SH 2014: Electrolytic (1/2) for krishoislove
For: krishoislove
From: ANONYMOUS until May 22, 2014
Title: Electrolytic
Rating: R
Pairing(s)/Focus: Suho/Chen
Length: 11300 words
Summary: Water conducts electricity, simple as that. That's the only halfway decent explanation as to why Joonmyun can feel Jongdae running through him, even when he's wishing the earth would up and swallow him whole.
Warning/s: Suicidal idealisations, mentions of murder, albeit accidental.
Notes: Thanks to H for betaing and not letting my whining get in the way of decent critique. Thanks to MW for being my consultant even though she had even less an idea of what I was doing than I did. A very special thank-you to B, who told me to keep going, and was never more harsh than need be.
The rain pattered against the sheet of flimsy tin over his head, and Joonmyun sighed, listening to the calming, repetitive chaos that was the weather for him today. He hadn't meant for it to happen; the depression just kind of got to him from time to time. He prayed that no one would be able to see onto his rooftop from their apartment window; they'd be completely confused by what it was they viewed, maybe even leave their houses with umbrellas or raincoats only to find that everywhere else it was dry as a bone.
He felt about this part the way he did about home: longing and misery with a hint of warm anger that snaked up his chest just enough for him to have to fruitlessly swallow it down. His comfort would be that he would go to the sea, take his raindrops with him, and hope that he didn't run into anyone on the way there.
(For a half-second he thought that the easiest way there would be over the side of his building, but... no, that wasn't appropriate. He was better than that. Mostly, anyhow.)
When he made it oceanside, he parked his bike, locked it up carefully, not wanting to end up stranded as he had a few times before. Then he knelt, rolled up his pants, cuffing them with meticulous attention, and kicked off his shoes, ignoring the discomfort of the aging pavement for the moment. As he walked to the line where water met earth, where his existence met this planet, he kicked up sand behind him, enjoying, at least, the way the grains crunched beneath his feet.
Staring out at the hazy, grey horizon, Joonmyun sunk down into the sand, his knees to his chin, his shoes beside him, his arms wrapped around his calves.
(perhaps if he were smaller he'd just disappear, erode away as the water slapped against him, become one with the sand and float away with the sea)
The Atlantic rose up to meet him, a crash of wave on wave on wave on shoreline, uncontrolled, undisturbed; he blinked back the tears as he attempted to make it stop, willing it to where it had been. He could damn near hear the mob gathering behind him, words as weapons, fists as pitchforks and torches. He'd thought that, since he was clearly not the only one of his kind, the minds of the majority would be at ease, at least a tiny bit, but he'd been wrong.
The Atlantic rose up to meet him, an enormous rise of water above the line of the ocean's steady pulse, lapping carefully at the sand; he held up his hands, shoved it away as quickly as he'd created it, and it cascaded backwards, giving in to his demands as easily as he felt he'd soon give in to the pressure not to exist. For a very long moment he considered throwing himself into the depths, feeling the water crash around his ears until they filled up his brain, washed away the thoughts that had plagued him for as long as he could remember.
The Atlantic rose up to meet him once more, unperturbed by his interference, his fear, his anger, his infinite sadness that sank as deep as its floor; he turned his back on it, crossed the shoreline back to the dirt road on which he'd walked to get here.
It would all be over soon, he thought darkly, narrowing his eyes at his own thoughts, and spent a great deal of time trying to relive the life from before, replaying every moment he could grasp hold of, calculating and recalculating where he'd gone wrong. Perhaps God, if He existed, was merely looking out for him. Worse yet, perhaps God had decided that he required spite and malice and deep-seeded rage in order to make it through one more time.
In any case, he prayed that he might feel something positive, just a quick something, before he entirely gave up.
He felt the Atlantic rise up to meet him just as the bile rose in his throat, and he choked on the curses, screams meant for no one and everyone, that he swallowed down to challenge it.
---
Kim Joonmyun had been in the United States for approximately seven months, hopping between one place and another. At present he was situated in New York, where there were just enough people that he wouldn't stand out no matter what he did -- there were always tragedies happening around, and he could just as easily blend in as the next superpowered alien dressed in human skin.
When he was not busy running, skirting corners and outsmarting the people who sought only to corner, terrify and probably kill him, Joonmyun was hidden in alcove atop a skyscraper, filled with his most precious things, including photographs of the friends he'd had once upon a time, the family that had loved him but thrown him out as soon as he'd known what he was, the siblings that had cheered him on at graduations and birthdays but would not acknowledge him if they saw him on the street. A blanket when the weather was chilly, two when it was downright cold, the two changes of clothes he used when he had to walk down to the laundromat for the third time in a week, a jacket and a pair of sweats bundled together for a pillow.
No one used his name anymore. It was getting to the point where he spent nights lying awake convinced that his previous life had been a lie, that he had never been the person as whom he'd been born into this world. It was a pleasant notion, one that brought a bright smile to his face and caused a calm mist that surrounded him in a cloud, lulling him to sleep. At least then, he'd murmur to himself as consciousness left him, he wouldn't have done what he'd done to get himself put on the map.
The nightmares were the worst part, he found as he woke up every morning, a scream pushing at the seam of his tight-pressed mouth, trying to wriggle out from between ground teeth. The looks on his friends' faces as they slowly filled up, the fear in their eyes, the gurgling that rose from their chests
---
He treated himself every once in a while, used the stolen money he coveted in order to get a coffee and a moment of peace around people. Sociability was not a strong suit of his by any means -- he'd spent far too much time running to be good at it anymore, choked when anyone so much as looked at him for a second too long -- but that didn't mean he misliked the warmth of an atmosphere full of people, the sounds of quiet chatter echoing from even the furthest corners. He especially enjoyed the soft, sparkling aura of coffee shops, the gentle guitar streaming in through speakers, the smells that wafted through the air.
It didn't help his loneliness at all when he people-watched, though: children that sprinted in circles, snatched up by adoring but inattentive mothers that sipped at their drinks and stared endlessly at their cell phones; self-important young yuppies with dreams that shone bright in their eyes; students with exhaustion written all over their faces, sadness in the set of their dragging limbs.
