2014: I Wish I Could Follow You (for bluedreaming)
For: bluedreaming
From: ANONYMOUS until December 30, 2014
Title: I Wish I Could Follow You
Rating: PG
Pairing(s)/Focus: Baekhyun/Tao/Sehun
Length: 5,607 words
Summary: Baekhyun looks up through the bars of the city at the sky, and wishes he is there.
Warnings: Character death
Notes: Dear recipient, I'm afraid this is far from Steampunk!AU and definitely far from what I had planned in my head when I first received your prompt, but I hope you like it nonetheless? Thank you for the great prompts! Also, thank you (x10000000) to the mods who've been so kind and patient! (Also, unbeta-ed so I apologize in advance for any horrendous mistakes/typos.)
"Baekhyun."
Baekhyun opened his eyes and found that he was standing in the dark alone. Grimy scraps of withered leaves about his feet, a winter evening settling down, he was lost. While he didn't know where he was, he could smell the burnt-out end of smoky days. Sure enough, as soon as he thought it, a mysterious yellow fog filled the air. Just like him, it was a strange presence, unfamiliar with its surroundings, an alien in a world of blackness.
"Baekhyun."
This time, the voice was louder and it echoed in his ears. Bells started ringing in the distance. They sounded familiar. The familiarity tugged at his feet. He reached out, arms thrown out, and grasped nothing but thin air. The fog mimicked him and it stretched itself thin, rubbing its back against him, pressing its muzzle on his shoulder. Then, as if it sensed his frustration, the fog pulled away and started licking its tongue into the corners of the night, lingering on pools of memories. Baekhyun could only watch it try to catch what he couldn't quite manage to.
"Baekhyun, are you here? Can you hear us?"
Yes, Baekhyun parted his lips to say. Nothing. He'd lost his voice too. Yes, I can, he thought, Can you hear me?
Held captive by his own body, he could only helplessly watch on as the fog, with increasing difficulty, fended itself against the soot that fell from the darkness which surrounded them. It made sudden leaps, trying to escape the smell of decay, only to fall into one of the pools of memories it had previously steered clear of.
"Baekhyun, can you run?"
No, Baekhyun thought. He couldn't move. Dread filled his lungs instead of air. It was a family friend his parents had often invited over for a meal or two every weekend. Slowly, pain sewed itself along the end of his spine and up, up, up until it reached the base of his neck. There, it exploded, just as the fog melted into the pool. Dread was replaced by memories; Baekhyun never thought the latter could be worse, but it was.
"Baekhyun, can you fly?"
By now, the voice was shouting, amplified by a fear so great that even Baekhyun felt it.
No, I can't, was his last thought before he startled awake.
Drenched in sweat, dowsed in the soft glow of the rising sun, the rest of his reply tumbled out in a voice cracked by the remnants of a recurring nightmare.
"But I want to."
▷
Six-year-old Baekhyun is seated on the dinning table, next to a vase of shrivelled lilies and a basket of half sunken fruits. His fringe is too long and his hair ends up framing his face. He's often mistaken as a girl, but he doesn't hate it when the grocery shop owner, Mrs Kim, gives them an extra packet of sugar because of that.
"Mommy?"
"Yes, sweetie?"
"Where did they go? I wanna play...but now I have nobody to play with..."
His father and his elder brother left the house long before the crack of dawn. Hunting, Baekhyun's been told that's what they're doing. They hunt for things to eat, chasing footprints of the most elusive creatures, and Baekhyun's mother tells him that one of the most magnificent creatures - rarely ever found these days - is called Hope.
"I'm afraid you're gonna have to play on your own, dearie. Or you can go back to your room and draw something? So you can show it to them when they're back? I'm sure they'll like that."
Little Baekhyun's eyes brighten. Then, he's off the table, small feet taking to the stair. His enthusiasm is infectious, bringing a smile to Mrs Byun's face, and she listens fondly to the "thump thump thump" of Baekhyun's footsteps leading him to his room. It is only erased when she looks out of the window and finds that a storm is fast approaching.
Worry settles over the kitchen, a thin layer of anxiety that, when swiped and tested, tastes of blood.
Back in his room, Baekhyun jumps onto his bed. He grabs his pillow and sits it between his back and the wall, pulls his blanket over his legs, and ponders over what he's going to draw. Now that he's calmed down (slightly), he doesn't quite know. These days, adults have all been rather...gloomy. His parents rarely smile, always tense and apprehensive, and even his brother is starting to become so. "I need to draw something nice," he decides, and says this out loud, "Something happy."
He sits perfectly still for a minute, smiling into space, considering.
Something happy…
By the time he's called downstairs to help set up the dining table, Baekhyun has two drawings done. The first is a city with slanted walls and oddly shaped roofs, resting atop the clouds, painted rainbow. The second is a flash of white in a tangle of dark, bad things - creepy centipedes, venomous snakes, and all that lurks when lightning strikes; at the top of the picture, Baekhyun has written, shakily: Hope.
Before he leaves his room, Baekhyun looks out of his window, looks up through the bars of the city at the sky, and wishes he is there.
▷
Baekhyun gripped the edge of the window, feeling dizzy and sick. His head wouldn't stop spinning. Dread seized him upon the realisation that he had finished the last dose three days ago. He was supposed to take another one in the morning.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
He fought down panic and the tears that always came with it. His heart began to race, and his skin turned clammy. What a fool he was, embarking on this trip without the certainty that he could last long enough to finish it. On top of that, he was both a waste of precious resources and a liability for Black Pearl and her crew.
"Ha!" His laugh was more like a cry.
"Baekhyun?"
It was Sehun. Baekhyun knew that he had to get the door. He checked the mirror one more time as he crossed the small space of his room and saw his own ghost reflected there. His fingers, cold, found the lock and pulled, then he was face to face with Sehun.
"Dinner's ready," Sehun explained, then he frowned, the hooded ridges above his eyes drawing together. "Are you okay?" He stepped closer and lowered his voice. "You look really pale."
Baekhyun touched a hand to his cheek. He couldn't tell which was warmer. "Just a little queasy," he said, "but I'll be fine with some food in my stomach. I guess I just need some time to get used to all…this." He gestured at the lone window and the view it held: stray strands of clouds carried across the vast blackness by an independent breeze.
Sehun didn't look too convinced, but he stepped aside when Baekhyun made to move out of his room, holding the door for him, ceremoniously, smiling at him, and helped close the door when Baekhyun forgot.
Sehun's shook something inside Baekhyun. His resolve, perhaps. "Sorry," he said, "for all the trouble I've caused." He put his hands to his face and took a breath.
When he looked up again, Sehun had another frown on his face.
"I mean - "
"Stop apologizing." Sehun turned away, as if he didn't want to stick around any longer. "There's nothing to apologize for."
Oh, you have no idea, Baekhyun thought, watching Sehun walk away in the direction of the dining hall, there's too much to apologize for.
His thought was replaced by that of Zitao's smile, Zitao's laugh, Zitao's voice...and all of a sudden they were overlapped by Sehun's. He found that there was gravity in that gesture, one that he couldn't afford to indulge in.
"Baekhyun, can you fly?"
