signals. What’s going on?” He reaches out mentally, just a little. “Your head’s bad. Headache?”
Sehun looks away, running a hand through his hair, rubbing his palm over his forehead self-consciously. “It’s nothing…”
“It’s obviously not nothing if they sent you home early for it.” Jongin ducks his head, squinting. “Is that dirt on your chin or a bruise?”
Sehun chews on his lip. “Probably both?”
Horror courses through Jongin’s body. “Did someone hit you?”
“No! Of course not.” Sehun hesitates, then sighs. “I just. I had another seizure.”
“Another...what?” Jongin blinks dumbly at him.
Sehun’s face crumples slightly. “Can we sit down? I’m really tired.”
“Of course, god, sorry. Here, come sit on my bed.”
Once they’re seated and comfortable, Jongin watches in silence as Sehun draws slow, deep breaths, obviously trying to relax himself. He’s tense and nervous and clearly trying not to show how upset he is, and Jongin feels bad for being part of the cause of that, but he really wants to know what’s going on. The closer Sehun is to him, the more strongly Jongin can feel all the bad things coursing through his body. Most of it is concentrated in his head, but his whole body thrums with negative feelings, aches and pains and fear and misery. “Sehun, what’s wrong?”
Sehun lets out a slow breath. “It’s just. When I was a kid-really young-during the first resurfacing-I got really really sick. I don’t know if it was the plague or something similar. My parents both died from the plague, so it was probably that. Anyway, the infection spread to my brain, I guess. I got better...obviously...but there was scarring in my brain. When I was sick, I had really bad seizures. And even after I got better, I kept having them. Really bad when I was young, but as I grew up they went away. And I...I hadn’t had any in a long time. The first time I had a seizure in years was during that first battle as a soldier. I guess it was triggered by all the stress? I don’t handle stress well.” Sehun’s face is red, embarrassed, and he rubs his arm over his eyes. “So I got transferred to Growing duty. And that was fine. But whenever things get really hectic and I have to work all day and don’t sleep enough, I just...my brain can’t handle it, or something. This is the second time it’s happened.” He flushes, looking ashamed.
Jongin stares at him in shock. “I had no idea.”
“Yeah, I don’t really like to tell people,” Sehun mutters, staring at the ground. “It’s embarrassing.”
“It’s embarrassing that something you had no control over is now giving you seizures?” Jongin asks, incredulous.
Sehun just shrugs. “I’m weak. And pitiful. People don’t like talking about it, either, because we barely know anything about it and there’s nothing we can do about it anyway. When I have a seizure they just send me home so they don’t have to deal with it.”
Jongin lets out a slow breath. “Can I look at your head?”
“What?” Sehun gives him an odd look.
“Well, I mean, not actually look, but. You know, I can sense energies and...stuff. Do you mind if I look into your head a little? I want to see what I can figure out about it.”
Sehun looks momentarily wary, which makes Jongin feel even more pleased when he eventually says, “Yeah, sure.” Sehun trusts him, so much that he doesn’t even ask questions. That means a lot to Jongin.
“Put your head in my lap,” Jongin requests, shifting so that Sehun can stretch out along his bed. When he does, Jongin rests his palms on Sehun’s skull and closes his eyes, concentrating. When there are a lot of signals coming off a person, it can be hard to differentiate between them, but like this, so close to Sehun’s brain, it’s almost overwhelming.
In his mind’s eye, there’s cold, black matter in patches in Sehun’s brain. There’s lots and lots of other energy, too. So much happens in the brain-it’s no wonder. He can feel all the anxiety, the exhaustion, the frustration, the embarrassment. But the sickness-that stands out. Jongin can pinpoint where it’s coming from easily, could probably trace the scarring in his brain because bad feelings virtually radiate from it. It’s likely only this strong because Sehun just had a seizure. Jongin’s definitely never felt this around him before, not like this. Right now, Sehun feels sick. Like the infection never truly went away, like remnants of it still lingered, the way energy lingers in pockets under the dead earth.
Jongin feels it. It’s black, vicious, bitter. It wants to choke out life. Good energy is always fighting back, though. Jongin knows this. It can’t always win, but it’s strong in Sehun. It doesn’t let the sickness spread. When Sehun is tired, when he’s weak and overworked and stressed out, the good energy inside him can’t work at optimum power, can’t stop the sickness from playing tricks with his brain. But as he rests, the good energy takes over again, tries its best to heal him. But it hasn’t healed completely, in all these years. The sickness is rooted deep, stubborn.
It feels so tangible in Jongin’s mind, though, like a mass of black matter nestled inside Sehun’s brain. He feels like he could reach out, draw it out, let it flow into him. But it’s so cold. So cruel. He’s scared, but at the same time eager. He’s never done anything like this before. But he wonders if he should try.
“I need to get Minseok,” he says. “Sehun, do you want to fix this permanently?”
“What? I don’t know if that’s possible, Jongin…”
Jongin stares down at him, his gaze hard. “I don’t know, either, but I think it’s a good idea to find out.”
