Yixing was used to strange things happening in his daily life. He realized at a fairly young age that he never got sick like his classmates, and if he fell and hurt himself the wound healed within seconds. He was quiet growing up, so it was easy to keep his abilities to himself. Even when he realized that by touching others who were wounded he could take their wounds upon himself and heal them, the wounds he had taken from them disappearing from his body as well. He helped when he could, healing bruises and cuts from his friends when he was sure they wouldn’t notice.
He wasn’t afraid to heal others or of the pain that came with it. No, he was afraid of being found out, of being taken by the Chinese government and experimented on until they knew why he could do what he did. So, he never told anyone, never let on how gifted he was, not even to his parents.
Until the day Yifan fell out of the sky.
Yixing was a senior in high school when it happened. He was running laps after school to condition for football, more focused on doing footwork drills to improve his dribbling than he was on his surroundings as he did lap after lap. It was long after everyone else had gone home for the day, which in retrospect was a blessing because he was the only one to see Yifan fall right out of the sky and land on the grass in the middle of the football field with a sickening thud.
Yixing rushed over to him and put his hands on the man’s barely moving chest. He had never met Yifan before, he hadn’t known his name when he fell from the sky. All he knew was that within seconds of placing his hands on his chest, he knew Yifan had five broken ribs, a broken arm, internal bleeding all over the place, a punctured lung, a dislocated shoulder, and fractures in both his hips.
Yixing looked around to make sure there wasn’t anyone around to witness what he was about to do. With the coast clear, he took a deep, bracing breath and slowly began to take the man’s injuries on as his own. He started with the lung and internal bleeding, relief coursing through him when the man began to breathe a bit easier. The broken ribs were next, and every breath he took for the ten long seconds it took his body to heal them sent stabbing aches through his chest.
By the time he got to the broken arm and the fractures in his hips, Yixing was short of breath and sweating, shaky from the intensity of the pain. He had never healed someone so extensively and it was more exhausting than he thought it would be. His one consolation was that with each injury he healed, the man under his hands grew more and more comfortable, relaxing and slowly becoming more conscious.
Yixing placed a shaking hand on the dislocated shoulder, and the moment it slotted back into place the man’s eyes fluttered open, looking right at Yixing.
“Hello,” he breathed, staring at Yixing curiously. “I’m Yifan.”
Zitao was lost.
He knew that he was eighteen right now, but that didn’t mean he was eighteen a few seconds ago. He knew he was in the same room he could remember being in the last time he was lucid, but he didn’t know how long he had been there. He knew that the face he kept seeing was someone in his future but he didn’t know when or how he’d meet him.
Zitao was lost in time and he didn’t know how to be found.
He had always been able to slip in and out of time. He first realized he was doing it when he was seven and he woke up two days in the future, only to blink and in the next second he was back to the present in his bed. When he had told his mom, she said it had probably been a dream.
But it kept happening.
Zitao started slipping in and out of the present with increasing regularity until by the time he was sixteen he wasn’t ever sure when he was. His parents insisted he was lucid dreaming, that he had an overactive imagination and that he couldn’t possibly be losing time like he thought.
And for a while he thought they were right.
Until he froze time for two minutes during an argument with his parents. Everything stopped: the clock on the mantle frozen at half six and forty seconds, his father halted mid-sentence, his mother’s small frown fixed on her face. In his panic, time resumed and the scene continued like it hadn’t been stopped for two minutes. His parents didn’t seem to know how to take their son suddenly collapsing on the floor and babbling about how time had stopped and they’d been frozen and they wouldn’t move or answer and he didn’t understand what was happening to him.
After that they believed he was crazy, but they didn’t believe him when he said they had also been frozen. He didn’t have enough control to keep time suspended while keeping them in the present.
A month later he was admitted to a long-term care facility for the mentally unstable in Shanghai—far enough away for his parents to forget they’d ever had a son.
He’d since gained a semblance of control over his power, but that was something that came much too late and in the silence of a cell that was his home now. But even with that fragile amount of control, he could never trust his own sense of time and he never knew when he was.
The solitude didn’t help, either.
When Zitao woke he wasn’t alone.
“Who are you,” he blurted out, startling the boy on the bed across from his. Since when have I had another bed in my room?
The boy looked back at him warily. He was pretty in a way that looked dangerous, his delicate features at odds with the hardness behind his eyes “I’m Luhan, your roommate.”
Okay, that was definitely new. “What day is it? What year?”
Luhan gave him a bewildered look. “It’s April eighteenth, two-thousand eighteen. Are you okay Tao?”
No, he wasn’t okay. The last time he could recall remembering what day it was had been in March. He’d missed almost a month of time. “How do you know my name?”
Luhan looked, if possible, more alarmed that he already was, his eyes wide as he backed slowly away until he was pressed up against the wall behind his bed.. “You told it to me? When they placed me as your roommate?”
Damn, so he had been lucid enough to carry on simple conversations. Those were the worst slips because he never knew what he’d said. “How long have we been roommates?”
“For like, two weeks now. Tao are you sure you’re okay?”
“I lost a month…” he trailed off. How much had he told to Luhan in his semi-lucid state? How crazy had he sounded? He looked up at Luhan nervously to find him studying him with a concerned expression.
“Tao, do you remember anything since I’ve moved in?”
Zitao thought quickly. He could fake it like he did every time he had a session with the in-house psychologist. Or, he could take a chance and tell Luhan the truth. And what the hell, if Luhan was in here, he was probably as crazy as everyone thought Zitao was, so what did he have to lose? Neither of them was going anywhere soon. “I don’t. I lose time a lot.” It wasn’t even a lie. He did lose time, or his hold on it.
Luhan shrugged. “Okay, and?”
Zitao blinked. “And I get lost in time?” What the hell, he thought, deciding to go all in. “I have control over time,” he explained hesitantly, glancing at the door to make sure it was completely closed. “I can theoretically stop, fast-forward, or rewind time, but I don’t have enough control over it so I usually end up spending days or weeks trapped in the past or future.”
Luhan looked at him blankly. “Oh, is that all?” He slumped back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. “I can move things with my mind.”
“Is that all? I tried to tell my parents and they—wait…what did you say?” he asked, finally registering the second part of Luhan’s response.
Instead of replying, Luhan stared intently at Zitao’s pillow and Zitao watched in shock as it lifted from the bed to hover in front of his face before thumping him gently over the head.
It took him a few moments of gaping stupidly at Luhan, who was starting to look apprehensive for the first time since this bizarre conversation started, before he could respond. When he finally found the words he said, “I’m not alone.”
Luhan huffed in relief. “I suppose not.”
Zitao’s only response to that was to lunge across the room and gather a very surprised Luhan up in his arms. “Thank you, for proving I wasn’t crazy.”
Luhan hesitantly hugged him back from where he was crushed underneath Zitao’s body on his bed. “You’re welcome.”
There was silence as a moment that felt like several seconds stretched into minutes before either of them spoke again. Zitao was far too content to bury his face in Luhan’s neck and relish the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one who was different. Luhan took a breath to speak, and his words had Zitao stiffening in surprise.
“So, how are we going to get the fuck outta here?”
Yixing slicked his hair away from his face and stood under the stream of hot water, letting it wash away the dirt and grime that had accumulated throughout the day. Work wasn’t awful, but there was something about Shanghai itself that made him feel dirty just by riding the transit into work every day. It was probably the pollution.
Meeting Yifan had changed everything for Yixing. The knowledge that he wasn’t the only unusual one, wasn’t the only person with talents shifted his entire world view. He had stuck to Yifan like glue ever since, and the moment he had graduated high school he moved to the city with Yifan and rented an apartment together. They’d changed cities every few months while they finished college through online classes, wary of being noticed by organizations that actively hunted people like them.
Now that they were both done with school it was easier to remain hidden under the mask of society, allowing them to work while secretly trying to find other people like them in the vast hoards of people along the Chinese coastline. So far, they hadn’t found anyone else, but they hadn’t stopped looking in the year since they’d been in Shanghai. Unfortunately Yixing couldn’t do much more than peruse the internet for news and keep a shrewd eye out, looking for odd news stories, videos, blogs, or anything else that could hint at hidden powers. He didn’t even have much use for his powers, besides occasionally healing Yifan when he got hurt trying to land on their tiny balcony, or after the one time he flew through an angry flock of birds.
Yifan was much better at flying now than when they had first met, at least.
Yixing scrubbed his body down with soap, washing his hair quickly before turning off the water. Yifan was cooking dinner and Yixing was starving after a ten-hour shift at the hospital.
He sluiced the water from his arms and legs before stepping out and grabbing a towel to tie around his waist. He walked over to the fogged-up mirror above the sink and wiped away the condensation, only to freeze when he saw his reflection. Or rather, the face in the mirror that should have been his, but wasn’t.
He yelled in shock.
Yifan came bursting into the bathroom, looking ready for a fight with flames flickering at his fingertips. Ever since a close call with a couple of scary men who had noticed they were different a few months ago, Yifan and Yixing had been on edge, ready to run in case they were in danger. When he saw that Yixing was staring at the mirror in shock, Yifan relaxed, chuckling.
“You see your own face all the time, is it just now hitting you how ugly you are?” The flames dancing along his knuckles disappeared with a small curl of smoke.
Yixing motioned for him to be quiet. “Come look in this mirror and tell me I haven’t gone crazy, please,” he said as calmly as he could manage.
Yifan sighed but stepped up next to him and looked in the mirror. “Holy shit.”
“Okay, so you see him too? I’m not crazy?”
“Either we’re having a shared delusion, or there’s a boy waving at you in the mirror.”
Said boy began to babble rapidly at Yixing. “Do you know what he’s saying?” Yixing asked Yifan. He was certain the language he was hearing wasn’t Chinese, but Yifan was better at languages and he was too tired to pick it apart right then.
“You can hear him?” Yifan looked confused, like maybe Yixing was finally getting him back for the Flour Incident. “I can see his mouth moving but there’s no sound.”
“That’s concerning,” Yixing said, frowning at the boy in his mirror. It was obvious that whoever this boy was, he was like them. Special. But what exactly his power was Yixing couldn’t say. In any case, he could clearly hear whatever it was he was saying while Yifan could not, implying that what was happening was for him specifically.
“What does it sound like?”
Yixing listened for a moment and then repeated the last thing the boy had said to Yifan, hesitating over the unfamiliar way his mouth twisted to shape the sounds. In the mirror, the boy got more animated, gesturing wildly between himself and Yixing and smiling.
“Oh shit,” Yifan muttered, peering more closely at the boy. “He’s speaking Korean.”
Well, that was a problem. “My Korean is…not great.” He moved aside, ignoring the panicked look on the boy’s face, and pulled Yifan in front of the mirror. “Can you figure out what he’s saying?”
In the mirror, the boy had gone still, eyeing Yifan nervously and shooting pleading looks at Yixing, who was still visible in the mirror, but only slightly. “I think he’s here for you, whoever he is,” Yifan concluded. “Try saying something to him in Korean.”
Yixing dug through his exhausted brain, trying to remember the limited words he’d picked up from school and Yifan. “Hello,” he finally said in Korean, softly. “My name is Yixing.” He took a moment to really look at the boy, noting the red streaks in his jet-black hair and the slightly-smudged eyeliner around his eyes.
The boy in the mirror beamed, smiling widely. “I’m Baekhyun,” the boy said slowly, evidently picking up that Yixing was not Korean and speaking slower than he had been initially.
Yixing turned to Yifan. “He says his name is Baekhyun,” he said in Chinese. “How do I ask him how he’s doing this?”
Yifan thought for a moment while Baekhyun waited patiently in the mirror, glancing between Yixing and Yifan curiously. Yifan slowly sounded out the words Yixing needed so that Yixing could repeat them to Baekhyun.
When he finished, Baekhyun hesitated before speaking again, chewing his bottom lip in thought. When he did reply, Yixing only caught a few of the words. “I have...trying to find...people...you have...only way...talk.”
Yixing groaned in frustration, tugging at his wet hair and turning to Yifan with a pleading look. “I don’t know what he’s saying.”
Yifan gave him a flat look in return. “I kept telling you to learn Korean. You should have studied harder.”
“Now is not the time to gloat, Yifan. Help me, gē.”
“I can’t hear him! And there is no way I’m going to be able to read his lips. Try asking him what he can do.” Yifan patiently sounded out the words for Yixing to repeat back to Baekhyun.
Instead of answering in words, Baekhyun began to gesture. First to himself, then to Yixing through the mirror, miming the act of looking at something. “Is he saying that finding people in mirrors is his power?” Yixing asked Yifan, who shrugged in response.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
Baekhyun waved his hand to get their attention again. Once he had it, he began to shine.