▷
"Mommy?"
Eight-year-old Baekhyun is afraid. He has never seen his mother act like this before. She is crying silently and somehow, this feels a hundred times worse than the way Baekhyun cries when he's scrapped his knees or bruised a finger - loud, earth-shaking. The silence cuts deep into Baekhyun's sides, and his tears are quick to fall when his mother doesn't reply. She can't reply. The grief is too great, too overpowering.
"Mommy..." Baekhyun's lips part and he can taste his own tears, and they blur his vision. Tiny hands reach out to grab for bigger ones to hold, longing their warmth, but when they touch, it's cold. As cold as his father and his brother's bodies when the Park siblings brought them back, which cloths, black as night, pulled over them.
They stand in the middle of an airy white room with tall windows, and it's here that Baekhyun finally learns what he's been taught for years: one of the most magnificent creatures - rarely ever found these days - is called Hope.
Held in a tight embrace which reeks of lily-of-the-valley, Baekhyun looks out of the window, looks up through the bars of the city at the sky, and wishes he is there.
▷
"Am I interrupting something?"
Even if he did, Baekhyun made sure to look nonchalant about it. Zitao and Sehun exchanged a look. Baekhyun took that as invitation to squeeze himself between them, ignoring the way their bodies stilled from what appeared to a mix of surprise and unwillingness.
"You said you were tired," Sehun said, tone accusing. Baekhyun's laughter sailed on, accompanied by Black Pearl as it glided steadily across the sea of clouds and stars.
"I am." Baekhyun tried not to get lost in the map of constellations and memories. "But no matter how I tried, I couldn't fall asleep."
Baekhyun returned his attention to the night sky. Flickering lights, time and space compressed, and for a brief moment, before Zitao's voice drew him back, he wondered if they would embrace him if he was to let himself fall in their midst.
"You have a question for us." Baekhyun hated that it wasn't a question.
On his left, Sehun was leaning back, trying to act all casual, but Baekhyun knew that it was so that Zitao and Sehun's hands could continue holding hands behind his back. One would think that two sky pirates wouldn't know what romance was even if it was to yell in their faces. Hopeless, Baekhyun thought, and a voice in him retorted. Them? Or you?
Baekhyun didn't know what the answer was. All he knew was that he was running out of time.
"Baekhyun?"
The question mark the two of them would add behind his name was becoming more of a habit than a rare occurrence.
Baekhyun blinked. It took a moment for him to gather back his senses and the feeling of control. Or rather, the illusion of such a feeling. "Say," he began, "Why did you become sky pirates?"
Sehun's immediate response was a frown. Zitao's was a laugh. His laugh echoed Baekhyun's and it too was sucked away by the darkness they were sitting in the middle of. Baekhyun waited for a proper reply.
Sehun spoke first. His voice was soft and the wind would have carried it away if Baekhyun had not catch it in time.
"Zitao."
Baekhyun tried the grasp the answer Sehun gave him. Before he could open his mouth to ask, Sehun spoke again.
"Being a sky pirate isn't easy. Everyone is loud and stinky and we don't always get a big loot. It's dangerous and we're always either doing the chasing or being chased. My dreams reek of blood and money." Baekhyun regretted sitting between them. "In a life of inconsistencies, he is the only consistent thing I need. That's why."
Baekhyun turned to Zitao and couldn't help but wonder: when did the stars move into his eyes? For a second, Zitao looked like he was going to say something he would regret, but he didn't. He looked away and his expression told Baekhyun that he was remembering something bad.
"I'm not blaming you." Sehun's eyes were locked on Baekhyun's but his words were for Zitao.
I love you, Baekhyun heard what Sehun didn't say. Then, for no apparent reason, he found that emptiness filled his lungs instead of air. It was getting hard for him to breathe. Sehun wasn't looking away. The sadness in his eyes was a familiar friend of Baekhyun's.
"Well," Baekhyun forced a laugh, "This is getting awkward." Sehun jolts and Baekhyun was relieved of the spell Sehun had unknowingly placed him under. "And I hate awkward things. I think I'd rather go back to my room and stare at the ceiling than to continue sitting between the two of you and making things worse. This is me running away."
Back in his room, far away from the intensity of Sehun's sad gaze and the unflinching cold of being the odd one out, Baekhyun's legs gave up on him almost instantly. He wheezed in breath after breath but it wasn't enough. He reached out and pressed a hand above his heart. His nails digged against soft skin and a longing he couldn't quite chase away.
That night, sleep didn't come to him.
▷
"Baekhyun."
His mother is right there, far beyond his reach, standing on the verge of despair.
"Mother," fifteen-year-old Baekhyun says, mustering himself, "what are you doing?"
She simply smiles. That sad, sad smile she's been wearing for years. Ever since the black death took her husband and her firstborn away, ripping them so far out of her reach, just like how it is now, perched right over the edge, where only the wind can touch her. Baekhyun dares not take another step forward, knowing that he mustn't give her the reason to take one step back. The last step.
"It's hard, you know, after so many years," his mother is speaking, but it is hard for Baekhyun to take in a single word. His ears are ringing. Fear is playing a frantic beat with his heart. His blood is running cold. She has that look on her face: the one she wears when she thinks that he is still asleep and can't quite find it in his heart to wake him again, the one she wears at funerals, and the one she wears to mask the darkness growing inside her.
"Mother..."
"Baekhyun, darling," she says, gently so. "I - "
Something in him, abstract as it is, crashes into the shore and breaks, breaks, breaks, and then retreats. Nothing can ever be the same again.
"Don't," he begs. "No, please...please..."
I love you -
- please don't go.
A ghastly splatter of red held in suspension between the black - the plague sweeping across the city and the countryside, nationwide - and the white - the sky that watches it happen, and only watches.
Baekhyun, standing on the verge of despair, looks up through the bars of the city at the sky, and wishes he is there.
▷
All he knows is that he is running out of time.
Baekhyun's face bears the resemblance of tear stains, tracking down from his eyes, spilling past his chin. His back hunched in a desperate attempt at self-defence, except this couldn't possible protect him from what was killing him slowly inside-out. Once again, he forced himself to swallow the urge to throw up. Nausea feasts on his barely intact train of thoughts, and when he hears the doorknob turn, he is slow, too slow, in responding.
"B...Baekhyun?"
It happened in slow motion. The shock, the fear, the anxiety...everything folding together, shrinking, then expanding, then imploding on themselves as Baekhyun's body finally collapses. A startled cry escapes from him, and from Sehun as well.
"Baekhyun!" A hand was there to support his head, warm against the cold of his skin, and another was checking his temperature. "What the fuck is going on with you?"
Byun Baekhyun, get your wits back together, the voice inside him screeched.
"I'll go find Yixing, alright? Just...wait here, I'll run to get him...and..."
Baekhyun had no idea where he managed to find a single ounce of energy, enough for him to push Sehun away from him. The abruptness of his rejection managed to send Sehun backwards, and somehow, while he was seized by yet another wave of nausea, Baekhyun saw that his shove had caused Sehun to crash into the base of the wardrobe.
"Fuck," Sehun cursed. He touched his hand to his face. It came back, stained in red.