Sehun’s throat bobs as he swallows. “Well. Okay.”
Jongin grins.
It takes Jongin a while to convince Minseok to agree to his plan. “Jongin, are you crazy? Do you remember when we destroyed a whole garden trying something new?” He’s whispering fiercely, glancing over his shoulder at his fellow Builders, who are working maybe ten meters away. Not that they’d be able to hear Minseok and Jongin over the sound of their hammering.
“This is different!” Jongin spots Minseok’s friend Luhan glancing their way, but puts him out of his mind for the time being. Minseok always tells him to stay away from Luhan anyway. “This is...it’s different, Minseok. And we’ve learned a lot of stuff! We’re good now!”
“We’re not good. We think we’re helping plants grow. And neither of us cries anymore. Are you sure that’s good enough to heal a person?”
“Can’t we just try it, Minseok?” Jongin asks pitifully. “How are we supposed to get better if we don’t try new things?”
“Maybe we shouldn’t try new things on a person,” Minseok says with a roll of his eyes. “I know you’d like to help your little friend-”
Jongin’s chest goes tight and hot with anger. “Don’t you dare belittle him, Minseok. He is a person. He is my friend, and if you haven’t noticed, I don’t really have a lot of those. And he is struggling, okay? He’s upset and hurting and I want to help him because I know I can. We can. Together. If you would just try.”
Minseok stares at him, taken aback, and then he smiles a little. “Look at you, all grown up and fighting for the greater good.”
Jongin tries to scowl through a helpless twitch of his lips. “Not funny, Minseok.”
“A little funny. Fine, fine, I’ll give it a go. But if someone gets hurt, I am not taking responsibility. Okay?” He lifts his eyebrows.
“Alright. I’ll see you after lunch.”
Minseok grins, ruffles his hair roughly, and then walks back to his spot to continue working.
Sehun’s waiting a little way off, twisting his hands together nervously. “What’d he say? You looked mad.”
“He said he’ll do it,” Jongin says, beaming. He reaches out, takes Sehun’s hand. “Come on, you can rest until lunchtime. Just relax, okay? It’ll be fine.”
It’s, well. It’s not really fine. Jongin tries his very best, he really does. He has Sehun sit between Minseok and himself on the floor of his house, and he goes through his theories quickly. “Okay, first we’re going to try the normal way of doing this, the same way we deal with plants. Push good energy in, to promote healing. If that doesn’t work… This stuff, it feels a lot like raw energy, except, you know, way worse. It’s pretty strong, but there’s not too much of it. So I’m going to try to draw it into myself the same way I do with normal energy, and I’ll pass it into Minseok, and Minseok will...turn it into something tangible so I can push it away. I guess. If I don’t have Minseok change it, it’ll just flow back to its natural state, which is inside your brain. That’s what I’m guessing, at least.” He tries to smile encouragingly.
“That’s a lot of guesses, Jongin,” Sehun says nervously.
Jongin flaps his hand. “Nothing bad will happen,” he says, coming off as much more confident than he feels. But that’s okay. That’s good. He doesn’t want anyone to be nervous. That’ll just distract him, and make it more likely that something bad will happen. But it won’t.
“So, the same old?” Minseok asks. He looks wary, but vaguely intrigued. The possible uses for this ability, if they can figure it out, are undoubtedly not lost on him.
“For now,” Jongin affirms with a nod.
So they try it, and it’s a complete flop. Jongin tries his hardest to feed just the right amount of energy into Minseok, so that it’s not overwhelming but still pushing him. Minseok’s face twists up in concentration as he transforms it, and Jongin can feel when it clicks, can feel the rightness of it when the healing energy flows back into his body. He pushes it into Sehun, directly into his head, targeting the black spots of sickness. But it’s useless. It’s too weak, it’s not nearly enough. Jongin feels like they’d need a dozen sorcerer-conjurer pairs working at the same time to make a dent in it, and even then, maybe it would be impossible. The black matter is solid, strong, resilient. It fights.
“Okay,” he gasps, coming out of it. “So that’s a no-go.”
“Yeah,” Minseok agrees, shaking his head, eyes squeezed shut. Jongin knows the level of concentration needed for the task always gives him a headache. It does to Jongin, too, but he’s used to it.
“So it won’t work?” Sehun asks. He looks stunned, a little scared, but unscathed. Jongin is...really proud, actually. Of Minseok and himself.
“Not this way,” Jongin says. “So we’re going to try the other way.”
And this is the scary part. This is something Jongin has never tried before, has never dared to attempt. The sickness in Sehun’s brain feels so dangerous, so cruel, and Jongin is going to have to reach out, draw that into his own body. He doesn’t think it’ll affect him. But how should he know? No one ever told him about this, never taught him what to do in these circumstances.
Drawing a deep breath, he reaches out, wary and uncertain. He feels the sickness, the black energy, and carefully, he opens the channels to let it flow into him.
In a split second, it’s flooding into him, painfully, and Jongin yelps, immediately overwhelmed. This sickness is not like the energy under the ground. It’s vicious, it actively wants to hurt, to take over. Jongin gasps as it fills his body, all-consuming and destructive.