Bright, pure light began radiating from him, matching his beaming smile and making Yixing and Yifan squint to keep looking at him.
“Okay, so he glows. Great.”
“I think it’s more than that, gē,” Yixing said, studying a now back to normal Baekhyun. He looked more tired than he did before he began to shine. “He found me in a mirror.”
“Ask him where he is,” Yifan suggested. “Maybe he’s somewhere close.”
“It’s like you don’t realize how big Shanghai is,” he muttered, before digging out the right words in Korean and asking Baekhyun where he was.
“Seoul,” he replied. “Where are you?”
“Shanghai,” Yixing said with a small frown.
Baekhyun looked devastated. “That’s…so far away.” He stared off in the distance for a moment.
Yixing studied him while he thought. He was cute in a sharp way, his eyes shrewd and his lips always tilted in a wry sort of smile. He looked a bit foxlike, and Yixing was helplessly drawn in by him.
“Where in Shanghai are you?” Baekhyun asked suddenly, those sharp eyes boring into Yixing through the mirror.
“What’s he saying?” Yifan whispered.
“He wants to know where in Shanghai we are.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
“Do you think we can trust him? We’re already keeping a low profile—what if he draws more attention to us or sells us out to some lab that will run endless tests and experiments on us?”
In the mirror, Baekhyun waved for their attention, pointing frantically at the back of his wrist when they both looked at him.
“I think he’s running out of time,” Yifan said. “You need to decide now.”
Yixing turned to Baekhyun as his image started to ripple like still water disturbed by a pebble. He rattled off their address before he could second guess his gut feeling, repeating it until Baekhyun disappeared from the mirror.
“Well,” Yifan began, dryly, “let’s hope he doesn’t get us killed.”
Yixing whacked him in the chest and stepped past him out of the bathroom, making for his room. “He won’t. I have a feeling this is supposed to happen.” And he did. He couldn’t explain it, but after the initial scare, meeting Baekhyun had felt…right, and he couldn’t help but trust his instincts. He’d stayed alive this long.
As he got dressed and Yifan went back to the kitchen, Yixing hoped he hadn’t just made a serious mistake.
Silence greeted him, and Minseok frowned. It was unusual not to be greeted as soon as he stepped through the front door. He set his keys in the bowl on the runner table in the entryway, slipping off his shoes and moving further into their house.
He reached the dining room, only to find it empty. The sun room was as well. Maybe Junmyeon was in the west wing? He’d had plans to fix some things in that wing for a while now. He went back to the foyer, just in front of the sweeping staircase that led to the second floor, and was about to look upstairs when arms wrapped around his waist from behind and a head pressed against the back of his neck.
“Welcome home,” Junmyeon said softly, ignoring the way Minseok’s skin went frigid with the surprise.
Minseok spun around to face Junmyeon, who looked sleepy and rumpled. Minseok smiled fondly at the sight. Junmyeon was normally so put together—he never set foot outside unless everything was perfect about his appearance—but at home when it was just the two of him he was more relaxed, and if you were to ask Minseok, this was the version of Junmyeon that he loved most. “Where were you? I was just about to head upstairs to look for you.”
Junmyeon yawned. “I was napping on the window seat in the parlor. The afternoon sun hits it just right.”
Of course, the parlor. Minseok should have checked there first. It was Junmyeon’s favorite room in this giant house they called home. When Junmyeon had inherited the estate from his great aunt he had taken an immediate liking to the parlor, renovating it with plush settees and rugs thick enough that you sunk up to your ankles when you walked on them. He had done everything in varying shades of blue, and Minseok always felt like he was stepping underwater whenever he walked into the room.
“How was your day?” Minseok asked, smoothing down a stray strand of Junmyeon’s deep blue hair.
Junmyeon shrugged. “I did some work to the east wing, cleared out a few more rooms and planned renovations for them. Fixed the loose floorboard that creaks in the west wing. Napped.” He pulled Minseok closer and rested his chin on his shoulder. “Missed you.”
Minseok hummed and returned the embrace, one hand threading through Junmyeon’s hair and the other wrapping around his waist. “Sounds like you were productive.”
“I was. How was work?”
Minseok shrugged. His work varied from day to day as a physician’s assistant, but today had been rather uneventful. “It was fine. None of Dr. Cha’s patients died and I got to assist him during a surgery. It was fine.” He yawned. “Tiring.”
Junmyeon lifted his head and pressed a gentle kiss to Minseok’s forehead. “Let’s make dinner and go to bed early then? Fall asleep to a movie? I’ll cook.”
Minseok kissed him slowly, savoring the warmth and softness of his lips. “Sounds great,” he said when they parted. “I’ll go change and join you in the kitchen.”
Junmyeon hummed in response and headed through the dining room to their right that would lead him to the kitchen in the east side of the house. Minseok watched him go before heading in the opposite direction toward the master suite in the north-west corner of the house.
The great room was just behind the stairs and connected to the ocean room—or the parlor Junmyeon had designed--off to the left. Once he was in the parlor he turned to his left and walked past the door leading to their room, shedding his scrubs as he moved through the attached bathroom and into their large walk-in closet. If Junmyeon hadn’t inherited this house from his super rich great-aunt and the fortune that came with it they wouldn’t have been able to afford something like this on their own, ever.
He grabbed his favorite pair of sweatpants and t-shirt, tutting over the mess Junmyeon had made of their closet sometime in the last ten-hours he’d been on shift, before walking back into the bathroom for a quick shower, desperate to scrub the feel of the hospital and the smell of disinfectant off him.
Technically he didn’t need to work. With the money Junmyeon had inherited, neither of them needed to work another day in their lives and they could live very comfortably. But he liked the distraction that came from being so busy he didn’t have time to think about anything else like the perpetual danger their lives were in. Plus, it kept him from being annoyed at the constant chill that he felt because of the ice in his veins. He was almost always too cold to ever feel truly warm, no matter how many blankets Junmyeon piled on top of him at night.
He turned the water as hot as it would go, it still only feeling lukewarm to him as he washed under the spray. By the time he was finished with his shower and changed into his sweatpants and shirt he was considerably warmer than he’d been all day.
“What’s for dinner?” he asked, once he’d made his way into the kitchen.
Junmyeon straightened from where he was bent over a steaming pot on the stove and flashed him a smile. “Kimchi jjigae. It’s supposed to storm tonight so I thought something warm and spicy would be good.”
Minseok hummed in appreciation, coming up behind Junmyeon to wrap his arms around his waist from behind, hooking his chin over his shoulder and watching as he idly stirred the soup by circling a finger over the pot.
“Want me to dry your hair for you?”
Minseok nodded and stepped away so that Junmyeon could turn around and lift the remaining water away from his hair and send it into the sink with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “Thanks, babe.”
“Anytime.” Junmyeon’s smile was as bright as a spring morning. “Now, let’s eat?”
A booming crash woke Minseok up in the dead of night.
He jolted awake, Junmyeon’s arm slipping away from his waist as he got out of bed to look out their bedroom windows overlooking the back lawn. What he saw in the bright flashes of light had him running back to bed to roughly shake Junmyeon awake. “Myeon, wake up.”
“Mmpf, wha’ is it?” he mumbled, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. “Seok, it’s like three in the morning,” he moaned, looking at the bedside clock.
“You need to see this, get up!”
“Look,” Minseok said, pointing out across the back lawn just as lightning struck with a thunderous crash. In the flash of light, a figure could be seen, conducting the lightning like an orchestra of chaos.
“Holy shit,” Junmyeon breathed, squinting to see through the darkness and the rain.
Minseok yanked him out of their bedroom and into the parlor, where there were doors leading out onto the patio. The second they stepped outside they were pelted with sheets of rain, which didn’t bother either of them necessarily, but was still annoying and hard to see through.
“Babe, what are we doing out here?” Junmyeon yelled over the wind. “This is insane!”
Minseok ignored him and stared fixedly at the figure in the distance. They called the lightning down in bright flashes of light that temporarily blinded him and thunderous booms he could feel in his bones. It was beautiful to watch someone harness so much raw power, to conduct pure energy through themselves and into the earth, and Minseok wanted to get closer but knew that would be a Bad Idea with how conductive he and Junmyeon were with electricity.
He didn’t know how long they stood there getting drenched by the rain, watching this person who was like them, who was special, harness the raging force of this storm in one body, but looking back they probably saved his life when it all went wrong.
It was in the blink of an eye, but Minseok saw the man drop his arms, leaving him unprepared when the biggest bolt of lightning yet slammed into his defenseless body. It happened almost too fast for him to process, but once he replayed what he’d seen in his mind, he began sprinting across the lawn, up the hill, until he reached the man lying prone on the ground.
His hands were shaking as he rolled the man onto his back, gasping as he saw what had happened.
“Is he okay?” Junmyeon gasped, out of breath from their sprint across the lawn. “Oh, shit,” he said looking at the man.
Minseok felt his neck for a pulse. “His heart’s still beating,” he said in surprised relief. “We need to get him out of this storm fast.” Minseok lifted him carefully, trying not to put pressure on the livid red lines lacing across the visible patches of skin. “The last thing we need is to get hit like him.” Minseok looked back at the house. “Junmyeon, go on ahead and get me cold water, clean towels and if you can, whatever ointments or disinfectants you can find.”
“I’ll get them. Meet me in the parlor,” Junmyeon called out as he turned and ran back to the house.
Minseok followed him, albeit slower, and prayed that he wouldn’t get hit by the next bolt of lightning. The man in his arms was about his size, and while he wasn’t heavy, he wasn’t light, which had Minseok breathing heavily by the time he reached the patio and walked back into the house through the parlor doors, which Junmyeon had left open.
Junmyeon was ready for him with one of the couches covered in clean towels, along with buckets from the kitchen, some of which were full of water while others were empty. As soon as Minseok had laid the man on the couch, Junmyeon was pulling the water from his body and into the empty buckets by his side. Minseok moved around Junmyeon and gingerly unbuttoned the simple black shirt the man was wearing, unsurprised at what he saw, though it wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d anticipated.
“What are those?” Junmyeon gasped softly, his eyes wide.
“Lightning scars—or they will be, once they heal up.” Minseok pointed to some faded white lines on his chest. “Look, you can see some old scars. This isn’t the first time this has happened to him.”
The man’s chest was a mess of vivid red lines. There were several deep holes that looked like a hot poker had been shoved into his skin—the points where the lightning had entered his body. A large one on his left shoulder, another on his right collarbone, one on his ribs by his left elbow, another on his left hip. Smaller marks were on the side of his neck and his cheek. They were going to scar, but what really held Minseok’s attention were the intricate lines spreading from each point of impact—a visible map of how the lightning had spread through his body.
“Will he be okay?” Junmyeon asked, lightly tracing the line that arched over the bridge of his nose and curled to an end on his right cheek below his eye.
Minseok cooled his hands until his fingers were chilled at the tips and prepared to place his hands over the points of impact to soothe and cool the burned flesh. “I think so, as long as he doesn’t have any kind of brain damage from the sheer amount of electrical current he was conducting. This looks a lot worse that it is. He’ll be in pain from the burns, but nothing unbearable.” He studied the injuries in front of him with a critical eye. “Normally, with something like this, I’d expect third degree burns, but these look like they barely qualify as second degree.” He had barely touched two fingers to the burned patch of skin on his ribs when the man arched off the couch, his eyes snapping open as he shouted in pain.
“Woah! Easy, we’ve got you,” Junmyeon soothed, easing him back against the couch.
“Who…?” he croaked, looking between Junmyeon and Minseok in confusion before squinting his eyes shut and groaning in pain.
“I’m Junmyeon, and that’s Minseok,” Junmyeon replied, once the man had opened his eyes again. They were glassy with shock and pain. “We saw you in the storm, watched you control it, and saw you get hit.”
A look of panic flashed across his pained features.
“Don’t worry,” Minseok said, giving him a reassuring grin and wiggling the fingers of his other hand as he let them frost over. “We’re like you.”
“What’s your name?” Junmyeon asked while the man looked between the two of them warily.
“Jongdae,” he finally said, wincing as Minseok lifted his cold fingers away from his ribs and placed them to the burned skin of his hip. “I didn’t know anyone lived in this house.”
“Surprise,” Minseok said wryly. “Is there anyone we should call? Family, friends?”
Jongdae shook his head. “No, I’m on my own.”
Minseok nodded. “Okay, that’s fine, we’ve got you. Myeon, will you get him some painkillers? Some of the strong stuff from when I broke my ribs? He’ll need it.”