Baekhyun's face reddens with mortification. I'm sorry, he meant to say, I'm sorry I hurt you. but all that escaped him was rage and frustration.
"Get out." He wished he could stop himself. "Get the fuck out."
"Baekhyun..."
"Get. Out."
It already felt like he was nearing the end.
▷
Baekhyun stops in front of a shop with a small wooden sign hanging from a wrought-iron spear projecting from the weathered stone wall.
On it, the word ‘Welcome' is lettered in spidery gold against dull black. It creaks as it swings in the night wind. Outside, it is deserted and cold. The plague lingers. Inside, however, warmth fills every nook and cranny of the room. Light flickers, casting long, shuddering shadows on the floor and on the walls.
It doesn't take long for someone to spot him, standing at the door, looking unsure. Two men walks to him with an air of confidence - drunk. One attempts a smile but it ends up being a half-sneer. Baekhyun stills, eyes going wide.
They are both Suits, which means that they now wield a significant amount of authority in this area. This is an industrial town and thus, the power of the Scholars stops short right on the outskirts. The Hunters used to crown this area but since the appearance of the plague, the bravery of the Hunters has only cost them their lives, making it possible for the Suits, however deplorable their morals, to step in between the cracks.
The taller of the two asks, "Alone?"
Baekhyun's eyes, carefully lined with kohl, flicker from face to face as if rapidly collecting details or assembling a jigsaw puzzle. He nods. They then offer to buy him a drink. He declines. He isn't here for this.
One of them motion to Baekhyun his forefinger. Baekhyun, not knowing what else to do and not wanting to cause a scene, steps closer,apprehensive.
"You see that, I just made you come with a finger - imagine what I can do with the rest of them."
A flush of embarrassment colors Baekhyun's cheeks, quickly replaced by anger. He desperately scans the pub for a familiar face - the one he is looking for - but can't find her. His aunt, his mother's younger sister, is his last hope. If he can't find her, or if she refuses to take him under her wings, he will die.
Instead of finding the loudmouthed, vivacious woman, however, Baekhyun finds a Foreign sitting in front of the counter. Red hair, leather jacket, and the outline of a gun in his pocket. He is wearing glasses. Round glasses. But he looks nothing like a Scholar. A Hunter, perhaps?
The two men are still waiting for an answer, but Baekhyun isn't - can't possibly be - what they are looking for: an one-night lover. He tries to ignore them and makes his way to the counter, but they follow.
"Hey - " The man who made a move on him earlier reaches to grab him.
In the next instant, a fist is swinging into the side of man's head. The blow is so short, sharp and unexpected that nobody reacts.
Then the man is holding his face. Wide-eyed. Shocked. Pained.
"What the fuck," he yells, one eye forced shut from the hit. Having regain his senses, he tries to retaliate.
He doesn't stand a chance against the Foreign, who is clearly the better fighter. Grabbing the Suit's upraised hand, he wrenches it backwards, twisting it up his spine.
"Maybe you should pick on someone your own size," he says, a smile playing on his lips.
The Suit's eyes reddens from both anger and shame, "What is your fucking problem?"
"Honestly?" The Foreign looks at Baekhyun, "If he weighed another hundred pounds, I'd call it even and watch him kick your ass."
The Suit struggles to free himself from the Foreign's hold. "Fuck off!"
The Foreign twists the arm higher. The Suit grunts and rises on his toes. Pain blazes its way down his back. He looks to his companion for help, but his cowardly friend only takes a step back, ready to bail on him.
"Apologize," the Foreign orders.
"Like hell I would!"
Another twist.
"Fuck! Alright, alright," the Suit pants, both eyes squeezed shut in pain, "I'm sorry!"
The Foreign looks to Baekhyun, who tries to smile. It comes out shaky, but this seems to amuse the Foreign.
"Sorry for what?"
"I'm sorry for hitting on you, sir," the Suit shouts. His face is purple and Baekhyun wonders how close his arm is to being dislocated. "I was rude, I won't do it again, so please - "
"That will do," Baekhyun says, tearing his eyes away from the writhing man. There is no point holding grudges when they are all just men waiting for their turn to die.
The Foreign nods, then lets go. The Suit lands on the floor with a yelp as he crashes against a table after being released. Quickly scrambling to his feet, he is almost immediately out of the place, his companion following right behind.
"Here," the Foreign offers his drink to Baekhyun, "This will settle your nerves."
Scotch. Neat.
The Foreign orders another for himself. Baekhyun watches his throat as he swallows.
"Thank you," Baekhyun starts. "And...um, my name's Baekhyun."
"Zitao."
Silence reigns for a moment before Zitao speaks again, "You don't belong to places like this."
Baekhyun looks away. "I don't belong anywhere."
Zitao gives him an appraising look. His face flexes an idle thought, as though an annoying insect has buzzed across his field of vision, and comes to a decision. Then, he says, "You can belong somewhere."
Baekhyun laughs, "God knows I try."
"And this is him giving you a chance," Zitao answers. "I'm feeling the impulse to do something unwise."
"Which is?"
"Asking you to join me and my crew on a journey."
"A journey?" Baekhyun stares at Zitao. He comes to a realization. "You mean - ?"
"The skies," Zitao whispers. Baekhyun's heart skips a beat. "Come with us?"
Baekhyun can't seem to speak, stunned by the offer and what it means to him.
"Baekhyun," Zitao asks again, "Won't you come with me?"
Baekhyun looks up through the bars of the city at the sky, and -
- and takes Zitao's hand.
▷
The next day, the first thing Zitao did was to seek Baekhyun out. Baekhyun knew this because there was a spot of toothpaste stain Zitao had missed and he had forgotten to roll up his sleeves. Baekhyun didn't know he could fall deeper in love with the man standing in front of him.
"We need to talk," Zitao said. He dragged his fingers through his hair and shuffled his feet. For a captain who knew the skies like the back of his hand, Baekhyun was unexplored territory, a puzzle that had yet to be solved.
"He told you?" Baekhyun didn't sound surprised.
Zitao shook his head. "He didn't want me to know...but nothing that takes place on this ship goes unreported."
"As long as it concerns Sehun, I suppose," Baekhyun clarified. "Don't worry, I understand. It's my fault that he got hurt, and I'm sorry. I'll apologize to him later."
"Baekhyun…"
Baekhyun shook his head. "If you want me to tell you why I acted that way, I can't give you an answer. I don't know why myself." There was a quaver in his voice, so he cleared his throat. "I...I felt frustrated, alone...and envious? Jealous? I don't know which, or perhaps it was both."
"Baekhyun, just tell me what - "
"Tell you what? Tell you what's wrong? Tell you what I want?" Baekhyun muttered. And he laughed, sadly, and reached out as if to touch Zitao's face, but withdrew when he got close.
Too close.
Ever since Baekhyun had gotten on the ship and joined the crew, he had always been so careful of Zitao, almost afraid to touch him. "Sehun once told me that you were distant, miles away despite being right next to us, and I didn't know what he meant then until now," Zitao said. His voice was soft, hurt, and Baekhyun's fingers trembled. "He said, ‘There's an aloofness about Baekhyun, something that is more thoroughgoing than simple modesty or reticence. It's almost feral, and yet so fragile."