He traced the rim of his cup with a fingertip, pausing every time he felt the heat pouring out through the spout, and watched them all, wondering what it would be like to be close with any of them, to just go up and introduce himself--
Then the fantasy got away, nearly turned into a waking nightmare, because invariably he would end up hurting them the way he did everyone else.
Instead of dwelling on the fact that he was, in fact, alone in this country, on this continent, upon this planet, Joonmyun watched a particularly handsome couple. An older woman with a young professional, both in sharp business suits, reached across the table with one hand and brushed fingers against the back of each other's arms, their other hands wrapped tight around warm coffee cups. He felt a tingle of jealousy tickling his tonsils, swallowed it down hard, forcing himself to listen to the voices coming from behind the counter and not the way his heart whispered that he would probably be alone forever.
The barista called out his name, his order, and he forced a smile, knowing that these people became suspicious of you if you didn't have it in you to at least pretend to be polite. No one had the right to know that whether or not he was a walking man, he was dead on the inside.
---
He had been making his way back to his rooftop, prepared for another solitary evening that ended in anxiety and white knuckles wrapped around the hem of a jacket, when he noticed the stranger watching him from the street corner where his building sat. Joonmyun took a moment to study the other man's slight, almost skinny frame, his face and the prominent arches of his cheekbones, the way he held himself. Longish hair pushed back, well-curved shoulders that led to better-defined but thin arms, a slim body with a tiny waist, but most of all that mouth. It curled with excitement, with secrets, with things that Joonmyun had never in a million years thought to learn.
(and yet)
"Can I help you?" Joonmyun offered, friendly as he could be considering that he'd spent another day at the sea, using his excess energy to play with the immediate tides.
The stranger nodded, apparently fooled by Joonmyun's attempts at being kindly. "I'm going to do something stupid very soon," he said softly, the curl in his mouth growing exponentially despite the tone of his voice, lonely and a little depressed, disturbingly familiar to Joonmyun. His heart thudded at the prospect. "And I'd like to know if there's any reason that I shouldn't."
(and yet joonmyun found himself wanting to taste each and every word that mouth had ever spoken)
Joonmyun had every goddamn reason to trash this world, its people, its places, its things, its situations. But for once, he could say nothing awful to that effect, despite the fact that he really and truly wanted to; he was too caught up in the way this intruder grinned. "There are plenty of reasons, for me," he lied, crossing the distance between them, reaching out a hand and patting the stranger on the shoulder only to be met with a bright spark of static that caused him to shiver from his crown to his toes.
"Yeah?" he asked, eyebrows bunched together, stepping away from the touch. "I mean... I don't know. I've got it kind of weird." His mouth pinched together
(not unpleasantly, joonmyun noted, pursing his lips seriously; he doubted for a long moment that anything that mouth could do would ever be awful and god no he wasn't having those thoughts right now, no, never)
and he almost looked as if he wanted to say more, but didn't, instead biting down in his lower lip.
"Just remember," and Joonmyun smiled despite the fact that it exhausted him, "there's always tomorrow. The sunshine might be burning brighter when you wake up in the morning."
The man just nodded, his childish facade fading quickly into what appeared to be fatigue, and waved, fingers waggling a bit. "Thank you," he exhaled, turning and walking away. Joonmyun watched him go, tucking his hands into his pockets.
(he was so beautiful and joonmyun would never see him again just go say hello introduce yourself he probably has no idea who you are you paranoid f--)
"I'm Jongdae, by the way," the man offered casually over his shoulder, looking back, giving Joonmyun the chance to look at those cheekbones and that nose and those pouty lips in profile.
"I'm..." Except Joonmyun saw in his future the hatred and fear and inevitable awful end in being that intimate with someone, ignored the chill that skimmed the back of his neck as he shoved down the urge. "See you around," he called out, lips barely moving, and the guy turned back to give him the cheesiest wink Joonmyun had ever seen in his life. He hadn't meant it, the words were just something people said when they worried about others, but his pulse thrummed in his ears and for the first time in a long time he had hope that he would see another human being.
---
He spent a lot of time at the ocean. It was a habit of his; he tried to do it as much as possible, prove to himself that he had the same control here that he did at home. When he felt the tides rising with the moon's movement he took himself to the beach, watched the waves lap at the shore continuously, felt the cool water lap at his toes, inviting him in.
Occasionally, if the day was bad enough, he'd roll up his pant legs a little further, wade in, anticipate standing there until his legs gave out, wait for the water to take him.
Today, however, was not that day. When the sun started to hang low in the sky and he couldn't feel most of his lower body for having sat down so long, he flopped around, rolling onto his stomach, kicked the life back into his legs so that he could leave.
Something made him decide that it wasn't time. Perhaps one day he would be grateful to that something, but today was not that day, either.
---
Summer was storming its way into the city; it settled into his bones and his muscles despite the grey of the sky, tinging the mood of his days more often than not. He didn't overheat all that often, had the ability to suck in moisture from the air and cool himself down in case of emergency, which was entirely possible, he noted as he watched the waves of heat pouring up from between the cracks in the pavement.
There were so many people crowding the sidewalk that he almost felt that he couldn't move, was caught in a river without any flow, gridlocked with a thousand other salmon and drowning in their body heat. It wouldn't have bothered him, he would have been fine, except for the fact that he so happened to run into the interloper -- Jongdae, he reminded himself from the back of his mind -- and the guy wasn't looking very well at all.
This man was clearly ill judging by the hollows beneath his eyes, Joonmyun thought, reaching up and tapping his index finger against the line of his jaw. Melting from the inside out. He hadn't been in New York long enough for a full summer, but he knew from reading the paper this morning that there have been people hospitalised for heatstroke that he should probably be concerned. And, honestly, he'd feel this way about anyone, not just an apparent suicide survivor who he knew by name.
Jongdae waved, his hand raised over his head despite the obvious effort it took, and fought his way through the crowd to meet Joonmyun. The fever radiated from his sun-bronzed skin, and Joonmyun could swear he felt it crackle off him, the sweat disappearing into steam almost immediately.