Junmyeon left the room without another word, while Jongdae groaned in pain. “How bad is it this time?”
Minseok chewed at his bottom lip. “Here, I’ll help you sit up.” He warmed his hands to room temperature and shuffled around Jongdae, placing one hand behind his neck and the other under his mostly uninjured right side to help lift him up and back so that he was leaning against the arm of the couch instead of fully reclined on the cushions.
Jongdae closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them and looking down at his bare torso. “Oh fuck,” he breathed shakily. “Ow.”
Minseok chuckled. “You’re lucky these aren’t worse, honestly.”
“I wasn’t sure which one you wanted,” Junmyeon said, walking back into the sun room, “so I grabbed everything we had.” He dropped a few bottles of pills on the floor by Minseok’s knees. “Feeling better, Jongdae?” he asked, smiling at Jongdae as he knelt by Minseok.
Jongdae grimaced. “My whole body hurts like hell and I feel like my internal organs have been rearranged.”
Minseok frowned, running through his internal catalogue of medical knowledge to figure out what he should check for. “Myeon, will you see if he’s got blood going anywhere it shouldn’t? Moving liquid is more your specialty than mine. You’re looking for excessive blood flow in the brain, heart, lungs or abdomen.”
“Are you a doctor?” Jongdae asked Minseok, as Junmyeon gently laid his hands on Jongdae’s torso, avoiding the burns as best he could, a small furrow appearing between his eyebrows as he concentrated.
“Physician’s assistant,” Minseok replied. “So yes, but also no.”
Junmyeon rolled his eyes. “He’s being modest. He’s smart enough to be a doctor but didn’t want to deal with the extra years of school. He’s as good as one, either way.” He lifted his hands off Jongdae’s body and turned to address Minseok. “He’s not bleeding anywhere he isn’t supposed to be.”
Minseok nodded in satisfaction. Looking at the pills Junmyeon had gathered and finding the bottle he wanted, he dumped out two and handed them to Jongdae. “Take these, they’ll help with your pain.” Junmyeon helpfully pulled some water from one of the buckets and formed it into an orb that hovered in front of Jongdae’s mouth.
“This is so weird,” Jongdae muttered, tossing the pills into his mouth and swallowing before opening his mouth again to let Junmyeon guide the water into his mouth. “Ugh,” he shuddered, “weird.”
“We should probably get you into a bed and let you sleep,” Minseok suggested. “Do you think you can walk or do you want me to carry you?”
“Nah, I’ve got this,” Jongdae said, waving off Minseok’s help. He slowly stood from the couch and took a step, only for his legs to give out from under him.
Minseok got an arm around him before he went down completely, making Jongdae hiss in pain as the arm he slung around Jongdae’s waist agitated his injuries. “Junmyeon, what room should we put him in?” Junmyeon knew which rooms in the house were ready for occupants better than Minseok did, since he was the one renovating everything.
Junmyeon came up to Jongdae’s other side, slipping his arm around Jongdae’s waist and helping Minseok support his weight. “The only rooms that are ready besides ours are on the second floor.”
Minseok huffed in frustration. “I don’t like the idea of him being so far away from us while he sleeps and stairs are going to be difficult for him right now.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “How do you feel about him sleeping in our room tonight?”
Jongdae sighed. “I really don’t want to deal with stairs right now. I guess I’ll take your room, if that’s okay.”
“I’d say we could all share our room, but Junmyeon is a cuddler,” Minseok supplied.
Jongdae made a sort of whimpering sound in the back of his throat. “Yeah...no, thanks. As tempting as that is,” he said sarcastically, “I’ll pass.”
Together they moved into the bedroom—also done in varying shades of blue, although lighter than the parlor—and got Jongdae settled in the bed.
Junmyeon disappeared in the direction of the bathroom.
“The pain meds should be kicking in soon, do you need anything else?” Minseok asked.
“Do you want to change into these?” Junmyeon asked before Jongdae could answer Minseok, sweats and a t-shirt in his hands. “These are Minseok’s so they should fit you; you’re about the same size.”
Jongdae sighed. “Yes, please.”
It only took watching Jongdae struggle to sit up on his own for a second before Minseok and Junmyeon were helping him out of his slightly charred clothes and into the clean ones Junmyeon had brought.
“Better?” Junmyeon asked as Jongdae relaxed back against the pillows with a sigh.
“Much.” He looked at both of them intently. “Thank you for saving me.”
“Of course, we were happy to.” Junmyeon brushed his fingers across Jongdae’s forehead as he spoke, and Minseok watched as Jongdae’s eyes fluttered and he slipped into deep sleep.
“You put him under?”
Junmyeon nodded. “Just helped him sleep faster. He was already well on his way.” He tangled his fingers with Minseok’s, tugging him toward the parlor. “Let’s go back to sleep, yeah?”
Minseok swayed, his exhaustion suddenly hitting him now that the danger was over and Jongdae was sleeping peacefully. He turned off the lights in the bedroom as he followed Junmyeon into the parlor.”Yeah, let’s.” He wouldn’t be surprised if Junmyeon was using the physical contact to coax more melatonin into his system, but he was too weary from his long day and the events of tonight to care.
He allowed Junmyeon to bundle him up into blankets, catching the parlor lights before joining him and curling around him, pulling Minseok flush to him on the settee. “Sleep, love,” he whispered, placing a soft kiss to the skin below Minseok’s ear.
Minseok slipped into sleep, warm and safe.
Minseok woke with electricity zipping under his skin and his hair standing on end. He startled, jolting in Junmyeon’s arms and snapping his eyes open to see Jongdae standing over them, his hand on Minseok’s shoulder.
It explained the electricity, at least.
“Jongdae,” he said, reaching up to pat at the uninjured side of Jongdae’s face. “What do you need?”
Jongdae whined in the back of his throat. “I’m hungry.”
“You’re zapping me.”
As soon as Jongdae registered his words, the current humming under his skin stopped. “Sorry,” Jongdae said sheepishly. “I’m usually alone so I don’t have to worry about things like this.”
“Why are you two talking this early,” Junmyeon groaned into Minseok’s neck, shifting behind him to press closer to his back. “Go back to sleep.”
Minseok could use a few more hours, and he felt his eyes drifting shut again with the warmth of Junmyeon lulling him back to sleep when Jongdae whined softly, “But I’m hungry.”
Junmyeon grumbled something into the skin of Minseok’s neck that sounded a lot like, “munfkn whiny-ass man lemme sleep,” but sat up anyway. He leaned over to place a soft, gentle kiss to Minseok’s lips, lingering far longer than was probably appropriate when there was a near-stranger watching them but Minseok was too pliant to resist the pull of Junmyeon.
“I’m right here,” Jongdae groaned, covering his eyes with his hands.
“You’re making us get up to make you food,” Junmyeon pointed out, “you can deal with me kissing my boyfriend good morning.”
Minseok chuckled dryly, gently pushing Junmyeon off him so he could sit up and stretch his limbs awake. “Come on, I don’t have to be to work until tonight and I don’t want to spend all day sleeping anyway.”
Junmyeon smirked. “Are you sure I can’t persuade you to stay in bed with me?”
“I’m still here, guys,” Jongdae huffed, dropping his hands to glare at them. “Are you two normally this gross, or is this just for my benefit?”
“He’s always like this,” Minseok replied. He leaned over and kissed Junmyeon briefly while he was hovering over him standing up.
“Judas,” Jongdae moaned, while Junmyeon winked at Minseok as he walked toward their room to head for the bathroom.
Once he was done in the bathroom, Minseok walked over to the sink to wash his hands and glanced up at himself in the mirror, except.
He looked back at the mirror and yelled, “Junmyeon?!”
“There’s a boy in the mirror,” Minseok shouted, trying not to panic.
“What?” came two voices shouting in tandem, followed by the sound of footsteps.
Minseok didn’t take his eyes off the boy in the mirror, who was waving at him cheerily. The boy opened his mouth and said, “Hi, I’m Baekhyun!” at the same moment Junmyeon and Jongdae walked into the room.
“Holy shit,” Jongdae said. “How in the hell is there a person in your mirror?”
The boy—Baekhyun—pouted at them. “I can hear what you’re saying. And to answer your question, scarred man, I’m scrying you.” He squinted at Jongdae, his face getting larger as he leaned forward to peer closer. “That looks like it hurt. What’d you do, walk into an electric fence?”
Jongdae made a choked sound.
“I’m sorry, you’re what?” Junmyeon asked, squinting at Baekhyun like he was crazy, and maybe he was.
Baekhyun looked momentarily surprised. “Oh! You can all hear me this time! I must be getting better.” He beamed happily for a moment at their stunned expressions, then said, “I’m Scrying. You know,” he waved his hands around his head, “trying to find people like me.”
“People like you?” Minseok felt like he was two steps behind what was happening. If this kid was looking for people like him, people like Minseok, then maybe he and Junmyeon weren’t as alone as they thought they were.
Baekhyun held up his hands and Minseok flinched back before he realized that Baekhyun was beginning to shine. Pools of light gathered and collected in his palms, pure and bright. “I’ve got powers, and I bet you do too.”
“Where are you,” Junmyeon asked, expression intense. “Are you safe?”
Baekhyun nodded. “I’m safe. I’m in my dorm at Seoul University.”
“You’re scrying in your dorm?” Junmyeon hissed, fisting his hands in his dark blue hair. “What if somebody walked in on you?”
“Relax,” Baekhyun said, waving away Junmyeon’s worries in a way that bespoke the casual carelessness of youth. “I’m perfectly safe.”
Minseok and Junmyeon traded a look. They both knew that Baekhyun wasn’t nearly as safe as he thought he was—but they’d clearly had a different experience than Baekhyun had and a far more dangerous one at that. It took a second, maybe two, for Minseok and Junmyeon to reach a silent agreement. After so many years together it came easily, knowing what the other was thinking.
“You need to come here, as soon as you can,” Junmyeon instructed. “We need to meet you, tell you what we know and what to avoid.”
Baekhyun’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “But…I have classes?”
“Skip them,” Jongdae said, moving closer to Junmyeon and Minseok so that Baekhyun could see him in the mirror. “You should get here as soon as you can.”
“But, I was going to use the upcoming term break to find the guys in China.”
“Baekhyun,” Minseok began softly, “are you saying you’ve contacted others besides us?”
Baekhyun nodded happily. “Yeah! They’re in China and I think they’re alone, so I was going to go and meet them.”
Minseok felt his hair frost over in terror. China was the last place Baekhyun should go, but telling him why might not be in their best interest right now.
“Come here first,” Junmyeon reasoned, “and once we explain things and figure some stuff out we will help you find the guys in China.”
Baekhyun chewed his lip in thought. “Fine, where are you guys?”
Junmyeon gave him their address, making sure he wrote it down before letting Baekhyun go.
“Oh, and Baekhyun,” Minseok called, and Baekhyun’s rippling form solidified once more. “Don’t scry anyone else until we can talk to you, please.”
Baekhyun narrowed his eyes but nodded anyway. He looked a bit drained—probably from the effort of scrying them for so long—and his image rippled until all they saw in the mirror were their own pale faces.
“What the fuck,” Jongdae whispered, looking like he might faint.
Minseok couldn’t help but agree.
“Okay, but what if he does get us killed?”
Yixing sighed and rolled over to find a nervous Yifan standing by his bed. “He’s Korean, who is he going to tell?” He tried to wake up faster. Yifan shaking him awake when he was upset or nervous wasn’t uncommon, but usually it happened at a more reasonable time of the morning. “Yifan it’s like,” he glanced at his phone, “five in the morning. I have to work today, can you let me sleep?”
Yifan grimaced. “My father isn’t even in China right now and yet his men still nearly managed to catch us. I’m too freaked out to sleep.”
Oh, it made sense now. In the few days since Baekhyun had appeared in their bathroom mirror Yifan had been getting progressively more uptight. Yixing hadn’t thought much of it until this moment, but he should have realized sooner.
“He doesn’t know where we are Yifan, we’re still safe.”
“But there was that brush with his men a few months ago. He knows we’re in this city.”
Yixing sighed. “We chose Shanghai for this reason. Even if he knows we’re here, there’s so many people he’ll never be able to narrow it down. Besides,” he said softly, “we should at least wait a month or so and see if Baekhyun finds us. I don’t want him to run into anyone from your dad’s company.”
Yifan blanched. “We shouldn’t have given him our address.” He sat down on the edge of Yixing’s bed. “What if we get him killed. Yixing, he probably has no idea! He’s just a kid.”