Baekhyun knew what that meant. The distance he had deliberately placed between himself and the others, especially Sehun and Zitao, had ended up enforcing a peculiar decorum on them all. Even himself. It was subtle, but it was definitely present, and it was always around. The whole ship acknowledged this both directly and subconsciously - no hugging, no roughhousing could include him. He was both untouchable and easily breakable. Even Ryeowook, the best navigator and healer on board, would only pat his shoulder tentatively, shy and cautious.
"Sehun asked me this the other day: ‘Why should he have defended his loneliness that way?'" Zitao met Baekhyun's gaze. "Even if you don't have the answers to everything else, can't you answer this? Where did your loneliness come from, Baekhyun, and isn't there any way to cure it?"
Baekhyun smiled at him across the distance - two arms' length spun to form a bridge across a galactic river that was almost impossible to cross, and his smile was sad and hard, and it meant estrangement, even when the two of them were in the same room, so close to touching, both physically and spiritually. What have I got to lose? he wondered to himself, Zitao was never his to begin with.
"I suppose death is the one responsible," he said, "And no, I'm afraid there isn't a way to cure it."
Indeed, death would find him eventually. It would consume him like it had consumed others. Flesh and bone, whole, nothing left untouched. It was only a matter of time, and nobody could stop time.
▷
"Here we are."
"Whoa." Baekhyun took off his jacket. He had thrown away just about everything he owned that morning: his wig, his father's wristwatch, his mother's handkerchief, and his brother's favourite pen. He kept the photo, the only one he had of them, and it was taken by Chanyeol (with the help of Mr Park, of course).
"I know," Zitao laughed, pride in his voice, "Isn't she beautiful?"
His laughed seemed to have aroused in Baekhyun feelings he couldn't quite understand. Some sort of appreciation for the present, along with a wistful indignation when he thought back on the past and the future...and the lack of anything that extends beyond an immediate future.
"Zitao!"
Baekhyun instinctively took a step back as a figure ran towards them. "Asshole!" He watched as Zitao gave another laugh, then reached out to pull Sehun into his arms. Sehun was just a tad taller than Zitao, and his hair was messed up by the wind, and he dropped all pretense of indifference and annoyance when he saw that Zitao had brought someone with him.
"Another one?" Sehun asked, peering at Baekhyun closely, "Didn't you say - "
"Sehun," Zitao interrupted, "This is Baekhyun. We're giving him a lift."
"Oh!" The confusion in Sehun's eyes cleared away. "I see...I'll tell Junmyeon and have him clear out a room for him." He turned back to Baekhyun, smiling with his eyes, and reached a hand out for a handshake. "I'm Sehun," he introduced, "and I don't really have a proper role other than being the captain's lover."
The captain...Zitao's…
And as Black Pearl took flight and set sail, Baekhyun's heart sank deep in an ocean of unidentified emotions.
▷
Baekhyun did a good job avoiding everyone until, having had quite enough of his cowardly response, Zitao and Sehun cornered him, in his own room no less.
"Let me guess," Baekhyun laughed, "We need to talk."
Sehun and Zitao exchanged a look, as if there were an understanding between them, and it irked Baekhyun that he didn't know what it meant.
Sehun was the one to say "Yes, we do." and Zitao nodded in agreement.
Outside, it had begun to thunder and rain, one of those storms tht would come after dark and change the tides.
Baekhyun shook his head. "I don't see the need," his eyes flicked to Zitao, "it didn't go well the last time we tried. The both of you experienced it for yourselves."
"That's because we were ready to talk but you weren't." Sehun's voice softened, "Baekhyun, please."
Sehun's plea meant a lot more than just Let us talk. and Baekhyun knew this. He also knew that he shouldn't agree. He had measured out his life with teaspoons and he knew voices that had died with dying fall. His own was dying even as he spoke.
"There's no point..." he whispered, defeated.
"There is," Zitao said, taking a step forward, arms reaching to hold Baekhyun in them. Lips pressed against Baekhyun's forehead and he let out a whimper, one trapped between heartnumbing fear and abject longing. Voices sang in his ears, saying that this was all folly, but he couldn't stop himself, nor could he stop them. Another weight, another warmth. Sehun had joined them.
Outside, the storm was joined by stars, barely twinkling as they sat with the troubled midnight, watching as fate unfolded.
How much time do they have left?
▷
"Baekhyun."
Sehun and Zitao opened their eyes at the same time. They found that they were standing in the dark, accompanied by a stray strand of wind. Grimy scraps of withered leaves about their feet, a winter evening settling down. It wasn't their dream. They could smell the burnt-out end of smoky days.
"Baekhyun."
They called out his name gently for it was something they had come to treasure. Their voices rang in their own ears. Bells sang in the distance. Together, they felt the anguish of the marrow, pulled tight about the skeleton of memories. Sehun reached out for Zitao's hand and Zitao took it, held it like it was the only thing left to save him, but no contact could possibly allay the fever of the bone.
"Baekhyun, are you here? Can you hear us?"
A wave of nausea hit them, a punch to their lungs, and they heaved, throwing up the memories high and dry: a mess of twisted things. The sense of loss was starting to devour them, and the rust of affection clung to them, the form that strength had left, and longing haunted only when they were asleep, like right now.
"Baekhyun, can you run?"
Their minds were filled with images of their lover, shivering in the cold of a harsh winter evening, too weak to run from the death that had consumed everyone he loved, who loved him. He shouldn't stay there. He should run, run far away from the plague that was intent on killing, killing, and killing.
"Baekhyun, can you fly?"
By now, the voice was shouting, amplified by a fear so great that even Baekhyun felt it.
No, I can't, they heard. "But I want to."
▷
"Baekhyun."
The storm has stopped. The world is filled with blackness darker than night, deeper than the wounds carved in human souls by their own destinies. A hesitant touch of fresh air in Baekhyun's lungs tickles and so does the touch of Sehun's breath against the back of his neck. He makes a sound at the back of his throat and Sehun laughs. His laugh sounds more miserable than anything Baekyun's ever heard.
"Baekhyun."
The whisper of his name comes again. Baekhyun tightens his grip on Zitao's hand. He feels as if he is coming home after a long, weary journey, and yet, as he does so, he is leaving the ones he has travelled so far to find.
"I wish," Baekhyun begins. Sehun makes a gesture for him to stop speaking - he's worried. Baekhyun manages a smile as he shakes his head. If he doesn't say it now, they'll never be able to hear it.
"I wish I could've met you both sooner. I want to re-live all those moments - meeting the mermaids, watching Treasure Island go up in flames, taunting the plague as it chases after us, I want to keep on flying, and..." He pauses. "I want to love you. Love you bravely, thoroughly, and eternally."
He doesn't realize he's crying until he's dry-heaving, trying to contain the tears and the feeling of being torn apart by his lungs.
"I wish I hadn't spend all my life looking up, thinking that what I truly want is there, when it's in fact," his hands touch their faces gently, "right here. With you."
▷
Side by side, hand in hand, Sehun and Zitao look up through the bars of the sky at what rested beyond the stars, and wish they were there.