"Hey there," Jongdae greeted, clapping his sticky palm to the bare curve of Joonmyun's shoulder -- too hot for real clothes, sleeves were out weeks ago -- and presenting the other with a grin bright as the sun looming overhead. "It's nice to see you again."
"You too," Joonmyun replied with a tilt of his head, the tip of his tongue poking out from between his teeth as he attempted to keep from spitting out vitriol that would sound suspiciously like 'I didn't expect to see you anywhere but on the news'. "How have you been since the last time?" His question was hesitant; he stared down at a crack in the sidewalk, pressed his palms together and drummed his fingertips on his knuckles.
"I'm alright, besides the whole dying-of-heat thing," Jongdae chirped, all bubbled-up glee despite the obvious effect the heat was having on him splayed all over his face. Joonmyun had to painfully endure the urge to reach out and wipe the droplets of sweat from Jongdae's brow, attempt to make him feel better. "What about you? You seemed... I don't know, off. When we met, I mean. Is everything better?"
Joonmyun was a bit taken aback, honestly; the degree to which he was unaccustomed to strangers asking about his well-being was utterly astronomical. He physically recoiled, hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes flickering upwards in conflict with the way he lowered his head, quickly taking stock of the other's expression. "I'm alright," he offered, stiff.
"Sorry," Jongdae's mumbling, lips barely moving though his grin doesn't falter. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"No, it's -- you didn't scare me. I'm just --" Except then he was studying Jongdae's face, the red splotches rising up in his cheeks, his ears, the sides of his long neck. "Are you sure you're okay...? Have you been drinking water? Is it too hot for you--?"
He knew right then and there that this day would be trouble. Jongdae outright lied, the bridge of his nose wrinkling as he cupped his hand over his eyes, trying to block out the sunshine so that he could better see Joonmyun's face. "I'll be fine. C'mon, walk with me, we'll find someplace where it's cool inside and spend some time there."
Walking was about the worst idea for Jongdae, Joonmyun understood, sucking in a deep breath and trying to stay calm despite his caretaker's instinct, but he couldn't say anything so instead he followed along, Jongdae chattering at him over his shoulder. They were about ten blocks along
(he's looking worse by the minute, joonmyun thought, physically refusing to sigh, he's looking worse and what can I do that doesn't involve that)
and that's when it happened.
Jongdae tripped, gently turning his ankle the wrong way as he went down, and as he hit his knees the breath pushed straight out of his lungs, his face turning a shade of red that Joonmyun hadn't known was possible. Joonmyun reached out to help him up, Jongdae making the same catty expression but with a great deal of pain pinching his features together. Joonmyun understood what was more than likely going to happen, but rather than draw attention to himself, he put his hands on the other man, one at the back of his neck, the other between his shoulderblades. Condensation flowed from his fingertips, a jet of refreshing summer rain, meant to be calming except for the fact that it came from a person rather than the sky
(he'd forgotten)
and he expected a half-decent reaction, but instead he got nothing but pain, the sort that consumed him, causing him to jerk more than once or twice. He dropped his hands, suddenly unable to conjure the water he'd been using in an attempt to bring Jongdae some sort of comfort, and grimaced, letting the last few tremors shake through him. He went out to help Jongdae stand at the very least, but the younger shook off his touch, jumped up and away from him, hands raised, cupped and palms pushed outwards ready for a fight
(for a long second joonmyun had forgotten that people were afraid of him, hated him, wanted him dead; such was the extent of this man's charming nature, starting and ending with the pleasant upturn of his lips, he had actually fucking forgotten)
static crackling loudly between them. Without the slightest ounce of hesitation, Joonmyun dropped his hands, his heart stopping for a long moment.
"Don't come any closer," the stranger said, smile never once faltering, a defensive edge to his voice. "I'll... I'll mess up your hair or something."
Joonmyun stood back in silence, watching and wary. Then he realised that this guy was absolutely serious, and for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, he burst into laughter.
"That was the worst threat I have ever heard," he pointed out as well as he could between gasping breaths, clutching at his belly, and the stranger, while crestfallen by Joonmyun's refusal to take him seriously, was soon laughing right along with him, until the both of them had tears in their eyes.
"I'm sorry," Jongdae offered when the both of them had caught their breath, and Joonmyun nodded. "I probably wasn't going to hurt you," he added, pushing out his hand to be shaken.
Afraid to touch him, Joonmyun bowed a full ninety, respectful as he'd ever been. For a long minute, he was sure he was happy, but then the feelings crept back into him, slipping down the nape of his neck as sweat did on a hot day. "You're not afraid of me?"
Jongdae barked out a quick laugh, shaking his head. "How could I be scared of you, Aquaman?" he asked softly, reaching out and clapping Joonmyun on the shoulder. "If it came down to just the two of us, I'd completely destroy you."
"What's that supposed to mean?" And suddenly, the source of Joonmyun's shame became a point of pride for him. He certainly didn't like being the way that he was, an alien, a stranger on this wicked Planet Earth, controlling the elements as no man was meant to despite the fact that he wore a man's skin and spoke a man's words, but... he didn't want to be taken as weak, not by any means.
"You don't mean you didn't see." Jongdae's voice was completely deadpan, though he had a little spark of mischief behind his stare. He held up a hand, palm out, flat and raised to the sky with his elbow bent ninety degrees. For a moment he looked a bit like a teapot, and Joonmyun was so ready to say so, lighten the mood a bit, go back to laughing with this handsome man he'd just met, but...
A bolt of electricity struck down, and Joonmyun found himself expecting to watch Jongdae's hand split open, the cracks in his skin seep bright red. Much to his morbid dismay, nothing of the sort happened. They both remained in silence, Jongdae waiting for appraisal, Joonmyun stunned to learn that he was actually not alone on this continent, for a very long moment.