“Slow down,” Yixing said, sitting up and running a soothing hand up and down Yifan’s back. “It’s going to be fine. He doesn’t even speak the language, so I doubt he would come here alone.”
“Then we’ll have gotten several people killed.” He was panting now, his breathing coming in short gasps and his hands clenching in the fabric of his favorite sleep shorts as he stared blankly at the floor.
Yixing huffed in frustration and pulled Yifan’s face around to look him in the eye. “Breathe, Yifan, it’s going to be okay. Calm down. We’ll do what we always do.” He waited until Yifan had calmed somewhat before continuing. “We stay vigilant, under the radar as much as possible, and we keep an eye out for a lost-looking Korean kid and hope that he makes it here in one piece.”
“But my father—”
“There’s no point in worrying about that until we know that something is going to happen. Where would we start?” He ran a hand through Yifan’s hair—it was brown this month and getting long; they’ll have to get new haircuts and colors—trying to soothe him. “We have no way of contacting Baekhyun, so we have to wait and watch.”
“I hate this.”
Yixing pulled him closer, wrapping Yifan up in his arms. “I know. We’ll be okay, Yifan.”
Yifan wrapped his arms around Yixing’s waist, burying his face in his shoulder as slow tremors shook his large frame. Yixing wanted to take this pain away from Yifan, remove the heartbreak and betrayal so he could be whole again, but Yixing could only heal physical pain.
“So, how much do the two of you know about people like us?” Jongdae asked over the breakfast Junmyeon had made. He was looking much better this morning. The lines branching over his skin weren’t as red or vivid, the burns slightly less angry looking, and Jongdae hadn’t cried when he saw himself in the mirror earlier, which Minseok considered progress.
They’d been eating in silence so far, each of them too lost in their own thoughts after their conversation with Baekhyun to talk much.
Minseok and Junmyeon traded a glance.
“Quit doing that,” Jongdae groused, “I’m right here, geez.”
“We know that people like us have disappeared in the past without a trace, never to be found again,” Junmyeon said slowly.
“We also know,” Minseok continued, “that in China people like us are actively hunted. They’re in far more danger than we are here.”
“At least in Korea they don’t come for you unless you cause problems or draw attention to yourself,” Jongdae agreed, chewing slowly. “It’s not a coincidence that the two of you live out here, is it?”
“No,” Minseok answered, “it isn’t. Junmyeon inherited this house from his great-aunt, which was a blessing. Out here we don’t have to worry about someone accidently seeing us doing something unexplainable. The nearest town is like, fifteen minutes away by car, so—”
“You’re safe.” Jongdae smiled. “I get it. Oh, and before you ask, I was storm chasing.”
“That’s why you found me in your backyard. I was following storms to help increase my control and was lucky enough to be found by the two of you.”
Minseok chewed a mouthful of food before speaking again. “Where did you come from? We’re really far outside of Seoul.”
Junmyeon looked at Jongdae carefully.
“I’m from around Seongnam but live in Seoul.”
Minseok raised an eyebrow. Their house was in a forested area between Gwangju and Seongnam and not the easiest to find. It would be a miracle if Baekhyun didn’t somehow get lost on his way to them. “You are lucky we found you.”
Jongdae nodded and continued eating. “Hope the kid is safe. He can’t be very old.”
Junmyeon eyed him skeptically. “You don’t look that old yourself.”
Minseok tried not to laugh at Jongdae’s indignant tone. “Like he said, not very old.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t look much older than fifteen, chipmunk.”
Minseok froze Jongdae’s jjigae. “I’m twenty-eight, you punk.”
“And I’m twenty-seven,” Junmyeon supplied. “Be nice to your hyungs.”
Jongdae rolled his eyes before glaring at Minseok until he thawed his jjigae.
“For someone who is imposing on our hospitality, you sure have a lot of sass,” Junmyeon muttered.
“Oh please,” Jongdae griped. “You love having me here.”
Minseok opened his mouth to argue before he realized he couldn’t. There was something about Jongdae that made it seem like they’d been friends for years. Junmyeon’s hand found his knee under the table, squeezing gently to get his attention.
Minseok looked at him, and they came to a silent agreement.
“You’re right,” Junmyeon said.
“Of course I’m—wait, what?”
“We do like having you here. You can stay, in fact you probably should until your injuries heal. Do you have a job?”
“Uh, well, kinda?” Jongdae pushed the remains of his jjigae around his bowl. “I work at a convenience store.”
“Do you need to keep going?” Minseok asked. “You can carpool with me into the city, but you’ll probably have to adjust your schedule to mine, and I tend to work long hours at the hospital.”
“If you don’t want to work,” Junmyeon supplied helpfully, “you can stay home with me and help with renovations when you feel better.”
Jongdae thought about it for a moment. “Nah,” he said finally. “I hated that job anyway. I’ll stay here with you guys. Can you teach me how to control my power?”
“Uh,” Minseok blinked in surprise, “I could try.”
Jongdae nodded happily. “Cool. I’m excited! It’s gonna be just like summer camp!”
Junmyeon and Minseok looked at each other before groaning in unison. “We’re too young to have kids, dear,” Junmyeon said with a straight face.
Minseok fought the way his mouth twitched up in a smile. “Good thing we got a puppy instead.”
They both bolted from the table as Jongdae threatened to ‘zap those smug smiles off your faces’. Minseok couldn’t remember the last time he laughed so carelessly.
The door to their room opening woke Zitao from his light sleep. He was a light sleeper now that he was locked up in this place. He didn’t want to risk someone injecting him with something while he was asleep.
Zitao relaxed back against his pillow. It was just one of the nurses. “Yeah?” he mumbled as Luhan stirred awake. It was early still, and even though Zitao didn’t have a clock, when he was lucid he always knew what time it was.
“Time for your meds,” the nurse said, moving further into their room, the door remaining open enticingly behind him. “Mind if I turn on the lights?” he asked softly, conscious of their still sleepy states.
“S’fine,” Luhan yawned, sitting up with a stretch.
They were both used to this routine—being woken up first thing in the morning by one of the nurses, taking their meds, and then going back to sleep if they wanted—but it didn’t make waking up any easier.
The nurse flicked on the lights, and once Zitao’s vision cleared he saw that this morning it was his favorite nurse, the soft-spoken and gentle one. Of all the people in this place, Zitao liked him best.
“Who are you?” Luhan asked, blinking warily at the nurse.
Zitao quirked his head in curiosity. This nurse has worked here for a year or so—not as long as Zitao had been here but a while—it seemed weird that Luhan didn’t know who he was.
The nurse smiled, noting Zitao’s confusion. “Ah, I’ve been taking the evening shifts for a while and haven’t seen you since you came here, Luhan, we haven’t met yet.” He set their tray of meds down on the small table between their beds.
“My name is Yixing.”
There's a lot of inspiration that I drew from in writing this. One of the big things was some artwork on Tumblr that I found from this artist. That link will take you to her artwork for Jongdae, which directly relates to the events of this chapter. So much of her art inspired the events of this fic and I highly recommend checking out the rest of her artwork in this series. It's truly amazing.
I also drew from the MAMA, Lucky One, Monster, and Power MVs.
The house that junseok live in is very much a real house, although it's more like a small palace. You can find the floor plans here, which I would recommend looking at because a lot of this fic is going to happen in this house. There are some minor modifications that I've made to the main portion of the house (the wings are the same) but for the most part everything is by the floor plan.
So many other authors on ao3 have written fabulous MAMA fics. I've browsed so much of the tag and read a good portion of them as part of my research for writing this and it's fueled my creativity in ways I haven't been expecting.
Finally, a huge thank you to my friends and betas (specifically Cat, Han and Cinny, along with so many others) who have combed through this fic many times, helping me become a better writer and stay true to the characters I'm writing. I love you all very much. <3
Chapter 2: This familiar yet strange path
Somewhere in Seoul, the wind was whispering through the buildings, dancing along the streets, weaving between people as it told them the stories of all it had seen.
And somewhere in Seoul, a boy stopped to listen to what the wind had to say.
I finished chapter five so here you go.
Don't hate me ;-;
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Taemin flipped over the last card and felt his stomach drop.
That…wasn’t good. Each card he had turned over in this reading had gotten progressively more and more grim. Whenever he read for insight into future situations it usually wasn’t anything foreboding.
But this, this was bad.
“Taemin, babe, you home?”
Taemin called out an absent-minded response, still too busy looking at the cards and hoping he was wrong. With the cards in this order, they spoke of a brewing storm, one that would drastically change and affect the lives of so many people.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were doing a reading.”
“It’s okay,” Taemin replied faintly, feeling his boyfriend come and sit behind him, his arms winding around Taemin’s narrow waist. The familiar weight of a head thumped gently between his shoulders. “How was your day?”
“Good,” came the weary reply. “We were busy today and I burned my wrist on the steamer again.”
Taemin tutted absently, flipping over the next four cards in the deck to see if the next layer revealed anything else. It didn’t—it got worse with the next layer. He carefully placed them back in the deck. “Jongin,” he said, tapping the hands around his waist, “I have something to tell you.”
Taemin loosened his grip so that he could turn around and face him. “I think you’re in danger,” he said quietly, running his hands through the soft blond strands of Jongin’s hair. It was starting to grow out, his natural black just barely showing at the roots. “I think a lot of people are going to be in danger soon.”
Jongin frowned, his forehead crinkling in confusion. “Is that what your reading showed?”
Taemin nodded hesitantly. The cards weren’t set in stone, things could change very easily and quickly, but this reading… “It wasn’t good, Nini. It hints at a coming storm. The kind that will cause pain and harm to lots of people.” He paused, brushing a finger along Jongin’s cheekbone. “People like you.”
Jongin shifted and pulled Taemin into his arms. “I’ll keep us safe, Tae, don’t worry.”
Taemin wasn’t worried about himself. But he didn’t say that, only clung tighter to Jongin and hoped he was wrong.
Kyungsoo had always loved being out in nature. Even before he knew he could influence and control the earth, he’d loved the warmth of the sun on his skin and the feeling of cool soil beneath his toes. There was something about being in the hills, the sounds of the forest surrounding him, that made him feel a peace he couldn’t find anywhere else.
Trees and dirt couldn’t hurt you or make you feel small and afraid. They just were.
“Kyungsoo, keep up!”
Kyungsoo pulled his awareness out of the surrounding nature and back to the path he was walking with his mother. The pebbles he’d been circling over his hand dropped back to the ground as he rushed to catch up with his mother. It was starting to rain quite heavily, and while they were always prepared when they went out for day hikes, she was eager to get out of the worsening storm.
They hadn’t gone very far into the hills today—just a few miles—but it had been raining all day and Kyungsoo was muddied up to his ankles after trudging through the wilderness. They did this every weekend, he and his mother, and it was his favorite part of the week. Out here he didn’t have to hide who he was or what he could do. He could show his mother the new things he was learning about his powers and watch her face transform with awe and pride.
“My strong Soo,” she’d whisper every time, hugging him tightly and placing soft kisses into his hair. “You’re such a gift to me.”
It never failed to make him feel important, special, loved. They only had each other, and they’d never needed anyone else. Once he finished high school, he and his mother moved out into a forested area in Yangpyeong where he didn’t have to constantly worry about losing control and placing them in danger. And taking online classes for his degree was much easier when he could take breaks to wander through nature and recharge when homework became too much.
Their life was quiet and solitary, but it was perfect to Kyungsoo.
“Soo,” his mother said, walking ahead of him on the path. “What do you sense?”
This was a game they played often. His mother would ask and he would dial into the earth, sensing everything growing and living and tell her what was around. Occasionally he found something unique or fascinating. Often, she would challenge him to stretch his awareness, until he could sense wildlife and other hikers miles away.
He cast his awareness out as he walked. He could feel the vibrations of their footsteps as they continued walking down the mountain, the way the roots of the trees around them soaked up the moisture saturating the earth. “There’s a herd of deer two miles south of us,” he said softly.
His mother hummed softly. “What else, my little earth mage?”
He scrunched his nose in the way she always told him made his freckles stand out more but kept looking outward. “Hikers further down the mountain from us, the ranger station five miles away is being used. I can feel the electricity humming through the ground.”
Her laughter tinkled around them, weaving with the steadily falling rain. She turned to look at him over her shoulder, her eyes crinkling with mirth. “You’re so strong now, Kyungsoo.” She shook her head slightly in disbelief.
Kyungsoo felt warmth bloom in his chest at the compliment. “I love you, mom,” he said with a laugh. “It’s so easy to make you proud.”