With him.
From: ANONYMOUS until December 30, 2014
Title: I Wish I Could Follow You
Rating: PG
Pairing(s)/Focus: Baekhyun/Tao/Sehun
Length: 5,607 words
Summary: Baekhyun looks up through the bars of the city at the sky, and wishes he is there.
Warnings: Character death
Notes: Dear recipient, I'm afraid this is far from Steampunk!AU and definitely far from what I had planned in my head when I first received your prompt, but I hope you like it nonetheless? Thank you for the great prompts! Also, thank you (x10000000) to the mods who've been so kind and patient! (Also, unbeta-ed so I apologize in advance for any horrendous mistakes/typos.)
"Baekhyun."
Baekhyun opened his eyes and found that he was standing in the dark alone. Grimy scraps of withered leaves about his feet, a winter evening settling down, he was lost. While he didn't know where he was, he could smell the burnt-out end of smoky days. Sure enough, as soon as he thought it, a mysterious yellow fog filled the air. Just like him, it was a strange presence, unfamiliar with its surroundings, an alien in a world of blackness.
"Baekhyun."
This time, the voice was louder and it echoed in his ears. Bells started ringing in the distance. They sounded familiar. The familiarity tugged at his feet. He reached out, arms thrown out, and grasped nothing but thin air. The fog mimicked him and it stretched itself thin, rubbing its back against him, pressing its muzzle on his shoulder. Then, as if it sensed his frustration, the fog pulled away and started licking its tongue into the corners of the night, lingering on pools of memories. Baekhyun could only watch it try to catch what he couldn't quite manage to.
"Baekhyun, are you here? Can you hear us?"
Yes, Baekhyun parted his lips to say. Nothing. He'd lost his voice too. Yes, I can, he thought, Can you hear me?
Held captive by his own body, he could only helplessly watch on as the fog, with increasing difficulty, fended itself against the soot that fell from the darkness which surrounded them. It made sudden leaps, trying to escape the smell of decay, only to fall into one of the pools of memories it had previously steered clear of.
"Baekhyun, can you run?"
No, Baekhyun thought. He couldn't move. Dread filled his lungs instead of air. It was a family friend his parents had often invited over for a meal or two every weekend. Slowly, pain sewed itself along the end of his spine and up, up, up until it reached the base of his neck. There, it exploded, just as the fog melted into the pool. Dread was replaced by memories; Baekhyun never thought the latter could be worse, but it was.
"Baekhyun, can you fly?"
By now, the voice was shouting, amplified by a fear so great that even Baekhyun felt it.
No, I can't, was his last thought before he startled awake.
Drenched in sweat, dowsed in the soft glow of the rising sun, the rest of his reply tumbled out in a voice cracked by the remnants of a recurring nightmare.
"But I want to."
▷
Six-year-old Baekhyun is seated on the dinning table, next to a vase of shrivelled lilies and a basket of half sunken fruits. His fringe is too long and his hair ends up framing his face. He's often mistaken as a girl, but he doesn't hate it when the grocery shop owner, Mrs Kim, gives them an extra packet of sugar because of that.
"Mommy?"
"Yes, sweetie?"
"Where did they go? I wanna play...but now I have nobody to play with..."
His father and his elder brother left the house long before the crack of dawn. Hunting, Baekhyun's been told that's what they're doing. They hunt for things to eat, chasing footprints of the most elusive creatures, and Baekhyun's mother tells him that one of the most magnificent creatures - rarely ever found these days - is called Hope.
"I'm afraid you're gonna have to play on your own, dearie. Or you can go back to your room and draw something? So you can show it to them when they're back? I'm sure they'll like that."
Little Baekhyun's eyes brighten. Then, he's off the table, small feet taking to the stair. His enthusiasm is infectious, bringing a smile to Mrs Byun's face, and she listens fondly to the "thump thump thump" of Baekhyun's footsteps leading him to his room. It is only erased when she looks out of the window and finds that a storm is fast approaching.
Worry settles over the kitchen, a thin layer of anxiety that, when swiped and tested, tastes of blood.
Back in his room, Baekhyun jumps onto his bed. He grabs his pillow and sits it between his back and the wall, pulls his blanket over his legs, and ponders over what he's going to draw. Now that he's calmed down (slightly), he doesn't quite know. These days, adults have all been rather...gloomy. His parents rarely smile, always tense and apprehensive, and even his brother is starting to become so. "I need to draw something nice," he decides, and says this out loud, "Something happy."
He sits perfectly still for a minute, smiling into space, considering.
Something happy…
By the time he's called downstairs to help set up the dining table, Baekhyun has two drawings done. The first is a city with slanted walls and oddly shaped roofs, resting atop the clouds, painted rainbow. The second is a flash of white in a tangle of dark, bad things - creepy centipedes, venomous snakes, and all that lurks when lightning strikes; at the top of the picture, Baekhyun has written, shakily: Hope.
Before he leaves his room, Baekhyun looks out of his window, looks up through the bars of the city at the sky, and wishes he is there.
▷
Baekhyun gripped the edge of the window, feeling dizzy and sick. His head wouldn't stop spinning. Dread seized him upon the realisation that he had finished the last dose three days ago. He was supposed to take another one in the morning.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
He fought down panic and the tears that always came with it. His heart began to race, and his skin turned clammy. What a fool he was, embarking on this trip without the certainty that he could last long enough to finish it. On top of that, he was both a waste of precious resources and a liability for Black Pearl and her crew.
"Ha!" His laugh was more like a cry.
"Baekhyun?"
It was Sehun. Baekhyun knew that he had to get the door. He checked the mirror one more time as he crossed the small space of his room and saw his own ghost reflected there. His fingers, cold, found the lock and pulled, then he was face to face with Sehun.
"Dinner's ready," Sehun explained, then he frowned, the hooded ridges above his eyes drawing together. "Are you okay?" He stepped closer and lowered his voice. "You look really pale."
Baekhyun touched a hand to his cheek. He couldn't tell which was warmer. "Just a little queasy," he said, "but I'll be fine with some food in my stomach. I guess I just need some time to get used to all…this." He gestured at the lone window and the view it held: stray strands of clouds carried across the vast blackness by an independent breeze.
Sehun didn't look too convinced, but he stepped aside when Baekhyun made to move out of his room, holding the door for him, ceremoniously, smiling at him, and helped close the door when Baekhyun forgot.
Sehun's shook something inside Baekhyun. His resolve, perhaps. "Sorry," he said, "for all the trouble I've caused." He put his hands to his face and took a breath.
When he looked up again, Sehun had another frown on his face.
"I mean - "
"Stop apologizing." Sehun turned away, as if he didn't want to stick around any longer. "There's nothing to apologize for."
Oh, you have no idea, Baekhyun thought, watching Sehun walk away in the direction of the dining hall, there's too much to apologize for.
His thought was replaced by that of Zitao's smile, Zitao's laugh, Zitao's voice...and all of a sudden they were overlapped by Sehun's. He found that there was gravity in that gesture, one that he couldn't afford to indulge in.
"Baekhyun, can you fly?"
▷
"Mommy?"