Then Joonmyun piped up, eyebrows raised. "Can I take you for coffee, say, right now? I have so much I need to talk to you about." They made their way to the closest shop they could, just a couple blocks down the way, lights enticing them even from that distance. They walked close enough as to encourage physical contact
(jongdae's skin rustled with the sounds of static every time the backs of their hands accidentally brushed together, causing him to blush at the very tips of his ears, something joonmyun took note of before shoving into the back of his mind even though each jolt sent him shuddering for what felt like eternity)
but far enough to discourage staring, which was probably for the best. Neither of them were particularly fond of the idea of drawing attention, it turned out; Jongdae, for the most part, kept his voice low when he did speak, the occasional 'excuse me' as he bumped into a stranger, zapped them a tiny bit, just enough to make them jump.
It wasnt his usual place -- the lights are low, there's an actual guitarist with a dreamy look and a low, gravelly voice serenading them from the corner, the smells are all wrong -- but Jongdae looks lovely here, not out-of-place in the slightest, and that alone is enough to make Joonmyun feel better about being away from home-away-from-home.
"How long have you known?" Jongdae asked about ten minutes later, sitting across from Joonmyun and sipping casually at a macchiato. He's got this look on his face as he's peering over the edge of his cup at Joonmyun, skeptical but curious. "Did it just happen randomly, waking up one morning and remembering, or did you do something to make it happen? Are they looking for you?"
"You talk a lot," Joonmyun pointed out, amiable as he pleased, reaching out across the table and bopping Jongdae gently on the tip of his long, elfin nose. "I've known since I was pretty young, maybe seven or eight. It took me a really long time to get hold of everything I could do, though."
"What all can you do...?" Jongdae interrupted, setting his cup down onto its little plate. "I mean, if you don't mind me asking. If you do I'm really sorry."
"I can show you," Joonmyun affirmed, fighting off a little series of laughs that swelled up in his belly. "But not right now. It's not... this isn't a good place for it. And besides, you have other questions I haven't answered yet."
"Alright, alright, fair enough. Am I talking too much?" Suddenly Jongdae looked self-conscious, leaned back in his chair, fingertips brushing against the sleeve of his cup as he watched Joonmyun with careful eyes.
"You're talking enough to where I don't feel like I'm rambling," Joonmyun mumbled with a grin and a nod. "Anyway, uh... where was I... Oh, right, um. It wasn't exactly random, but it wasn't exactly a planned thing, either. This kid I was friends with, he was always so much bigger than me -- not like that's hard," and he broke into a sardonic laugh without even meaning to, "he kind of had a bullying mentality, calling me names and shoving me and making me share things that were meant just for me, food and the like. One day he made me so angry that I just kind of..." The words threatened to choke Joonmyun, so he lowered his eyes and let Jongdae finish the idea on his own.
Without warning, Jongdae reached out, pressed the tips of his fingers to the back of Joonmyun's wrist, stroked over the skin there carefully, and his hand was warm, his touch stung with static. His face hinted at discomfort, but damn if he wasn't trying, and Joonmyun, a social outcast himself, could appreciate that, though it didn't stop Joonmyun from flinching away.
"I don't really... know how to answer the rest," Joonmyun confessed, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. "Without, uh, chasing you away."
"They have wanted posters of me, too," and Jongdae had taken his hand back, thank god, was back to fiddling with his cup of coffee, "just not here. They're, um. In China. I was there on vacation, and I... I accidentally electrocuted a couple I was traveling with." Joonmyun had been leaning in to listen; at Jongdae's admission he let himself slump down, elbows resting on the table between them with a distinct lack of manners, not that he meant to be that uncultured. "I mean, they're... they're okay, mostly, that's what all the articles said, anyhow. I just don't think it'd be a very good idea for them to see me again, even if I do want to visit them sometimes and make sure they're not... as bad as they were if I left them. What if they wanted me dead or experimented on or--"
And Joonmyun sat forward again, knowing that pain so well that he wished he could take it from Jongdae, absorb it, and send it away like he did the tides earlier today.
"I just, I don't know, I came to America to be safe," Jongdae finished, huffing quietly, and Joonmyun reached out to touch him, palm curving gently around the point of the other man's elbow.
"This isn't the place," he said softly, ignoring the fact that his eyes were beginning to brim with tears. "This has never been the place. This world is not the place." He would not cry, not here, not in front of this person.
"What do you mean?"
"That... they want the same from me." Joonmyun placed his arms, criss-crossed over one another, on the table, between himself and his cup of spiced apple cider, then rested his chin in the crack between. "The kids I used to be friends with, I drowned a lot of them, filled them with water and watched them choke to death."
Jongdae seemed to regard him with a strange combination of fright and awe. "I didn't mean to do it," he whispered, all shocked and shrinking back into himself, arms coming round his stomach and clutching at what little there was there.
Joonmyun raised his eyes but not his head, spoke into his own skin despite his instinct to crawl right on out of it. "Neither did I," he stated solemnly, tapping his left index finger on the back of his opposite arm.
They were mostly quiet for the rest of their time together, Jongdae occasionally popping up with a random question ("Does your family know?" "Do you know anything about how we got here?") and Joonmyun regarding each and every one with a moment's suspicion before answering to the best of his ability ("They know, and they threw me out as soon as they were sure they couldn't get in trouble for it. Not that I blame them, I don't know that I wouldn't throw someone out if I knew they were from another species." "I don't know that much more than anyone else I've met back home who's like this; we just woke up and remembered the other world and could do this all of a sudden. We don't know how to get back. We don't know if we'll go back. We don't even know how we got here.").
It was... a truce, Joonmyun supposed, even as Jongdae was writing a phone number into the lines of Joonmyun's palm at the end of their afternoon together, even as he watched Jongdae's retreating form when they at last parted ways. A truce, an agreement of equals not to do what it was that they were known to do in such uncomfortably uncertain situations.
Maybe it would be a friendship, but... after telling those sorts of stories, Joonmyun dared not get his hopes up.