She stopped walking, turning around to face him fully. “How could I not be proud of a son like you?” She reached out to pull him into a hug. “You’re so perfect.”
He hugged her tightly, tucking her head under his chin. “I’m only this strong because I have a strong mother to learn from.”
She smacked his back playfully. “Who taught you to be this cheesy, huh?” She laughed, sounding a bit choked up. “I love you, too, Kyungsoo.”
Kyungsoo basked in the peace of the moment, grateful for his simple, happy life.
Something tickled in the back of his awareness, the hair rising on the back of his neck and his arms beneath his raincoat. “Something’s wrong,” he said, untangling himself from his mother and stepping back, turning to look back up the mountain.
“What is it?”
He shook his head, casting his awareness back out and trying to figure out what it was. “I don’t know…something feels…unsettled?” He dug deeper, going into the earth to try and figure out what this unstable, shaky feeling was.
He didn’t realize until it was too late.
“Mom, run!” he yelled, turning and grabbing her arm as he launched into a sprint down the mountain.
“What?” she cried, confused but stumbling after him.
He didn’t know what he was running from, but the looming danger pressing on him was something he couldn’t ignore. “Danger,” he panted, dropping her arm when she tugged free of his grip to run beside him.
They rounded a corner, his mother on the outside edge of the path next to a drop-off, and they were running too fast for the wet ground. Her foot came down on a patch of ground that was too weak, and it gave way under her weight. Kyungsoo sensed it as it was happening, heard her shriek as the ground giving way sent her stumbling off the path and on a trajectory straight over the edge.
Kyungsoo reacted on instinct, reaching out and commanding the ground to firm under her feet, catching her before she fell off the edge.
“Are you okay?” he asked, reaching out to pull her away from the edge and steadying her back on the path.
She nodded, terror making her momentarily mute.
Relief crashed through him. That had been too close. Way too close.
A small rock dropped onto the ground by his feet, and that was strange because there wasn’t—
He inhaled sharply, his senses going haywire.
“Kyungsoo,” his mother said, sensing his alarm. “What’s wron—”
She never finished her sentence.
From behind him, higher on the mountain, a rock came hurtling down the slope like a bullet and collided with his mother’s head with a sickening thunk.
“No!” he yelled, and time seemed to stretch as her eyes slipped shut and her face went lax, her body slumping toward the ground. He reached out to catch her but didn’t get the chance as a wall of earth slammed into his back and his mouth filled with mud as the mountain came down around him.
His last conscious thought was that the earth had betrayed him.
Kyungsoo came to in slow, painful increments.
“He’s waking up!”
Ow. No, that hurt. Why were they talking so loud? He didn’t need to be awake yet, so why was someone waking him up?
“Kyungsoo, can you hear me?”
He moaned to get them to go away, but the sound of his own voice echoing through his skull made pain throb sharply in his head.
A gentle hand peeled his eyelid open and a light flashed in his eyes, sending pain stabbing through him.
“Ow, fuck,” he said, and hoped his mother wasn’t in the room because she hated it when he swore.
“Kyungsoo, I need you to open your eyes,” the voice from earlier said.
Kyungsoo didn’t open his eyes, but he did raise his hand in the general direction of the voice to flip it off.
“Well, he’s definitely awake. Page Dr. Cha. And tell Dr. Jung we’re going to need a neuro consult.”
Okay, so he definitely wasn’t home. Doctors meant hospitals, which meant he must have gotten hurt. Makes sense, he thought, what with the stabbing pain in my head. In fact, now that he took stock, he felt like he’d been tossed in an industrial dryer for an hour. Everything was sore and his body felt like one giant bruise.
Even his teeth hurt. Shit.
Maybe he should open his eyes. Taking a deep breath, Kyungsoo cracked his eyes open with what felt like monumental effort. The first thing he saw was light, dim but there, followed by bubblegum floating in front of his face.
Wait, no. That didn’t make sense.
He blinked, tried to get his eyes to focus more. There was a man standing by his bed wearing navy blue scrubs. His hair was bubblegum pink.
“What kind of nurse are you?” Kyungsoo croaked. Damn, his throat felt like he’d swallowed a handful of dirt.
Bubblegum laughed softly and grabbed the cup on the tray by his bed and raised it to Kyungsoo’s lips. “Here, drink this.”
Kyungsoo drank the water in the cup, draining it gratefully. His throat felt much better now, and he felt more awake. “You didn’t answer my question.”
One eyebrow arched. “I’m not a nurse. I’m a physician’s assistant. What do you remember?”
Remember? What was he forgetti—
Everything came back to him in a rush. His mother, saving her, the rock.
“Where’s my mom?” he asked, the heart rate monitor behind him spiking as he panicked. “Is she safe?”
Bubblegum opened his mouth but was interrupted by the arrival of two doctors in the room.
“Ah, you’re awake,” the first doctor said. He was tall, tan, and blindingly handsome. The second doctor was silent and straight faced behind him, his features distinctly feline. “I’m Dr. Cha, and this is Dr. Jung from Neurology,” he said, gesturing to the pale, cat-like doctor lurking behind him. “I see you’ve met my assistant, Minseok.” Dr. Cha placed a slender hand on Bubblegum’s shoulder.
Okay, fine, but that didn’t answer his question. “What happened? Where’s my mom?”
“What do you remember,” Dr. Jung asked in a soft, light voice as he came up to Kyungsoo’s bed and flashed a penlight in his eyes.
“I remember my mom slipping on the path—it was muddy—and I remember grabbing her and pulling her back onto the path. There was a rock that came down the hill and hit her.” He looked between the doctors around him. “Can I see her? Is she okay?”
“You were caught in a landslide,” Dr. Cha began, his voice calm and steady. “The park rangers found you in an air pocket a few hours into their search.”
Kyungsoo didn’t care how they’d found him. He cared about his mother. “What about my mother?” he grit out, patience fraying. If he’d managed to form an air pocket around himself he must have done the same for his mother. She’d been right next to him.
The expression on Minseok’s face told him everything.
“When they found your mother, it was too late,” Dr. Cha said softly, his eyes sympathetic. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Kyungsoo broke, his world crumbling around him.
The second time Yixing saw Baekhyun in the mirror he didn’t scream.
He was way too groggy to do anything other than grunt and say, “Is there a reason you’re in my bedroom mirror first thing in the morning?”
Baekhyun tilted his head and grimaced, and Yixing realized after a moment of confused staring that he’d said that in Chinese, so of course Baekhyun couldn’t understand him.
“Why so early?” he tried again, this time in Korean. He yelled for Yifan before Baekhyun could respond, already knowing he’d probably need him to translate again.
“Important news,” Baekhyun said simply, patiently waiting until Yifan was stumbling blearily into the room.
“This again?” Yifan groaned when he saw Baekhyun in the full-length mirror mounted to Yixing’s wall.
“He says he has important news,” Yixing said, catching Yifan up quickly. He sat back on his bed as Yifan and Baekhyun started talking back and forth in Korean too fast for him to follow this early in the morning. He watched Baekhyun curiously as they spoke, admiring the way his mouth moved when he talked, the way his slender hands came in and out of view to illustrate the points he was making. He was expressive, emotions flitting across the delicate features of his face as fast as words spilled from his lips in a stream of excitement.
Baekhyun, Yixing realized, was very pretty.
“He found people like us,” Yifan said, cutting through Yixing’s fixation on Baekhyun. “He says there are people in Korea who have powers like us. He found them through scrying.”
Yixing blinked in surprise, looking at Baekhyun who was beaming at him in satisfaction. “Well, that’s good?”
Yifan grimaced. “He told them about us.”
Yixing’s blood went cold. “He what now?”
“He hasn’t told anyone else, I already checked,” Yifan rushed to clarify, and Yixing relaxed in relief. “He says they want him to come to them so they can help him learn his powers.”
“Is he going to go?”
“I’m still here, guys,” Baekhyun shouted in badly accented Chinese. “Stop talking about me like I’m not.”
“You speak Chinese?” Yixing asked, turning to look at Baekhyun.
“A little,” Baekhyun replied, missing the tone completely but Yixing still gave him credit for trying.
“Can you trust these others you found?” Yifan asked Baekhyun in Korean, slowly enough that Yixing could pick out the question.
Baekhyun nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! They seem cool.”
Yifan said something back too quickly for Yixing to pick up, and he remained lost in the conversation for the next few minutes as the discussion happening in front of him grew more heated.
“What’s going on?” he finally asked, fed up with being out of the loop.
“They want him to go see them, to meet them and stay with them for his safety. He doesn’t want to just yet. He has a semester to finish at SNU and he wants to find us first,” Yifan summarized neatly in Chinese.
“Did you tell him to go to them first?”
“No, I told him to stay put and keep his head down. He insists on coming here first.”
“Yifan, he can’t come here right now. He should go to them.”
Yifan looked skeptical but turned and relayed that back to Baekhyun.
“I want to find you,” Baekhyun said with a pout, looking directly at Yixing. “You’re…mine.”
Yixing tilted his head in confusion. His Korean definitely needed work because the last word Baekhyun said did not make any sense to him.
“Go,” he urged, “meet the others.” Baekhyun looked like he would rather not, but gave in surprisingly easily when Yixing looked at him seriously and said, “Please?”
“Okay,” Baekhyun replied. “Then I find you,” he said, determined.
Oh, and he was cute when he was determined. “Stay safe,” Yixing implored, reaching out to place his hand on the surface of the mirror. It was cool to the touch but warmed quickly when Baekhyun matched his hand with Yixing’s on the other side of the glass.
Baekhyun nodded once, smiled brightly, and melted away until Yixing saw only himself in the mirror.
“We could both hear him,” Yifan said suddenly.
“Last time only you could hear him,” Yifan explained. “this time both of us could hear him.” Yifan turned and looked Yixing in the eyes, very serious. “He’s getting more powerful, Xing. Let’s hope the others he found can help him learn control, or he’ll be dead the moment he steps foot in China.”
Yixing felt dread start to grow in his stomach.
The look on Yifan’s face was not comforting at all.
“How are you feeling today, Kyungsoo?”
Kyungsoo didn’t move, keeping his back to the door to his room as he lay curled on the uncomfortable hospital bed. It didn’t matter if he did or not since Minseok would check on him regardless of what he said.
The doctors had told him, once he’d calmed down enough to listen to them, that he had a few broken ribs, some cuts and scrapes, but was otherwise unharmed. They insisted he’d been very lucky, that the air pocket he’d been trapped in had saved his life.
Kyungsoo didn’t tell them that it was because of his powers that he was alive in the first place, that it was his fault his mother was dead.
He hadn’t been strong enough to save her. He wished he could trade his life for hers, but he couldn’t. She was already dead and he was here, alone.
He felt the perpetually cool hands of Minseok on his forehead, the fleeting touches he placed to Kyungsoo’s ribs checking the breaks and his breathing, making sure all his bandages were in place. “Your hands are cold,” he croaked. It was the first thing he’d said in days and his voice failed to support the words properly.
Minseok’s hands immediately lifted from his skin. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I have cold hands.”
Kyungsoo rolled his eyes. No shit, I just said that. Instead of replying, however, he simply rolled over and gave Minseok a flat stare. “When will you let me go home?”
Minseok looked at him with slightly wide eyes, tilting his head. “Dr. Cha says you can leave whenever you want. Besides your ribs, everything else is superficial and you’re clear to go home.”
Kyungsoo narrowed his eyes at Minseok. “Why did you wait until I asked to tell me this?”
Minseok glanced at him guiltily before turning to fiddle with the IV drip. “I…thought that you might want some time to figure out what you’ll do before we discharged you.”
“You mean because my mother is dead and I don’t have family to go home to anymore?”
Minseok flinched and whirled around to face him. “That’s not what I meant…” he hesitantly reached out and placed a cool hand on top of Kyungsoo’s on the bed. “Do you have somewhere to go, though?” Kyungsoo’s silence was answer enough for Minseok.
“I don’t have a home anymore,” he whispered, needing to say it out loud so that it was real. The police had come and talked to him a few days ago, informing him that the landslide had buried his house as well as killed his mother. The earth had taken everything from him. “Besides, home was my mother, and without her,” he shrugged, refusing to let the tears prickling the back of his throat to get any further than that. He looked up at Minseok’s wide-eyed sympathy and shrugged again, at a loss for words.
Minseok pursed his lips. “I might have a solution for you, if you’re interested.”
“Sure. I don’t have very many options.”
“Give me a day or two,” Minseok said, backing away from the bed and writing something on Kyungsoo’s chart. “I’ll be back to check on you in a few hours.”