Eight-year-old Baekhyun is afraid. He has never seen his mother act like this before. She is crying silently and somehow, this feels a hundred times worse than the way Baekhyun cries when he's scrapped his knees or bruised a finger - loud, earth-shaking. The silence cuts deep into Baekhyun's sides, and his tears are quick to fall when his mother doesn't reply. She can't reply. The grief is too great, too overpowering.
"Mommy..." Baekhyun's lips part and he can taste his own tears, and they blur his vision. Tiny hands reach out to grab for bigger ones to hold, longing their warmth, but when they touch, it's cold. As cold as his father and his brother's bodies when the Park siblings brought them back, which cloths, black as night, pulled over them.
They stand in the middle of an airy white room with tall windows, and it's here that Baekhyun finally learns what he's been taught for years: one of the most magnificent creatures - rarely ever found these days - is called Hope.
Held in a tight embrace which reeks of lily-of-the-valley, Baekhyun looks out of the window, looks up through the bars of the city at the sky, and wishes he is there.
▷
"Am I interrupting something?"
Even if he did, Baekhyun made sure to look nonchalant about it. Zitao and Sehun exchanged a look. Baekhyun took that as invitation to squeeze himself between them, ignoring the way their bodies stilled from what appeared to a mix of surprise and unwillingness.
"You said you were tired," Sehun said, tone accusing. Baekhyun's laughter sailed on, accompanied by Black Pearl as it glided steadily across the sea of clouds and stars.
"I am." Baekhyun tried not to get lost in the map of constellations and memories. "But no matter how I tried, I couldn't fall asleep."
Baekhyun returned his attention to the night sky. Flickering lights, time and space compressed, and for a brief moment, before Zitao's voice drew him back, he wondered if they would embrace him if he was to let himself fall in their midst.
"You have a question for us." Baekhyun hated that it wasn't a question.
On his left, Sehun was leaning back, trying to act all casual, but Baekhyun knew that it was so that Zitao and Sehun's hands could continue holding hands behind his back. One would think that two sky pirates wouldn't know what romance was even if it was to yell in their faces. Hopeless, Baekhyun thought, and a voice in him retorted. Them? Or you?
Baekhyun didn't know what the answer was. All he knew was that he was running out of time.
"Baekhyun?"
The question mark the two of them would add behind his name was becoming more of a habit than a rare occurrence.
Baekhyun blinked. It took a moment for him to gather back his senses and the feeling of control. Or rather, the illusion of such a feeling. "Say," he began, "Why did you become sky pirates?"
Sehun's immediate response was a frown. Zitao's was a laugh. His laugh echoed Baekhyun's and it too was sucked away by the darkness they were sitting in the middle of. Baekhyun waited for a proper reply.
Sehun spoke first. His voice was soft and the wind would have carried it away if Baekhyun had not catch it in time.
"Zitao."
Baekhyun tried the grasp the answer Sehun gave him. Before he could open his mouth to ask, Sehun spoke again.
"Being a sky pirate isn't easy. Everyone is loud and stinky and we don't always get a big loot. It's dangerous and we're always either doing the chasing or being chased. My dreams reek of blood and money." Baekhyun regretted sitting between them. "In a life of inconsistencies, he is the only consistent thing I need. That's why."
Baekhyun turned to Zitao and couldn't help but wonder: when did the stars move into his eyes? For a second, Zitao looked like he was going to say something he would regret, but he didn't. He looked away and his expression told Baekhyun that he was remembering something bad.
"I'm not blaming you." Sehun's eyes were locked on Baekhyun's but his words were for Zitao.
I love you, Baekhyun heard what Sehun didn't say. Then, for no apparent reason, he found that emptiness filled his lungs instead of air. It was getting hard for him to breathe. Sehun wasn't looking away. The sadness in his eyes was a familiar friend of Baekhyun's.
"Well," Baekhyun forced a laugh, "This is getting awkward." Sehun jolts and Baekhyun was relieved of the spell Sehun had unknowingly placed him under. "And I hate awkward things. I think I'd rather go back to my room and stare at the ceiling than to continue sitting between the two of you and making things worse. This is me running away."
Back in his room, far away from the intensity of Sehun's sad gaze and the unflinching cold of being the odd one out, Baekhyun's legs gave up on him almost instantly. He wheezed in breath after breath but it wasn't enough. He reached out and pressed a hand above his heart. His nails digged against soft skin and a longing he couldn't quite chase away.
That night, sleep didn't come to him.
▷
"Baekhyun."
His mother is right there, far beyond his reach, standing on the verge of despair.
"Mother," fifteen-year-old Baekhyun says, mustering himself, "what are you doing?"
She simply smiles. That sad, sad smile she's been wearing for years. Ever since the black death took her husband and her firstborn away, ripping them so far out of her reach, just like how it is now, perched right over the edge, where only the wind can touch her. Baekhyun dares not take another step forward, knowing that he mustn't give her the reason to take one step back. The last step.
"It's hard, you know, after so many years," his mother is speaking, but it is hard for Baekhyun to take in a single word. His ears are ringing. Fear is playing a frantic beat with his heart. His blood is running cold. She has that look on her face: the one she wears when she thinks that he is still asleep and can't quite find it in his heart to wake him again, the one she wears at funerals, and the one she wears to mask the darkness growing inside her.
"Mother..."
"Baekhyun, darling," she says, gently so. "I - "
Something in him, abstract as it is, crashes into the shore and breaks, breaks, breaks, and then retreats. Nothing can ever be the same again.
"Don't," he begs. "No, please...please..."
I love you -
- please don't go.
A ghastly splatter of red held in suspension between the black - the plague sweeping across the city and the countryside, nationwide - and the white - the sky that watches it happen, and only watches.
Baekhyun, standing on the verge of despair, looks up through the bars of the city at the sky, and wishes he is there.
▷
All he knows is that he is running out of time.
Baekhyun's face bears the resemblance of tear stains, tracking down from his eyes, spilling past his chin. His back hunched in a desperate attempt at self-defence, except this couldn't possible protect him from what was killing him slowly inside-out. Once again, he forced himself to swallow the urge to throw up. Nausea feasts on his barely intact train of thoughts, and when he hears the doorknob turn, he is slow, too slow, in responding.
"B...Baekhyun?"
It happened in slow motion. The shock, the fear, the anxiety...everything folding together, shrinking, then expanding, then imploding on themselves as Baekhyun's body finally collapses. A startled cry escapes from him, and from Sehun as well.
"Baekhyun!" A hand was there to support his head, warm against the cold of his skin, and another was checking his temperature. "What the fuck is going on with you?"
Byun Baekhyun, get your wits back together, the voice inside him screeched.
"I'll go find Yixing, alright? Just...wait here, I'll run to get him...and..."
Baekhyun had no idea where he managed to find a single ounce of energy, enough for him to push Sehun away from him. The abruptness of his rejection managed to send Sehun backwards, and somehow, while he was seized by yet another wave of nausea, Baekhyun saw that his shove had caused Sehun to crash into the base of the wardrobe.
"Fuck," Sehun cursed. He touched his hand to his face. It came back, stained in red.