When he got home that night, he still wanted to die, felt it with every single drop of his being. He supposed it would take more than just a random encounter with an almost stranger to get rid of that. But at least his feelings of isolation from every other being on the planet had dissipated for the time being.
one | two
From: ANONYMOUS until May 22, 2014
Title: Electrolytic
Rating: R
Pairing(s)/Focus: Suho/Chen
Length: 11300 words
Summary: Water conducts electricity, simple as that. That's the only halfway decent explanation as to why Joonmyun can feel Jongdae running through him, even when he's wishing the earth would up and swallow him whole.
Warning/s: Suicidal idealisations, mentions of murder, albeit accidental.
Notes: Thanks to H for betaing and not letting my whining get in the way of decent critique. Thanks to MW for being my consultant even though she had even less an idea of what I was doing than I did. A very special thank-you to B, who told me to keep going, and was never more harsh than need be.
The rain pattered against the sheet of flimsy tin over his head, and Joonmyun sighed, listening to the calming, repetitive chaos that was the weather for him today. He hadn't meant for it to happen; the depression just kind of got to him from time to time. He prayed that no one would be able to see onto his rooftop from their apartment window; they'd be completely confused by what it was they viewed, maybe even leave their houses with umbrellas or raincoats only to find that everywhere else it was dry as a bone.
He felt about this part the way he did about home: longing and misery with a hint of warm anger that snaked up his chest just enough for him to have to fruitlessly swallow it down. His comfort would be that he would go to the sea, take his raindrops with him, and hope that he didn't run into anyone on the way there.
(For a half-second he thought that the easiest way there would be over the side of his building, but... no, that wasn't appropriate. He was better than that. Mostly, anyhow.)
When he made it oceanside, he parked his bike, locked it up carefully, not wanting to end up stranded as he had a few times before. Then he knelt, rolled up his pants, cuffing them with meticulous attention, and kicked off his shoes, ignoring the discomfort of the aging pavement for the moment. As he walked to the line where water met earth, where his existence met this planet, he kicked up sand behind him, enjoying, at least, the way the grains crunched beneath his feet.
Staring out at the hazy, grey horizon, Joonmyun sunk down into the sand, his knees to his chin, his shoes beside him, his arms wrapped around his calves.
(perhaps if he were smaller he'd just disappear, erode away as the water slapped against him, become one with the sand and float away with the sea)
The Atlantic rose up to meet him, a crash of wave on wave on wave on shoreline, uncontrolled, undisturbed; he blinked back the tears as he attempted to make it stop, willing it to where it had been. He could damn near hear the mob gathering behind him, words as weapons, fists as pitchforks and torches. He'd thought that, since he was clearly not the only one of his kind, the minds of the majority would be at ease, at least a tiny bit, but he'd been wrong.
The Atlantic rose up to meet him, an enormous rise of water above the line of the ocean's steady pulse, lapping carefully at the sand; he held up his hands, shoved it away as quickly as he'd created it, and it cascaded backwards, giving in to his demands as easily as he felt he'd soon give in to the pressure not to exist. For a very long moment he considered throwing himself into the depths, feeling the water crash around his ears until they filled up his brain, washed away the thoughts that had plagued him for as long as he could remember.
The Atlantic rose up to meet him once more, unperturbed by his interference, his fear, his anger, his infinite sadness that sank as deep as its floor; he turned his back on it, crossed the shoreline back to the dirt road on which he'd walked to get here.
It would all be over soon, he thought darkly, narrowing his eyes at his own thoughts, and spent a great deal of time trying to relive the life from before, replaying every moment he could grasp hold of, calculating and recalculating where he'd gone wrong. Perhaps God, if He existed, was merely looking out for him. Worse yet, perhaps God had decided that he required spite and malice and deep-seeded rage in order to make it through one more time.
In any case, he prayed that he might feel something positive, just a quick something, before he entirely gave up.
He felt the Atlantic rise up to meet him just as the bile rose in his throat, and he choked on the curses, screams meant for no one and everyone, that he swallowed down to challenge it.
---
Kim Joonmyun had been in the United States for approximately seven months, hopping between one place and another. At present he was situated in New York, where there were just enough people that he wouldn't stand out no matter what he did -- there were always tragedies happening around, and he could just as easily blend in as the next superpowered alien dressed in human skin.
When he was not busy running, skirting corners and outsmarting the people who sought only to corner, terrify and probably kill him, Joonmyun was hidden in alcove atop a skyscraper, filled with his most precious things, including photographs of the friends he'd had once upon a time, the family that had loved him but thrown him out as soon as he'd known what he was, the siblings that had cheered him on at graduations and birthdays but would not acknowledge him if they saw him on the street. A blanket when the weather was chilly, two when it was downright cold, the two changes of clothes he used when he had to walk down to the laundromat for the third time in a week, a jacket and a pair of sweats bundled together for a pillow.
No one used his name anymore. It was getting to the point where he spent nights lying awake convinced that his previous life had been a lie, that he had never been the person as whom he'd been born into this world. It was a pleasant notion, one that brought a bright smile to his face and caused a calm mist that surrounded him in a cloud, lulling him to sleep. At least then, he'd murmur to himself as consciousness left him, he wouldn't have done what he'd done to get himself put on the map.
The nightmares were the worst part, he found as he woke up every morning, a scream pushing at the seam of his tight-pressed mouth, trying to wriggle out from between ground teeth. The looks on his friends' faces as they slowly filled up, the fear in their eyes, the gurgling that rose from their chests
---
He treated himself every once in a while, used the stolen money he coveted in order to get a coffee and a moment of peace around people. Sociability was not a strong suit of his by any means -- he'd spent far too much time running to be good at it anymore, choked when anyone so much as looked at him for a second too long -- but that didn't mean he misliked the warmth of an atmosphere full of people, the sounds of quiet chatter echoing from even the furthest corners. He especially enjoyed the soft, sparkling aura of coffee shops, the gentle guitar streaming in through speakers, the smells that wafted through the air.
It didn't help his loneliness at all when he people-watched, though: children that sprinted in circles, snatched up by adoring but inattentive mothers that sipped at their drinks and stared endlessly at their cell phones; self-important young yuppies with dreams that shone bright in their eyes; students with exhaustion written all over their faces, sadness in the set of their dragging limbs.