Kyungsoo gave him a feeble wave before rolling back over, taking pressure off his injured ribs, and going back to sleep.
It was easier to sleep than to be awake right now.
Luhan threw a pillow at him from across the room, and with great effort Zitao managed to freeze it in midair, halting it between their two beds as he wrapped a bubble of frozen time around it.
“Good, Taozi,” Luhan said softly, careful not to break his concentration. They’d been practicing his control over the last few weeks in the abundant spare time they had. Since Luhan already had moderate control over his powers, he’d been teaching Zitao what he knew and pushing Zitao into more and more difficult things.
“How long should I hold it here?” Zitao asked, panting slightly. Even though his control was getting better, it was still incredibly draining to harness time so exactly when a while ago he’d still been slipping in and out of the present.
Luhan opened his mouth to reply the same instant the door to their room opened with a beep and Yixing walked into the room.
Zitao dropped the bubble of frozen time around the pillow, sputtering when it continued its arc and hit him in the face.
“Pillow fight?” Yixing laughed, shutting the door behind him with a nudge of his hip. “Aren’t you both a bit too old to be playing with pillows?”
Luhan and Zitao traded nervous glances. Had Yixing seen? Had he realized the pillow had been suspended in the air?
“We were bored,” Luhan supplied, drumming his fingers on his knee.
Yixing gave them both an amused look. “Well, don’t hurt yourselves. I’ll be back in a few hours with your evening meds. Try not to break anything, okay?” He left the room without any further teasing, his smile as warm and soft as it always was.
Zitao waved as he walked out, turning to Luhan once the door clicked shut behind Yixing. He threw the pillow back across the room. “Again.”
“No,” Junmyeon said when Minseok finally hunted him down in their mansion of a home.
“Jun,” Minseok said evenly. “He doesn’t have anything, anymore. He lost everything in the landslide.”
Junmyeon looked up from the baseboard he was finishing painting. He was working in the bedroom that was almost finished, making it livable for Jongdae so that they didn’t have to keep sleeping on the couches. “Seok, we would have to hide who we are with him here. I don’t know if that will be possible with Jongdae here now.”
“What’s not possible?” Jongdae asked, walking into the room. “Hey, the room looks great! I love this color,” he said gesturing to the walls that were painted a soothing buttercream yellow. “This is my room, right?”
“Minseok wants to bring home another stray,” Junmyeon said, standing up and resting his hands on his hips, flecks of white paint in his dark blue hair, a paintbrush in one hand. “But he’s not like us, so we would have to hide if he came to live with us. And yes, this is your room, I’m glad you like it.”
Jongdae gave Minseok a skeptical look. “You want to bring someone home?”
Minseok rubbed a hand down his face. “Listen, a landslide destroyed his home and killed his mother. He’s lucky to have survived, honestly. He doesn’t have anyone else and I feel bad.” He held up a hand to stop the protest he could see forming in Junmyeon’s eyes. “We have the room, and it’s not like we couldn’t afford it. It would only be until he got his life back under control and found another place to stay.”
Junmyeon pursed his lips.
“Please?” Minseok asked, stepping close and placing a gentle kiss to Junmyeon’s cheek. “He has nothing, Myeon.”
Junmyeon sighed and looked over at Jongdae, who was busy pretending like he was absorbed in admiring the furniture in the room. “What do you think, Jongdae?”
“Me?” Jongdae replied, pointing to himself. “Uh, this isn’t my house? It’s not my decision?”
Minseok turned to give him a flat look. “You have your own room now,” he said, gesturing to the room around him fully furnished with a bed and dresser, as well as a plush beanbag in one corner and lamps artfully arranged around the room. “You have as much say in decisions that will affect anyone in this house as we do.”
Jongdae looked surprised, and the lights in the room flickered. “Oh,” he thought for a moment, “well, if he needs somewhere safe to heal and like…I don’t know…grieve? You said he lost his mom, right?” Minseok nodded. “Then, this is as good of a place as any.”
Minseok pumped his fist in triumph. “I’ll bring him home in the next day or two.”
Junmyeon sighed. “I’ll hire a renovation team to get another room ready. Do you think he has a preference over what color I paint his room?”
Minseok beamed and kissed Junmyeon deeply. “You’re the best, darling.”
Jongdae made a retching noise and wrinkled his nose. “Gross. Get out of my room.”
“Alright,” Minseok laughed. “We’re going.” He helped Junmyeon gather up the last of his painting trays and brushes and headed for the door.
A faint ringing echoed through the house.
“Was that the doorbell?” Jongdae asked, his head tilting in confusion.
Minseok and Junmyeon traded a glance. “I don’t know,” Junmyeon said slowly. “I’ve never had someone ring the bell.”
They all stared at one another for a second longer before rushing out of Jongdae’s room and down the grand stairs to the door.
Minseok reached the doors first, heaving one of them open to reveal a slightly scrawny kid standing on their doorstep, his back to them.
“Can I help you?” Junmyeon asked, smiling his polite ‘I don’t know you, go away’ smile.
Minseok gasped when the kid stopped gaping at the grounds and turned to look at them instead. “Hey guys!” he said brightly, waving.
“It’s Baekhyun!” Minseok exclaimed, pointing at Baekhyun’s smiling face. “What—why?”
“What are you doing here?” Junmyeon asked, looking shocked.
Jongdae reached out and poked Baekhyun in the side of the cheek.
“Ouch!” Baekhyun jumped about a foot in the air when Jongdae touched him. “Did you just shock me?” He did a double take when he saw Jongdae. “Dude, what’s wrong with your face?”
Jongdae shrugged. “I had to make sure you were real and not an illusion. Also, I shock people when I get excited. Sue me. And it’s a long story,” Jongdae answered.
Baekhyun shrugged, taking another long look at Jongdae’s face and wincing slightly. Jongdae smiled blithely, unaffected by Baekhyun’s staring.
Junmyeon looked around nervously before ushering Baekhyun inside.
“You didn’t tell me you lived in a palace,” Baekhyun gasped, eyes wide as he spun slowly around the foyer. “This place is incredible.”
“And you didn’t tell us you were coming.” Junmyeon crossed his arms and leveled his best stern look at Baekhyun.
It was completely lost on Baekhyun, who, upon seeing the grand staircase in front of him, dropped his bag and ran for the stairs. “How many rooms does this place have? Where do the stairs go?”
Minseok and Junmyeon shared a look before rushing after Baekhyun, who was halfway up the stairs to the second floor already, Jongdae quick to follow them.
“Woah! Whose room is this?”
Minseok followed the sound of Baekhyun’s voice into Jongdae’s new room. Baekhyun was busy running around the room, exploring.
“This bathroom is bigger than my dorm!” He ran back into the bedroom. “I want this room.”
“Hold on just a minute,” Jongdae panted, out of breath from running up the stairs, “this is my room, brat.”
“Okay, so where is my room?” Baekhyun looked between Junmyeon and Minseok, his eyes wide and excited.
“Uh,” Junmyeon hesitated, looking quickly at Minseok who shrugged, “We can get another one ready? One of the rooms in the west wing is almost finished and wouldn’t take much more work if we all help.”
“The west wing?” Baekhyun shrieked. “What kind of place is this?”
Jongdae answered before either Minseok or Junmyeon could. “It’s unreal. I’ve been here for almost two weeks now and I still haven’t seen the whole house.”
Baekhyun glowed with excitement, literally, bursting into motion once again before anyone could so much as twitch.
Minseok sighed as Jongdae took off after Baekhyun, following at a more sedate pace as Baekhyun ran down the hallway of the west wing. He bypassed the bedrooms for the library at the end of the wing, the second floor forming a balcony that overlooked the first floor of the library.
“What are we going to do, Minseok?” Junmyeon asked softly, catching up to him and threading his fingers through Minseok’s. “He hasn’t calmed down enough yet to explain, but it seems like he’ll be staying with us for at least a few days, and if you bring home the other kid…that makes five people in this house.”
Minseok shrugged. “What can we do? Turn him away? We did tell Baekhyun to come here, and he obviously needs to gain some control over his powers. Plus, Kyungsoo needs somewhere to go.”
Junmyeon sighed and watched as Baekhyun raced past them again with a screech, Jongdae on his heels. The energetic pair sprinted down the west wing stairs, bypassing the main floor and going straight for the basement level. Minseok and Junmyeon hurried to follow.
“Do you think Baekhyun will be able to control himself around someone normal?”
They both watched Baekhyun as he explored the in-home theater, flopping onto one of the giant Lovesacs with a giggle.
“What if we put them in different wings?” Minseok suggested. “Didn’t you have a crew come in and refurbish the rooms in the east wing? We could put Kyungsoo there. He’ll probably appreciate the ability to grieve in private.”
Junmyeon pondered Minseok’s suggestion as Baekhyun raced past them yet again, yelling, “There’s a pool down here??”
“What the shit?” Jongdae cried, looking over Baekhyun’s shoulder into the pool room. “Why didn’t you guys tell me there was a pool?”
“It’s mine,” Junmyeon growled, dropping Minseok’s hand to march over and shut the door to the pool room. “Don’t ruin my happy place.” He pointed at Baekhyun and Jongdae in what he probably thought was a menacing manner. Minseok thought he looked cute, with an adorable crinkle between his eyebrows and his lips in a pout.
Baekhyun pouted right back at him. “But I like to swim.”
Instead of answering him, Junmyeon pulled a thin stream of water under the door to the pool room and whipped it directly into Baekhyun’s face.
“Junmyeon controls water,” Minseok explained to a now soggy Baekhyun. “The pool is his room.”
Baekhyun used the hem of his shirt to dry off his face. “Fine, but where is my room going to be?”
“So, you are staying,” Jongdae said, sounding triumphant.
Baekhyun looked between the three of them blankly. “Wasn’t it you three that insisted I come here? Did I somehow get that wrong?” He didn’t look all that concerned that he might have misunderstood.
“No, you got that right.” Junmyeon began herding Baekhyun and Jongdae up the main staircase. “But it would have been nice if you would have given us some warning.”
“Oh,” Baekhyun said, like the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “I’ll do that next time.”
Minseok doubted that Baekhyun would do any such thing, but he kept that thought to himself. “Junmyeon should have a room finished for you in the west wing by tomorrow. Does the room by the library sound good?”
“Is that the one that had the sunroom on one side?” Baekhyun asked as they reached the main floor again. He skipped over to where his bag lay discarded in the main foyer, picking it back up and turning to face the three of them.
“Yes, that’s the one,” Junmyeon answered, sounding like he needed a nap.
“Why don’t I have a sunroom?” Jongdae whined.
“You have a balcony,” Minseok said, grabbing both Jongdae and Baekhyun and starting to drag them upstairs in the direction of Jongdae’s room. “You’re fine.” He let go of their wrists once they’d reached the threshold of Jongdae’s room. “Baekhyun, you’ll be rooming with Jongdae until Junmyeon finishes your room. We’ve already eaten tonight, but if you’re hungry Jongdae can show you where the kitchen is.”
“You’re welcome to explore the house if you’d like, but stay out of our room,” Minseok continued, cutting Baekhyun off before he could argue. “Jongdae can show you where our room is. I’d also advise you stay out of the east tower and the third floor, since we haven’t had a chance to get those renovated completely yet.”
“And for the love of water,” Junmyeon added, running a hand through his already disheveled dark blue hair, “please keep quiet. Minseok has an early shift at the hospital and I want to be asleep ten minutes ago. Understood?”
“Got it, dads,” Jongdae said, giving them a lazy salute. Baekhyun opened his mouth to say something else, but Jongdae slapped his hand over Baekhyun’s face. “We’ll be quiet.”
Minseok followed Junmyeon down the stairs and into their bedroom. Laughing lightly when Junmyeon collapsed face-down on their bed the second he was within range of it.
“Tired?” he asked, gently sitting next to Junmyeon’s prone figure and starting to run his fingers through Junmyeon’s hair.
Junmyeon groaned into the sheets in response, before slowly shuffling over to rest his head in Minseok’s lap. “Are you bringing Kyungsoo home tomorrow when you get off shift?”
“Yeah, will you have enough time to get a room ready for him and Baekhyun tomorrow?”
Junmyeon sighed, his eyelids fluttering as Minseok hit the spot behind his left ear that he loved getting scratched. “I’ll get it done.”
Minseok hummed, studying the relaxed planes of Junmyeon’s face as he kept lightly scratching his fingers against his scalp. With the flecks of paint scattered in his hair, his head looked like the night sky. If Minseok looked hard enough, he could probably find constellations, whole galaxies in the deep blue strands of Junmyeon’s hair.