And then, without trying, energy from the ground starts to flow into him to meet it, like an automatic reaction-good trying its best to fight against evil. A natural counterbalance, a battle happening inside Jongin’s body. Both energies build and build, until Jongin feels like he’s going to explode-neither can win, not like this, so they’re just growing inside him, too large for his body to handle.
Not knowing what else he can possibly do, Jongin starts to push both into Minseok’s body, the slowest, steadiest stream he can manage-it’s still too much in his panicked state. Minseok swears loudly, says something, but Jongin can’t hear him over the rushing in his ears. “Do something!” he yells. “Do something with them!”
At the edge of his consciousness, Jongin can feel Minseok transforming the energies-can feel Minseok forcing the black energy into a condensed mass, wrapping the raw energy around it in the form of something healing. Still, neither can win, but it feels like he’s locking the bad energy away. When it starts to slip back into Jongin’s body, it feels manageable, like the healing energy is a barrier between himself and the sickness, like a cloth wrapped around a fire-hot handle.
But the barrier is too weak, too patchy, and Jongin is too overwhelmed to hold onto it anyway, wracked with pain and panic. Minseok is obviously struggling as well, swearing in a steady stream as he tries to deal with all the energy Jongin is pushing into him, and they can’t hold it. Jongin lets go abruptly, cuts off all channels, forces all the energy in his body out with the last of his strength. He collapses onto his back, gasping for breath, and vaguely hears Minseok in the background hissing, “Holy shit.”
“Guys?” comes Sehun’s voice, thin and nervous. “What happened?”
Honestly, Jongin doesn’t really feel up to talking right now. He feels wrung out and exhausted beyond belief, and his body throbs with residual pain, and he won’t lie and say that whole ordeal didn’t freak him out a little. But Sehun is scared, and he deserves an explanation. “It didn’t work,” he says, his tongue clumsy as he forms the words without opening his eyes or sitting up. “It was too much.”
“So you can’t fix it?” Sehun asks.
Minseok groans quietly. “Honestly, this is about how badly our first attempt at doubles voodoo went, too.” Jongin hears him shifting. “Was that normal, Jongin?”
“I don’t know,” Jongin says hazily. “I never saw anyone try it before.”
Minseok sighs. “We barely got any formal training before...well.” He’s talking to Sehun again. “So we have no clue what we’re doing or if this is possible. Maybe this is just some next level shit and we’re not capable of handling it yet.”
Jongin swallows thickly, finally manages to drag himself upright. Sehun is sitting on the floor between them, his face pale. “It seemed possible, though,” he says. “It was too much for us this time, but it still feels like something we could do. Don’t you think, Minseok?”
Minseok is lying on his back, too, but he slowly sits up to look at him wearily. “Honestly? Yeah. It doesn’t feel out of the realm of possibility. No more than anything else we’ve done, at least.”
Jongin grins tiredly, then sees the shaken look on Sehun’s face. “Hey, how are you feeling?”
Sehun shrugs. “My head hurts.”
“Yeah, that’s, uh, that’s probably normal?” Jongin has no idea, really. “This kind of...magic is a lot to handle.”
“I thought I was gonna die the first time,” Minseok offers.
“We should get some rest,” Jongin says. “We can’t work when we’re this tired. Minseok, meet me in a couple hours…?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Minseok mutters, curling up right there on the floor. “Wake me up when it’s time to work.”
Jongin smiles slightly. “It’d be comfier on the bed.”
Minseok waves his hand vaguely. “Thought you’d be taking it.”
“Hmm. True.” Jongin crawls toward his bed mat clumsily, letting himself flop into it and kicking off his shoes.
“Should I go home…?” Sehun asks uncertainly from his spot on the floor.
“Mmm. You can sleep here if you want.” Jongin pats the pillow next to his face. “Room for two, as long as you don’t kick.”
There’s a pause, and then Sehun says, “I’m good at bed-sharing.”
“Then come on. We’re all napping.”
There’s a shuffling noise, and a few seconds later Jongin feels Sehun lying down next to him on his bed, leaving a couple inches of space between them. Jongin smiles to himself. Delta-and all paranormal groups, as far as he knows-had been fond of sharing sleeping spaces, of sharing space. Jongin had been used to it, had enjoyed it. He’s missed it so much, since Joonmyun and Yixing were taken. This feels nice. Jongin had almost forgotten how badly he’d been longing for closeness.
“Are you going to try again?” Sehun asks quietly, just as Jongin is dropping off.
“Hmm? Think so...if you wanna,” Jongin says on a yawn.
“I think...I’d like to get better,” is Sehun’s soft reply.
“We’ll try again then,” Jongin says. “Later. For now...sleep.”
Sehun lets out a breathy chuckle. “Alright.”
If he says anything else, Jongin doesn’t hear it.
*****
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A/N: it's finally Christmas break, so I'll be able to answer comments again! :D \o/ hmu yall. i love you guys.
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