He traced the rim of his cup with a fingertip, pausing every time he felt the heat pouring out through the spout, and watched them all, wondering what it would be like to be close with any of them, to just go up and introduce himself--
Then the fantasy got away, nearly turned into a waking nightmare, because invariably he would end up hurting them the way he did everyone else.
Instead of dwelling on the fact that he was, in fact, alone in this country, on this continent, upon this planet, Joonmyun watched a particularly handsome couple. An older woman with a young professional, both in sharp business suits, reached across the table with one hand and brushed fingers against the back of each other's arms, their other hands wrapped tight around warm coffee cups. He felt a tingle of jealousy tickling his tonsils, swallowed it down hard, forcing himself to listen to the voices coming from behind the counter and not the way his heart whispered that he would probably be alone forever.
The barista called out his name, his order, and he forced a smile, knowing that these people became suspicious of you if you didn't have it in you to at least pretend to be polite. No one had the right to know that whether or not he was a walking man, he was dead on the inside.
---
He had been making his way back to his rooftop, prepared for another solitary evening that ended in anxiety and white knuckles wrapped around the hem of a jacket, when he noticed the stranger watching him from the street corner where his building sat. Joonmyun took a moment to study the other man's slight, almost skinny frame, his face and the prominent arches of his cheekbones, the way he held himself. Longish hair pushed back, well-curved shoulders that led to better-defined but thin arms, a slim body with a tiny waist, but most of all that mouth. It curled with excitement, with secrets, with things that Joonmyun had never in a million years thought to learn.
(and yet)
"Can I help you?" Joonmyun offered, friendly as he could be considering that he'd spent another day at the sea, using his excess energy to play with the immediate tides.
The stranger nodded, apparently fooled by Joonmyun's attempts at being kindly. "I'm going to do something stupid very soon," he said softly, the curl in his mouth growing exponentially despite the tone of his voice, lonely and a little depressed, disturbingly familiar to Joonmyun. His heart thudded at the prospect. "And I'd like to know if there's any reason that I shouldn't."
(and yet joonmyun found himself wanting to taste each and every word that mouth had ever spoken)
Joonmyun had every goddamn reason to trash this world, its people, its places, its things, its situations. But for once, he could say nothing awful to that effect, despite the fact that he really and truly wanted to; he was too caught up in the way this intruder grinned. "There are plenty of reasons, for me," he lied, crossing the distance between them, reaching out a hand and patting the stranger on the shoulder only to be met with a bright spark of static that caused him to shiver from his crown to his toes.
"Yeah?" he asked, eyebrows bunched together, stepping away from the touch. "I mean... I don't know. I've got it kind of weird." His mouth pinched together
(not unpleasantly, joonmyun noted, pursing his lips seriously; he doubted for a long moment that anything that mouth could do would ever be awful and god no he wasn't having those thoughts right now, no, never)
and he almost looked as if he wanted to say more, but didn't, instead biting down in his lower lip.
"Just remember," and Joonmyun smiled despite the fact that it exhausted him, "there's always tomorrow. The sunshine might be burning brighter when you wake up in the morning."
The man just nodded, his childish facade fading quickly into what appeared to be fatigue, and waved, fingers waggling a bit. "Thank you," he exhaled, turning and walking away. Joonmyun watched him go, tucking his hands into his pockets.
(he was so beautiful and joonmyun would never see him again just go say hello introduce yourself he probably has no idea who you are you paranoid f--)
"I'm Jongdae, by the way," the man offered casually over his shoulder, looking back, giving Joonmyun the chance to look at those cheekbones and that nose and those pouty lips in profile.
"I'm..." Except Joonmyun saw in his future the hatred and fear and inevitable awful end in being that intimate with someone, ignored the chill that skimmed the back of his neck as he shoved down the urge. "See you around," he called out, lips barely moving, and the guy turned back to give him the cheesiest wink Joonmyun had ever seen in his life. He hadn't meant it, the words were just something people said when they worried about others, but his pulse thrummed in his ears and for the first time in a long time he had hope that he would see another human being.
---
He spent a lot of time at the ocean. It was a habit of his; he tried to do it as much as possible, prove to himself that he had the same control here that he did at home. When he felt the tides rising with the moon's movement he took himself to the beach, watched the waves lap at the shore continuously, felt the cool water lap at his toes, inviting him in.
Occasionally, if the day was bad enough, he'd roll up his pant legs a little further, wade in, anticipate standing there until his legs gave out, wait for the water to take him.
Today, however, was not that day. When the sun started to hang low in the sky and he couldn't feel most of his lower body for having sat down so long, he flopped around, rolling onto his stomach, kicked the life back into his legs so that he could leave.
Something made him decide that it wasn't time. Perhaps one day he would be grateful to that something, but today was not that day, either.
---
Summer was storming its way into the city; it settled into his bones and his muscles despite the grey of the sky, tinging the mood of his days more often than not. He didn't overheat all that often, had the ability to suck in moisture from the air and cool himself down in case of emergency, which was entirely possible, he noted as he watched the waves of heat pouring up from between the cracks in the pavement.
There were so many people crowding the sidewalk that he almost felt that he couldn't move, was caught in a river without any flow, gridlocked with a thousand other salmon and drowning in their body heat. It wouldn't have bothered him, he would have been fine, except for the fact that he so happened to run into the interloper -- Jongdae, he reminded himself from the back of his mind -- and the guy wasn't looking very well at all.
This man was clearly ill judging by the hollows beneath his eyes, Joonmyun thought, reaching up and tapping his index finger against the line of his jaw. Melting from the inside out. He hadn't been in New York long enough for a full summer, but he knew from reading the paper this morning that there have been people hospitalised for heatstroke that he should probably be concerned. And, honestly, he'd feel this way about anyone, not just an apparent suicide survivor who he knew by name.
Jongdae waved, his hand raised over his head despite the obvious effort it took, and fought his way through the crowd to meet Joonmyun. The fever radiated from his sun-bronzed skin, and Joonmyun could swear he felt it crackle off him, the sweat disappearing into steam almost immediately.