He spent another moment admiring him, before shaking him gently. “I need to shower. Do you want to join, me? Maybe get some of this paint off you?”
Junmyeon blinked one eye open. “Only if you promise to take care of me.”
“Oh?” Minseok raised an eyebrow. “When have I not?”
Junmyeon didn’t answer. Instead he heaved himself up into a sitting position, groaning, and then got off the bed, dragging Minseok up with him. “Let’s go.”
Minseok placed a soft kiss against Junmyeon’s lips before throwing his arms around Junmyeon’s neck and sagging against him. “Carry me.”
Junmyeon wrapped his arms tightly around Minseok’s waist, lifting him slightly and waddling into the bathroom with him, both giggling the whole way.
Kyungsoo was listlessly clicking through channels on the TV mounted to his wall in his hospital room when the doctor came in, Minseok behind him.
“I’m discharging you today,” Dr. Cha said. “Let’s get you out of here, yeah?”
Kyungsoo shrugged. He didn’t have anywhere to go to, so getting discharged wasn’t really that exciting of an idea to him currently.
Dr. Cha frowned. “I know you’ve had a rough go of things, but getting out of here is a step forward, as scary of a step as it may seem right now.”
Kyungsoo raised an eyebrow. A step forward? How was he supposed to move forward when his entire life, everything he loved, was dead and buried?
“I’ll take care of everything, Dr. Cha,” Minseok said, jumping in helpfully when Kyungsoo remained silent. “Don’t worry.”
Dr. Cha turned and smiled at Minseok. “Alright.” He looked at Kyungsoo, his smile going soft and sincere around the edges. “Take care, Kyungsoo.”
Minseok waited until Dr. Cha was out of the room before he spoke to Kyungsoo. “I’ve got a place for you to stay, if you’d like. It’s quiet, you’ll have all the space and time to yourself you could want, and you can stay as long as you like.”
It sounded too good to be true. “Where?” he asked, not believing it for one second.
Minseok chewed his bottom lip. “It’s my house.” He went on hurriedly when Kyungsoo scowled. “It’s really big! There are tons of room and lots of space, like I said, and you won’t be bothered, I promise.” He fiddled with his hands anxiously, before reaching over to take out Kyungsoo’s IV.
Kyungsoo mulled it over while Minseok continued unhooking him from various machines. He did need somewhere to stay, and at this point he would take anything. The promise of quiet and time to himself was appealing as well, and he knew he was going to say yes before Minseok was finished filling out his discharge papers.
“When will we leave?” Kyungsoo asked into the quiet.
Minseok looked up from his clipboard, his eyes wide with surprise. “Oh, um, I’m done with my shift in an hour. We can leave then. I’ll make sure you get some real clothes in the meantime.”
Kyungsoo looked down at his hospital gown and grimaced. It hadn’t occurred to him to even think about clothes, but now it was hitting him that everything was gone. He didn’t have anything, not anymore, and he was glad when Minseok left the room a second later with a promise to be back soon so that he could take a minute to collect himself.
By the time Minseok returned, a clean pair of scrubs in his hands, Kyungsoo had composed himself and become content in his helplessness. There was nothing he could do for now except accept Minseok’s kindness.
“Ready?” Minseok asked after he’d changed into the scrubs.
Kyungsoo nodded, following Minseok out of the hospital and to his car. The ride to Minseok’s house was quiet, the radio playing softly on some oldies station that was playing the kind of trot music his mom used to sing while doing the dishes. Kyungsoo didn’t have the heart to ask Minseok to change it, the fragile reminder of his mother painful but also soothing.
The trip to Minseok’s house seemed endless, the journey taking them out of the city as the buildings blurred into long stretches of empty land before the road became surrounded by greenery. Trees and ferns enveloped the road until Kyungsoo had seen so many trees that he almost had forgotten what a house looked like. When the car came to a stop and Minseok turned off the engine, reaching into the backseat to get his bag, Kyungsoo stepped out of the car and gaped.
House was an understatement. Minseok lived in a mansion.
Minseok came around the car for him, chuckling softly when he saw the dazed look on Kyungsoo’s face, and gently took his wrist to lead him into the house.
“Your room is going to be on the second floor in the east wing,” Minseok said as they both took off their shoes in and placed them on a shoe rack in what Minseok called the east gallery—whatever that was. It just looked like a narrow hallway to Kyungsoo.
Minseok lead Kyungsoo into the foyer, quickly showing him around the main floor. “The kitchen is in the east corner, past the sunroom. You’re welcome to help yourself to anything you find in there. This,” he pointed to the massive room in front of them, behind the main staircase, “is the great room. It’s mostly empty right now because Junmyeon hasn’t been able to decide on what furniture he wants to put in it, but the fireplace does work, so I’m excited for when winter comes.” He pulled Kyungsoo after him as he continued down the hall to their left.
“This is the west corner, and it’s where Junmyeon and I sleep. If you need anything and can’t find us, we’re probably in here. If the door to our bedroom is shut…knock first.” He winked at Kyungsoo, laughing when Kyungsoo wrinkled his nose at him in response. “You’re always welcome to chill in our sitting room though. Junmyeon did it in all blues, and I find it’s very soothing.”
Kyungsoo peeked his head into the sitting room. It was very blue, but Minseok was right, it did seem calming, the natural light from the setting sun washing the room with a soft golden glow that made the room feel warm and dreamy.
Minseok pulled him around the corner, walking halfway down the hall before ducking through a doorway on their left. “This is the library on the main floor,” he said, walking through the room quickly until they were back at the main staircase. Kyungsoo got the brief impression of dark wood and the smell of books before he was being led up the stairs and on the second floor. Minseok pointed to their left. “Jongdae is in the room in the west corner, and down that way,” he turned, pointing down a hallway where Kyungsoo could see another set of stairs and beyond those, a hallway with doors to what he assumed were rooms, “is Baekhyun’s room. Neither of them will bother you. I’ve already told them to stay out of your wing.”
“How many people live here?” Kyungsoo asked. He couldn’t do anything about it—he was here on someone else’s charity—but he felt like Minseok kept listing people endlessly.
“That’s it. You’re the newest addition.” He led Kyungsoo around the stairs to the right and toward what Kyungsoo saw was the east wing. “The east wing is different than the others,” Minseok explained, leading Kyungsoo past what looked like a study and the stairs, reaching a hallway with open doors on either side that led to rooms. Past those rooms though, were two closed doors. “The east wing is more a suite of rooms, rather than just single rooms like the west wing has.” Minseok opened the left door, stepping through and gesturing for Kyungsoo to follow.
Beyond the doorway, the room opened into a small living room. There was a door just off to his left that he assumed opened into one of this the bedrooms they had already walked past. There was a wall to his right, cleanly dividing the room in half. On the end of the room furthest from where he was standing, there was a small kitchen area, with a small sink and a mini fridge.
It was about the same size as the tiny house he shared—used to share—with his mother, and a wave of grief hit him unexpectedly. It looked similar to his home, but no amount of familiarity would make it feel anything like the home he’d lost. Nothing could replace that kind of safety and love once it was gone.
“At the end of this room there’s another door that leads into your bedroom and bathroom. This whole suite is yours, if you want it.” Minseok smiled and stepped back, gesturing for Kyungsoo to look around.
Everything was immaculate. The rooms looked like they’d been professionally decorated. The living area he was standing in was done in soft creams and deep browns. The beige carpet beneath his feet was thick and soft, the three windows along the east wall were lined with sheer curtains that muted the light coming through. Everything about the room was warm and welcoming.
It reminded him of a warm spring morning, and he kind of hated it. Anything that reminded him of nature was painful right now, and maybe it always would be. Betrayals from the things you love always seemed to sting longer, the hurt lingering far more than anything else.
Kyungsoo moved through the kitchen, briefly admiring the grey granite of the countertops, the dark wood of the floor, before he was opening the door to the bedroom at the end of the wing. The bedroom was done in rich shades of green that were somehow still warm and soothing. The walls were a soft sage green, the carpet the same beige from the living room.
As he wandered further into the room, he saw the bed, dresser, and nightstand table were all made from a dark wood that matched the floors of the kitchen almost perfectly. In the far-right corner there was a circular room—no doubt one of the small tower-like peaks that were on each corner of the wings on the outside of the house. The space in the corner was lined with a padded seat all the way around, so that someone could sit and look out the windows that lined the curved space.
A few weeks ago, this would have been his dream room, something that reminded him of the earth he loved so much. Now it just felt like adding salt to his already stinging wounds.
The bedsheets and patterned bedspread were a deep forest green, a mixture of beige and green pillows completing the room. Kyungsoo turned around, looking at Minseok who was watching him from the doorway of his walk-in closet.
“This is too much,” he said, gesturing a bit helplessly to the room around him. “I can’t possibly stay here.” He didn’t know if he could stand being reminded of the very thing that had taken everything from him.
Minseok scoffed gently. “Of course you can. Junmyeon spent a lot of time designing this suite. Someone should get to appreciate it.”
Then again, he didn’t have any other options. He had nothing, nowhere to go, so he would have to accept this no matter how much it hurt. “Still, I need to repay you for this.”
Minseok studied him appraisingly. “Heal up, first,” Minseok said, walking over and gesturing to Kyungsoo’s still bandaged ribs and tapping a cool finger to Kyungsoo’s temple. “That’s what you can do for now. Once you’re feeling better we can find a way for you to help out around here.”
Kyungsoo swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Okay,” he said, somewhat weakly.
Minseok smiled gently. “I’ll let you get settled in. Tomorrow is my day off, so we’ll go into town and get you some new clothes and a few other things. The bathroom should be stocked with everything you need. If you’re feeling up to it, we usually eat dinner around eight. I can introduce you to everyone else.” He shrugged. “If not, your fridge up here has some food in it, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Kyungsoo nodded, watching as Minseok gave him one last look before walking out of the room and shutting the door behind him. Kyungsoo didn’t move until he heard the door to the living room close faintly, and then he rushed to the bed. Careful of his ribs, he crawled beneath the blankets and buried his face in the soft, plush pillows.
The room was perfect and terrible, and all at once a wave of heartbreak crashed into him—heartbreak he had been pushing aside, refusing to acknowledge, ever since he’d woken up. If he didn’t acknowledge the persistent ache between his ribs maybe it wouldn’t be real. Maybe he would wake up to the smell of his mother’s cooking and the sound of her voice as she sang trot songs brightly enough to rival the birds that sang him awake every morning.
But being here…he couldn’t ignore reality, and the realization that he’ll never hear her lilting voice welcoming him into wakefulness, never taste her tteokbokki or jajangmyeon again hit him harder than the landslide had. His ribs ached as he drew in a shuddering breath. He’ll never have her seaweed soup again, never feel her arms embracing him and making him feel safe, protected, loved.
A sob ripped itself free of the tightness in his throat, startling him, and tears began to soak the pillow under his head, but it was too late to push it back. The grief he’d been holding back for days washed over him until he felt like he was drowning beneath the weight of it.
At least up here, nobody could hear him cry.
Somewhere in Seoul, the wind was whispering through the buildings, dancing along the streets, weaving between people as it told them the stories of all it had seen.
And somewhere in Seoul, a boy stopped to listen to what the wind had to say.
I'm so sorry Kyungsoo ;-;
Chapter 3: come to me, hurry before the sun rise
They were nearly nose to nose, and Yixing found himself falling into the warm chocolate of Baekhyun’s eyes. There was a soft glow to him, his skin vibrant and rich, as if someone had turned up the saturation filter on him until he was steeped in color. He was drawn to Baekhyun in a way he couldn’t explain, the desire to touch and hold and never let him go nearly overwhelming
This is such a good chapter I love this one enjoy <3
There's some sexual content ahead, as a warning. Nothing warranting a rating change, but I thought I'd let you know <3
Jongdae couldn’t sleep.
There was a constant buzz of energy under his skin, begging for an outlet of some kind, and he was having a hard time falling asleep with nothing but the sound of his breathing filling up the room.
Giving up after another few restless minutes, Jongdae shoved the covers off and got out of bed. It was too cold to sit out on his balcony, so Jongdae decided to curl up in the sunroom that was down the hall from the kitchen. It was still an enclosed room, but it had a glass ceiling that he could lay beneath. Hopefully being able to see the night sky would help him sleep.
He padded quietly down the main stairs, the marble floor of the foyer cold on his bare feet. When he rounded the corner, passing by the great room that was a dark void, he saw lights on in the kitchen. It was late—after midnight at least—and he didn’t know who would be awake. Maybe it was Baekhyun? Sparks knows that boy had more energy than anyone Jongdae knew, including himself—which was a feat considering Jongdae literally had electricity coursing through his veins.