Baekhyun's face reddens with mortification. I'm sorry, he meant to say, I'm sorry I hurt you. but all that escaped him was rage and frustration.
"Get out." He wished he could stop himself. "Get the fuck out."
"Baekhyun..."
"Get. Out."
It already felt like he was nearing the end.
▷
Baekhyun stops in front of a shop with a small wooden sign hanging from a wrought-iron spear projecting from the weathered stone wall.
On it, the word ‘Welcome' is lettered in spidery gold against dull black. It creaks as it swings in the night wind. Outside, it is deserted and cold. The plague lingers. Inside, however, warmth fills every nook and cranny of the room. Light flickers, casting long, shuddering shadows on the floor and on the walls.
It doesn't take long for someone to spot him, standing at the door, looking unsure. Two men walks to him with an air of confidence - drunk. One attempts a smile but it ends up being a half-sneer. Baekhyun stills, eyes going wide.
They are both Suits, which means that they now wield a significant amount of authority in this area. This is an industrial town and thus, the power of the Scholars stops short right on the outskirts. The Hunters used to crown this area but since the appearance of the plague, the bravery of the Hunters has only cost them their lives, making it possible for the Suits, however deplorable their morals, to step in between the cracks.
The taller of the two asks, "Alone?"
Baekhyun's eyes, carefully lined with kohl, flicker from face to face as if rapidly collecting details or assembling a jigsaw puzzle. He nods. They then offer to buy him a drink. He declines. He isn't here for this.
One of them motion to Baekhyun his forefinger. Baekhyun, not knowing what else to do and not wanting to cause a scene, steps closer,apprehensive.
"You see that, I just made you come with a finger - imagine what I can do with the rest of them."
A flush of embarrassment colors Baekhyun's cheeks, quickly replaced by anger. He desperately scans the pub for a familiar face - the one he is looking for - but can't find her. His aunt, his mother's younger sister, is his last hope. If he can't find her, or if she refuses to take him under her wings, he will die.
Instead of finding the loudmouthed, vivacious woman, however, Baekhyun finds a Foreign sitting in front of the counter. Red hair, leather jacket, and the outline of a gun in his pocket. He is wearing glasses. Round glasses. But he looks nothing like a Scholar. A Hunter, perhaps?
The two men are still waiting for an answer, but Baekhyun isn't - can't possibly be - what they are looking for: an one-night lover. He tries to ignore them and makes his way to the counter, but they follow.
"Hey - " The man who made a move on him earlier reaches to grab him.
In the next instant, a fist is swinging into the side of man's head. The blow is so short, sharp and unexpected that nobody reacts.
Then the man is holding his face. Wide-eyed. Shocked. Pained.
"What the fuck," he yells, one eye forced shut from the hit. Having regain his senses, he tries to retaliate.
He doesn't stand a chance against the Foreign, who is clearly the better fighter. Grabbing the Suit's upraised hand, he wrenches it backwards, twisting it up his spine.
"Maybe you should pick on someone your own size," he says, a smile playing on his lips.
The Suit's eyes reddens from both anger and shame, "What is your fucking problem?"
"Honestly?" The Foreign looks at Baekhyun, "If he weighed another hundred pounds, I'd call it even and watch him kick your ass."
The Suit struggles to free himself from the Foreign's hold. "Fuck off!"
The Foreign twists the arm higher. The Suit grunts and rises on his toes. Pain blazes its way down his back. He looks to his companion for help, but his cowardly friend only takes a step back, ready to bail on him.
"Apologize," the Foreign orders.
"Like hell I would!"
Another twist.
"Fuck! Alright, alright," the Suit pants, both eyes squeezed shut in pain, "I'm sorry!"
The Foreign looks to Baekhyun, who tries to smile. It comes out shaky, but this seems to amuse the Foreign.
"Sorry for what?"
"I'm sorry for hitting on you, sir," the Suit shouts. His face is purple and Baekhyun wonders how close his arm is to being dislocated. "I was rude, I won't do it again, so please - "
"That will do," Baekhyun says, tearing his eyes away from the writhing man. There is no point holding grudges when they are all just men waiting for their turn to die.
The Foreign nods, then lets go. The Suit lands on the floor with a yelp as he crashes against a table after being released. Quickly scrambling to his feet, he is almost immediately out of the place, his companion following right behind.
"Here," the Foreign offers his drink to Baekhyun, "This will settle your nerves."
Scotch. Neat.
The Foreign orders another for himself. Baekhyun watches his throat as he swallows.
"Thank you," Baekhyun starts. "And...um, my name's Baekhyun."
"Zitao."
Silence reigns for a moment before Zitao speaks again, "You don't belong to places like this."
Baekhyun looks away. "I don't belong anywhere."
Zitao gives him an appraising look. His face flexes an idle thought, as though an annoying insect has buzzed across his field of vision, and comes to a decision. Then, he says, "You can belong somewhere."
Baekhyun laughs, "God knows I try."
"And this is him giving you a chance," Zitao answers. "I'm feeling the impulse to do something unwise."
"Which is?"
"Asking you to join me and my crew on a journey."
"A journey?" Baekhyun stares at Zitao. He comes to a realization. "You mean - ?"
"The skies," Zitao whispers. Baekhyun's heart skips a beat. "Come with us?"
Baekhyun can't seem to speak, stunned by the offer and what it means to him.
"Baekhyun," Zitao asks again, "Won't you come with me?"
Baekhyun looks up through the bars of the city at the sky, and -
- and takes Zitao's hand.
▷
The next day, the first thing Zitao did was to seek Baekhyun out. Baekhyun knew this because there was a spot of toothpaste stain Zitao had missed and he had forgotten to roll up his sleeves. Baekhyun didn't know he could fall deeper in love with the man standing in front of him.
"We need to talk," Zitao said. He dragged his fingers through his hair and shuffled his feet. For a captain who knew the skies like the back of his hand, Baekhyun was unexplored territory, a puzzle that had yet to be solved.
"He told you?" Baekhyun didn't sound surprised.
Zitao shook his head. "He didn't want me to know...but nothing that takes place on this ship goes unreported."
"As long as it concerns Sehun, I suppose," Baekhyun clarified. "Don't worry, I understand. It's my fault that he got hurt, and I'm sorry. I'll apologize to him later."
"Baekhyun…"
Baekhyun shook his head. "If you want me to tell you why I acted that way, I can't give you an answer. I don't know why myself." There was a quaver in his voice, so he cleared his throat. "I...I felt frustrated, alone...and envious? Jealous? I don't know which, or perhaps it was both."
"Baekhyun, just tell me what - "
"Tell you what? Tell you what's wrong? Tell you what I want?" Baekhyun muttered. And he laughed, sadly, and reached out as if to touch Zitao's face, but withdrew when he got close.
Too close.
Ever since Baekhyun had gotten on the ship and joined the crew, he had always been so careful of Zitao, almost afraid to touch him. "Sehun once told me that you were distant, miles away despite being right next to us, and I didn't know what he meant then until now," Zitao said. His voice was soft, hurt, and Baekhyun's fingers trembled. "He said, ‘There's an aloofness about Baekhyun, something that is more thoroughgoing than simple modesty or reticence. It's almost feral, and yet so fragile."