"Hey there," Jongdae greeted, clapping his sticky palm to the bare curve of Joonmyun's shoulder -- too hot for real clothes, sleeves were out weeks ago -- and presenting the other with a grin bright as the sun looming overhead. "It's nice to see you again."
"You too," Joonmyun replied with a tilt of his head, the tip of his tongue poking out from between his teeth as he attempted to keep from spitting out vitriol that would sound suspiciously like 'I didn't expect to see you anywhere but on the news'. "How have you been since the last time?" His question was hesitant; he stared down at a crack in the sidewalk, pressed his palms together and drummed his fingertips on his knuckles.
"I'm alright, besides the whole dying-of-heat thing," Jongdae chirped, all bubbled-up glee despite the obvious effect the heat was having on him splayed all over his face. Joonmyun had to painfully endure the urge to reach out and wipe the droplets of sweat from Jongdae's brow, attempt to make him feel better. "What about you? You seemed... I don't know, off. When we met, I mean. Is everything better?"
Joonmyun was a bit taken aback, honestly; the degree to which he was unaccustomed to strangers asking about his well-being was utterly astronomical. He physically recoiled, hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes flickering upwards in conflict with the way he lowered his head, quickly taking stock of the other's expression. "I'm alright," he offered, stiff.
"Sorry," Jongdae's mumbling, lips barely moving though his grin doesn't falter. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"No, it's -- you didn't scare me. I'm just --" Except then he was studying Jongdae's face, the red splotches rising up in his cheeks, his ears, the sides of his long neck. "Are you sure you're okay...? Have you been drinking water? Is it too hot for you--?"
He knew right then and there that this day would be trouble. Jongdae outright lied, the bridge of his nose wrinkling as he cupped his hand over his eyes, trying to block out the sunshine so that he could better see Joonmyun's face. "I'll be fine. C'mon, walk with me, we'll find someplace where it's cool inside and spend some time there."
Walking was about the worst idea for Jongdae, Joonmyun understood, sucking in a deep breath and trying to stay calm despite his caretaker's instinct, but he couldn't say anything so instead he followed along, Jongdae chattering at him over his shoulder. They were about ten blocks along
(he's looking worse by the minute, joonmyun thought, physically refusing to sigh, he's looking worse and what can I do that doesn't involve that)
and that's when it happened.
Jongdae tripped, gently turning his ankle the wrong way as he went down, and as he hit his knees the breath pushed straight out of his lungs, his face turning a shade of red that Joonmyun hadn't known was possible. Joonmyun reached out to help him up, Jongdae making the same catty expression but with a great deal of pain pinching his features together. Joonmyun understood what was more than likely going to happen, but rather than draw attention to himself, he put his hands on the other man, one at the back of his neck, the other between his shoulderblades. Condensation flowed from his fingertips, a jet of refreshing summer rain, meant to be calming except for the fact that it came from a person rather than the sky
(he'd forgotten)
and he expected a half-decent reaction, but instead he got nothing but pain, the sort that consumed him, causing him to jerk more than once or twice. He dropped his hands, suddenly unable to conjure the water he'd been using in an attempt to bring Jongdae some sort of comfort, and grimaced, letting the last few tremors shake through him. He went out to help Jongdae stand at the very least, but the younger shook off his touch, jumped up and away from him, hands raised, cupped and palms pushed outwards ready for a fight
(for a long second joonmyun had forgotten that people were afraid of him, hated him, wanted him dead; such was the extent of this man's charming nature, starting and ending with the pleasant upturn of his lips, he had actually fucking forgotten)
static crackling loudly between them. Without the slightest ounce of hesitation, Joonmyun dropped his hands, his heart stopping for a long moment.
"Don't come any closer," the stranger said, smile never once faltering, a defensive edge to his voice. "I'll... I'll mess up your hair or something."
Joonmyun stood back in silence, watching and wary. Then he realised that this guy was absolutely serious, and for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, he burst into laughter.
"That was the worst threat I have ever heard," he pointed out as well as he could between gasping breaths, clutching at his belly, and the stranger, while crestfallen by Joonmyun's refusal to take him seriously, was soon laughing right along with him, until the both of them had tears in their eyes.
"I'm sorry," Jongdae offered when the both of them had caught their breath, and Joonmyun nodded. "I probably wasn't going to hurt you," he added, pushing out his hand to be shaken.
Afraid to touch him, Joonmyun bowed a full ninety, respectful as he'd ever been. For a long minute, he was sure he was happy, but then the feelings crept back into him, slipping down the nape of his neck as sweat did on a hot day. "You're not afraid of me?"
Jongdae barked out a quick laugh, shaking his head. "How could I be scared of you, Aquaman?" he asked softly, reaching out and clapping Joonmyun on the shoulder. "If it came down to just the two of us, I'd completely destroy you."
"What's that supposed to mean?" And suddenly, the source of Joonmyun's shame became a point of pride for him. He certainly didn't like being the way that he was, an alien, a stranger on this wicked Planet Earth, controlling the elements as no man was meant to despite the fact that he wore a man's skin and spoke a man's words, but... he didn't want to be taken as weak, not by any means.
"You don't mean you didn't see." Jongdae's voice was completely deadpan, though he had a little spark of mischief behind his stare. He held up a hand, palm out, flat and raised to the sky with his elbow bent ninety degrees. For a moment he looked a bit like a teapot, and Joonmyun was so ready to say so, lighten the mood a bit, go back to laughing with this handsome man he'd just met, but...
A bolt of electricity struck down, and Joonmyun found himself expecting to watch Jongdae's hand split open, the cracks in his skin seep bright red. Much to his morbid dismay, nothing of the sort happened. They both remained in silence, Jongdae waiting for appraisal, Joonmyun stunned to learn that he was actually not alone on this continent, for a very long moment.