Baekhyun knew what that meant. The distance he had deliberately placed between himself and the others, especially Sehun and Zitao, had ended up enforcing a peculiar decorum on them all. Even himself. It was subtle, but it was definitely present, and it was always around. The whole ship acknowledged this both directly and subconsciously - no hugging, no roughhousing could include him. He was both untouchable and easily breakable. Even Ryeowook, the best navigator and healer on board, would only pat his shoulder tentatively, shy and cautious.
"Sehun asked me this the other day: ‘Why should he have defended his loneliness that way?'" Zitao met Baekhyun's gaze. "Even if you don't have the answers to everything else, can't you answer this? Where did your loneliness come from, Baekhyun, and isn't there any way to cure it?"
Baekhyun smiled at him across the distance - two arms' length spun to form a bridge across a galactic river that was almost impossible to cross, and his smile was sad and hard, and it meant estrangement, even when the two of them were in the same room, so close to touching, both physically and spiritually. What have I got to lose? he wondered to himself, Zitao was never his to begin with.
"I suppose death is the one responsible," he said, "And no, I'm afraid there isn't a way to cure it."
Indeed, death would find him eventually. It would consume him like it had consumed others. Flesh and bone, whole, nothing left untouched. It was only a matter of time, and nobody could stop time.
▷
"Here we are."
"Whoa." Baekhyun took off his jacket. He had thrown away just about everything he owned that morning: his wig, his father's wristwatch, his mother's handkerchief, and his brother's favourite pen. He kept the photo, the only one he had of them, and it was taken by Chanyeol (with the help of Mr Park, of course).
"I know," Zitao laughed, pride in his voice, "Isn't she beautiful?"
His laughed seemed to have aroused in Baekhyun feelings he couldn't quite understand. Some sort of appreciation for the present, along with a wistful indignation when he thought back on the past and the future...and the lack of anything that extends beyond an immediate future.
"Zitao!"
Baekhyun instinctively took a step back as a figure ran towards them. "Asshole!" He watched as Zitao gave another laugh, then reached out to pull Sehun into his arms. Sehun was just a tad taller than Zitao, and his hair was messed up by the wind, and he dropped all pretense of indifference and annoyance when he saw that Zitao had brought someone with him.
"Another one?" Sehun asked, peering at Baekhyun closely, "Didn't you say - "
"Sehun," Zitao interrupted, "This is Baekhyun. We're giving him a lift."
"Oh!" The confusion in Sehun's eyes cleared away. "I see...I'll tell Junmyeon and have him clear out a room for him." He turned back to Baekhyun, smiling with his eyes, and reached a hand out for a handshake. "I'm Sehun," he introduced, "and I don't really have a proper role other than being the captain's lover."
The captain...Zitao's…
And as Black Pearl took flight and set sail, Baekhyun's heart sank deep in an ocean of unidentified emotions.
▷
Baekhyun did a good job avoiding everyone until, having had quite enough of his cowardly response, Zitao and Sehun cornered him, in his own room no less.
"Let me guess," Baekhyun laughed, "We need to talk."
Sehun and Zitao exchanged a look, as if there were an understanding between them, and it irked Baekhyun that he didn't know what it meant.
Sehun was the one to say "Yes, we do." and Zitao nodded in agreement.
Outside, it had begun to thunder and rain, one of those storms tht would come after dark and change the tides.
Baekhyun shook his head. "I don't see the need," his eyes flicked to Zitao, "it didn't go well the last time we tried. The both of you experienced it for yourselves."
"That's because we were ready to talk but you weren't." Sehun's voice softened, "Baekhyun, please."
Sehun's plea meant a lot more than just Let us talk. and Baekhyun knew this. He also knew that he shouldn't agree. He had measured out his life with teaspoons and he knew voices that had died with dying fall. His own was dying even as he spoke.
"There's no point..." he whispered, defeated.
"There is," Zitao said, taking a step forward, arms reaching to hold Baekhyun in them. Lips pressed against Baekhyun's forehead and he let out a whimper, one trapped between heartnumbing fear and abject longing. Voices sang in his ears, saying that this was all folly, but he couldn't stop himself, nor could he stop them. Another weight, another warmth. Sehun had joined them.
Outside, the storm was joined by stars, barely twinkling as they sat with the troubled midnight, watching as fate unfolded.
How much time do they have left?
▷
"Baekhyun."
Sehun and Zitao opened their eyes at the same time. They found that they were standing in the dark, accompanied by a stray strand of wind. Grimy scraps of withered leaves about their feet, a winter evening settling down. It wasn't their dream. They could smell the burnt-out end of smoky days.
"Baekhyun."
They called out his name gently for it was something they had come to treasure. Their voices rang in their own ears. Bells sang in the distance. Together, they felt the anguish of the marrow, pulled tight about the skeleton of memories. Sehun reached out for Zitao's hand and Zitao took it, held it like it was the only thing left to save him, but no contact could possibly allay the fever of the bone.
"Baekhyun, are you here? Can you hear us?"
A wave of nausea hit them, a punch to their lungs, and they heaved, throwing up the memories high and dry: a mess of twisted things. The sense of loss was starting to devour them, and the rust of affection clung to them, the form that strength had left, and longing haunted only when they were asleep, like right now.
"Baekhyun, can you run?"
Their minds were filled with images of their lover, shivering in the cold of a harsh winter evening, too weak to run from the death that had consumed everyone he loved, who loved him. He shouldn't stay there. He should run, run far away from the plague that was intent on killing, killing, and killing.
"Baekhyun, can you fly?"
By now, the voice was shouting, amplified by a fear so great that even Baekhyun felt it.
No, I can't, they heard. "But I want to."
▷
"Baekhyun."
The storm has stopped. The world is filled with blackness darker than night, deeper than the wounds carved in human souls by their own destinies. A hesitant touch of fresh air in Baekhyun's lungs tickles and so does the touch of Sehun's breath against the back of his neck. He makes a sound at the back of his throat and Sehun laughs. His laugh sounds more miserable than anything Baekyun's ever heard.
"Baekhyun."
The whisper of his name comes again. Baekhyun tightens his grip on Zitao's hand. He feels as if he is coming home after a long, weary journey, and yet, as he does so, he is leaving the ones he has travelled so far to find.
"I wish," Baekhyun begins. Sehun makes a gesture for him to stop speaking - he's worried. Baekhyun manages a smile as he shakes his head. If he doesn't say it now, they'll never be able to hear it.
"I wish I could've met you both sooner. I want to re-live all those moments - meeting the mermaids, watching Treasure Island go up in flames, taunting the plague as it chases after us, I want to keep on flying, and..." He pauses. "I want to love you. Love you bravely, thoroughly, and eternally."
He doesn't realize he's crying until he's dry-heaving, trying to contain the tears and the feeling of being torn apart by his lungs.
"I wish I hadn't spend all my life looking up, thinking that what I truly want is there, when it's in fact," his hands touch their faces gently, "right here. With you."
▷
Side by side, hand in hand, Sehun and Zitao look up through the bars of the sky at what rested beyond the stars, and wish they were there.
With him.