Then Joonmyun piped up, eyebrows raised. "Can I take you for coffee, say, right now? I have so much I need to talk to you about." They made their way to the closest shop they could, just a couple blocks down the way, lights enticing them even from that distance. They walked close enough as to encourage physical contact
(jongdae's skin rustled with the sounds of static every time the backs of their hands accidentally brushed together, causing him to blush at the very tips of his ears, something joonmyun took note of before shoving into the back of his mind even though each jolt sent him shuddering for what felt like eternity)
but far enough to discourage staring, which was probably for the best. Neither of them were particularly fond of the idea of drawing attention, it turned out; Jongdae, for the most part, kept his voice low when he did speak, the occasional 'excuse me' as he bumped into a stranger, zapped them a tiny bit, just enough to make them jump.
It wasnt his usual place -- the lights are low, there's an actual guitarist with a dreamy look and a low, gravelly voice serenading them from the corner, the smells are all wrong -- but Jongdae looks lovely here, not out-of-place in the slightest, and that alone is enough to make Joonmyun feel better about being away from home-away-from-home.
"How long have you known?" Jongdae asked about ten minutes later, sitting across from Joonmyun and sipping casually at a macchiato. He's got this look on his face as he's peering over the edge of his cup at Joonmyun, skeptical but curious. "Did it just happen randomly, waking up one morning and remembering, or did you do something to make it happen? Are they looking for you?"
"You talk a lot," Joonmyun pointed out, amiable as he pleased, reaching out across the table and bopping Jongdae gently on the tip of his long, elfin nose. "I've known since I was pretty young, maybe seven or eight. It took me a really long time to get hold of everything I could do, though."
"What all can you do...?" Jongdae interrupted, setting his cup down onto its little plate. "I mean, if you don't mind me asking. If you do I'm really sorry."
"I can show you," Joonmyun affirmed, fighting off a little series of laughs that swelled up in his belly. "But not right now. It's not... this isn't a good place for it. And besides, you have other questions I haven't answered yet."
"Alright, alright, fair enough. Am I talking too much?" Suddenly Jongdae looked self-conscious, leaned back in his chair, fingertips brushing against the sleeve of his cup as he watched Joonmyun with careful eyes.
"You're talking enough to where I don't feel like I'm rambling," Joonmyun mumbled with a grin and a nod. "Anyway, uh... where was I... Oh, right, um. It wasn't exactly random, but it wasn't exactly a planned thing, either. This kid I was friends with, he was always so much bigger than me -- not like that's hard," and he broke into a sardonic laugh without even meaning to, "he kind of had a bullying mentality, calling me names and shoving me and making me share things that were meant just for me, food and the like. One day he made me so angry that I just kind of..." The words threatened to choke Joonmyun, so he lowered his eyes and let Jongdae finish the idea on his own.
Without warning, Jongdae reached out, pressed the tips of his fingers to the back of Joonmyun's wrist, stroked over the skin there carefully, and his hand was warm, his touch stung with static. His face hinted at discomfort, but damn if he wasn't trying, and Joonmyun, a social outcast himself, could appreciate that, though it didn't stop Joonmyun from flinching away.
"I don't really... know how to answer the rest," Joonmyun confessed, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. "Without, uh, chasing you away."
"They have wanted posters of me, too," and Jongdae had taken his hand back, thank god, was back to fiddling with his cup of coffee, "just not here. They're, um. In China. I was there on vacation, and I... I accidentally electrocuted a couple I was traveling with." Joonmyun had been leaning in to listen; at Jongdae's admission he let himself slump down, elbows resting on the table between them with a distinct lack of manners, not that he meant to be that uncultured. "I mean, they're... they're okay, mostly, that's what all the articles said, anyhow. I just don't think it'd be a very good idea for them to see me again, even if I do want to visit them sometimes and make sure they're not... as bad as they were if I left them. What if they wanted me dead or experimented on or--"
And Joonmyun sat forward again, knowing that pain so well that he wished he could take it from Jongdae, absorb it, and send it away like he did the tides earlier today.
"I just, I don't know, I came to America to be safe," Jongdae finished, huffing quietly, and Joonmyun reached out to touch him, palm curving gently around the point of the other man's elbow.
"This isn't the place," he said softly, ignoring the fact that his eyes were beginning to brim with tears. "This has never been the place. This world is not the place." He would not cry, not here, not in front of this person.
"What do you mean?"
"That... they want the same from me." Joonmyun placed his arms, criss-crossed over one another, on the table, between himself and his cup of spiced apple cider, then rested his chin in the crack between. "The kids I used to be friends with, I drowned a lot of them, filled them with water and watched them choke to death."
Jongdae seemed to regard him with a strange combination of fright and awe. "I didn't mean to do it," he whispered, all shocked and shrinking back into himself, arms coming round his stomach and clutching at what little there was there.
Joonmyun raised his eyes but not his head, spoke into his own skin despite his instinct to crawl right on out of it. "Neither did I," he stated solemnly, tapping his left index finger on the back of his opposite arm.
They were mostly quiet for the rest of their time together, Jongdae occasionally popping up with a random question ("Does your family know?" "Do you know anything about how we got here?") and Joonmyun regarding each and every one with a moment's suspicion before answering to the best of his ability ("They know, and they threw me out as soon as they were sure they couldn't get in trouble for it. Not that I blame them, I don't know that I wouldn't throw someone out if I knew they were from another species." "I don't know that much more than anyone else I've met back home who's like this; we just woke up and remembered the other world and could do this all of a sudden. We don't know how to get back. We don't know if we'll go back. We don't even know how we got here.").
It was... a truce, Joonmyun supposed, even as Jongdae was writing a phone number into the lines of Joonmyun's palm at the end of their afternoon together, even as he watched Jongdae's retreating form when they at last parted ways. A truce, an agreement of equals not to do what it was that they were known to do in such uncomfortably uncertain situations.
Maybe it would be a friendship, but... after telling those sorts of stories, Joonmyun dared not get his hopes up.
When he got home that night, he still wanted to die, felt it with every single drop of his being. He supposed it would take more than just a random encounter with an almost stranger to get rid of that. But at least his feelings of isolation from every other being on the planet had dissipated for the time being.
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