When he got closer, bare feet silent on the marble floor, Jongdae could see someone he didn’t recognize rifling through the cabinets for food. He was about to sneak up on the stranger and shock him into unconsciousness when he realized something. Hadn’t Minseok mentioned that he’d be bringing home someone else? What did he say his name was…
“Kyungsoo?” Jongdae asked, not sure if he’d gotten the name right.
The stranger jumped in surprised, his shoulders flinching up around his ears as he slowly turned around to face Jongdae. “Uh,” he said. “Yes?”
Jongdae gave Kyungsoo his most reassuring smile, hoping to put him at ease. “I didn’t know anyone would be up. I’m Jongdae. My room is in the west corner on the second floor.”
Kyungsoo blinked at him, expression blank.
“Umm,” Jongdae didn’t know what else to say, and the moment stretched into awkwardness the longer he stood there like an idiot. “What are you making?” he finally asked, desperate.
Kyungsoo looked pointedly at the stovetop where a pot of water was boiling, a packet of ramen sitting next to it on the counter. “Ramen.”
Jongdae felt like an idiot. “Well, I couldn’t sleep.” He bit his lip, not really knowing what to do. Hadn’t Minseok said something about Kyungsoo losing everything he had in some sort of natural disaster? Maybe he wouldn’t mind company. “I was going to lie on the couches in the sunroom and look at the stars until I fell asleep.” He gestured to where the sunroom was, down the east hallway from the kitchen. “You’re welcome to join me.”
Kyungsoo followed with his gaze where Jongdae was pointing, peering into the darkness as he tried to see past the lights of the kitchen and into the dark hallway beyond. Jongdae was a second away from bringing the lights to life with a snap of his fingers and a surge of electricity before he remembered just in time that Kyungsoo didn’t know about their powers.
Instead he stepped closer to Kyungsoo. He was about Jongdae’s height, skin a healthy golden bronze that spoke to hours out in the sun. There was the faintest smattering of freckles over the bridge of his nose. His short dark hair was a ruffled mess on top of his head, probably from sleep, and his mouth was fixed in a permanent semi-pout.
“What are you staring at?” Kyungsoo asked, raising a thick eyebrow.
“You,” Jongdae said as shamelessly as he knew how. Kyungsoo was cute, he wasn’t going to pretend otherwise.
It was Jongdae’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Uh, okay.” He shrugged it off. “I’ll be in there if you want to join me,” he said, pointing once more down the east hallway to the sunroom before moving slowly around the center island, past Kyungsoo, and out of the kitchen.
He didn’t bother turning on the lights in the sunroom. There was enough moonlight spilling in through the glass ceiling that he could make out the shapes of the couches. He picked up a throw blanket draped over an armchair—there were blankets all over this house because Minseok was always cold—and wrapped it around himself before flopping onto one of the plush couches. He wiggled around until he was comfortable, relaxing into the cushions as the stars came into focus.
He could hear the faint sounds of Kyungsoo in the kitchen, and he wondered if Kyungsoo would join him. It was clear that Kyungsoo was withdrawn and quiet, but Jongdae also thought that maybe he could use a friend.
If he’d lost everything in his life, he would need one.
The sounds from the kitchen faded, and Jongdae’s eyes began to grow heavy as he kept staring up at the stars. Something about being able to see the sky put him at ease in a way that very few other things did, the tranquility of the stars soothing his worries away. He was almost asleep when the sound of soft footsteps on the thick rugs in the room roused him.
Kyungsoo was curling up in the armchair by the couch Jongdae was stretched out on. He didn’t look in Jongdae’s direction, just arranged himself so that he could relax into the chair and look up comfortably. He’d found another blanket that he had draped around himself.
Jongdae watched him for a while through barely open eyes, wondering what he was thinking about, if he was okay. He wasn’t too surprised when he spotted the faint lines of wetness on Kyungsoo’s cheeks, barely visible in the hazy silver light cast from the moon.
He didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke up to bright morning light flooding into the room the armchair was empty, the blanket folded neatly across the back of the chair as if Kyungsoo had never been there at all.
When Minseok walked into the great room, the last thing he expected was to find it as bright as daylight.
“What…?” He looked around, shook his head to clear it. He had just gotten off a thirty-hour shift at the hospital and last he’d known it was the middle of the night, but in the great room it looked like midday. Was he hallucinating? Had the long hours and sleep deprivation finally gotten to him? All he wanted to do was curl up in bed with Junmyeon for the next twelve hours.
A voice interrupted his weary thoughts, and he spun around to find Baekhyun and Junmyeon walking into the room.
“You’re home,” Junmyeon said, walking up to Minseok and gathering him up in his arms. “How was work?” He placed a long, lingering kiss to Minseok’s lips that disoriented him enough that it took him a moment to respond.
“Exhausting,” he finally managed. “Why does it look like the middle of a summer day in here?” Minseok asked, waving a hand at the room in general as he leaned more of his weight into Junmyeon.
“That’s my doing!” Baekhyun said happily, and Minseok jumped slightly. He’d forgotten Baekhyun was there for a moment, which was odd because he had sworn Baekhyun was standing right in front of him so how…?
“Have you always been standing there?” Minseok blinked at Baekhyun in confusion. Baekhyun and Junmyeon shared a delighted look. “What is going on?”
“I’ve been helping Baekhyun gain more control over his powers,” Junmyeon explained, taking pity on Minseok. “We’ve been experimenting with what he can do. I’ve been making him maintain the illusion of light in this room as we wander further and further away from the room, expanding his reach and concentration.”
“I’m very powerful, at least Junmyeon thinks so.” Baekhyun smiled brighter than the room itself. “He also wanted me to try bending the light around my body, to see if I could make myself invisible.”
Something clicked into place in Minseok’s tired brain. “Is that why I forgot you were in the room? You actually disappeared?”
Baekhyun laughed in delight.
“You’re also very tired,” Junmyeon said. “I doubt it would work if you had been fully alert. He still needs a lot more practice.”
“He’s learned this much in two days?” Minseok felt overwhelmed. Baekhyun had only been with them for a few days, and already he had learned so much.
Junmyeon nodded. “He’s a very good student. I’ve been keeping his training at night though, to keep out of Kyungsoo’s notice.”
“How is he? Is he alright?” Minseok couldn’t help but feel worried. He wanted to check in on Kyungsoo, but it would have to wait until he had slept.
Junmyeon shrugged. “I haven’t seen him at all. Jongdae saw him once, but other than that he has kept to his rooms.”
Minseok bit his lip, concerned. He’d been hoping that Kyungsoo would come out of his rooms by now, but at least he’d met Jongdae.
“Come on,” Junmyeon urged, leading Minseok out of the room, Baekhyun trailing behind them. “You can check on him after you’ve slept, and we can spend tomorrow discussing our next steps. Baekhyun wants to leave at the end of this week for China.”
“What?” Minseok nearly tripped over his own feet in surprise. He looked back at Baekhyun. “Do you even speak Chinese?”
“Jongdae has been teaching me the basics!” Baekhyun looked far too pleased with himself. “Besides, I really need to meet Yixing in person. I think he’s…important to me? Or he could be.” Baekhyun shook his head like he didn’t know what he was trying to say, which made sense because Minseok had no idea what he was talking about. “It’s weird but like, I get the feeling that I need to meet Yixing. Something is pulling me to him.”
Junmyeon sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “It’s too late to deal with this. We’ll talk tomorrow morning.” He shooed Baekhyun toward the stairs before pulling Minseok into their bedroom.
Exhaustion was dogging every step Minseok took, and it was all he could do to make it to the bed before he collapsed.
“How’s your Chinese, babe?” Junmyeon gently began undressing Minseok, taking off his shoes and helping him out of his scrubs.
Minseok blinked blearily. “It’s fine I guess. Could be better. Why?” He lifted his arms so that Junmyeon could remove his shirt, shivering as the cold air hit his bare skin.
“Because,” Junmyeon’s voice was muffled as he walked into their closet, returning with a thick sweater that he quickly stuffed Minseok into. “I’m going to have Baekhyun scry them tomorrow, and I want you to talk to them. Maybe Jongdae too, since he knows some Chinese.”
Minseok struggled to get himself under the covers, shivering until Junmyeon flicked off the lights and crawled in next to him. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” He asked as he curled into Junmyeon, throwing an arm around his waist and tangling their legs.
Junmyeon hissed as Minseok pressed his icy toes against the skin of his shins. “I think we need to meet these people Baekhyun has been talking to. I don’t trust him to know who he can trust.”
Minseok yawned. “But they’re in China.”
“That doesn’t automatically make them dangerous, Minseok. They aren’t all going to be like Nailiang.” Junmyeon ran a soothing hand through Minseok’s hair, peppering soft kisses against his face as he did so. “We need to keep Baekhyun safe. He’s one of us, now.”
“We do seem to be collecting children these days.” Minseok rubbed his nose into Junmyeon’s collarbone before placing a gentle kiss to his bare skin. “I thought you said we weren’t ready for kids yet?”
Junmyeon tilted his chin up with a finger. “Go to sleep, Minseok.” He placed a lazy kiss against his mouth.
Minseok smiled against the feeling of Junmyeon’s lips on his and fell into a deep sleep.
Warm afternoon sunlight and the feeling of lips working down his neck drew Minseok slowly into consciousness.
He became aware of Junmyeon’s hand rubbing slow circles on his hip, his other hand trapped under Minseok’s neck, and the way Junmyeon lightly scraped his teeth down the column of Minseok’s neck.
This was, undisputedly, Minseok’s favorite way to wake up, and he sighed while he pressed himself back against Junmyeon, wiggling his hips as he did so.
The movement coaxed a low groan from Junmyeon, who bit down lightly at the juncture of Minseok’s neck and shoulder in retaliation. The gentle twinge of the bite made Minseok shiver, and he rolled his hips back into Junmyeon’s with more force, his teasing giving way under a sudden need and purposefulness.
Junmyeon put pressure on his hip, urging him to roll over, and Minseok complied just so he could see the want simmering in Junmyeon’s eyes. After so long together they didn’t need words, and Minseok pulled Junmyeon close and kissed him deeply.
Even just after waking up, Junmyeon tasted like a fresh spring creek, clean and cool and crisp as Minseok coaxed his mouth open with skillful flicks of his tongue until Junmyeon melted beneath him. The benefits of having a boyfriend who could manipulate water meant that morning breath was never an issue. Minseok had no reservations about using every dirty trick in his book to get Junmyeon shivering under him, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth before kissing him more and more deeply.
They did this often enough that actual conversation with words wasn’t needed, instead the communication happened through lips and tongues, hands on skin and the lazy roll of Minseok’s hips against Junmyeon’s to tell him that this afternoon, Junmyeon wanted him like this.
They made quick work of what little clothing they were wearing, and Junmyeon stretched for the lube they kept handy in the nightstand, shoving the bottle into Minseok’s hand as he gasped while Minseok lightly brushed kisses down his bare chest.
“Hurry up,” Junmyeon said, the edge of a whine seeping into his voice. “It’s been too long.”
Minseok snorted against Junmyeon’s hip. It had been since his last day off, but that was almost four days ago which was a dry spell for them. Instead of answering, Minseok opened the bottle in his hands and got to work.
It never took long to get Junmyeon ready. He was always pliant and willing under Minseok’s hands, as fluid as the water he controlled.
As often as they did this, Minseok never got tired of the way Junmyeon sighed every time he finally slid in, the way he would shiver and shake as Minseok made sure to get his most sensitive spots with each stroke. The ease of knowing each other for so long, the steady familiarity with each other’s bodies, the depth of emotion that swirled between them like gentle eddies in a deep, slow moving river; it made everything better.
Minseok was slow and steady, refusing to move faster no matter how much Junmyeon begged for it. It was better for them both when Junmyeon was stretched to his limits, body coiling tighter around Minseok as he came closer and closer to the edge, wrapping his legs around Minseok’s waist to pull him deeper, tighter.
Junmyeon scratched lines of red down Minseok’s back as he came, gasping against Minseok’s lips as their kisses turned sloppy and urgent, Minseok a few moments behind Junmyeon in finding his release.
Junmyeon was boneless beneath him, his hands running up and down Minseok’s sides in lazy strokes as Minseok lay on top of him, both recovering their breath between lazy kisses that didn’t have a purpose other than to feel good. They would have to clean up in a minute, get up and into a shower as they got ready to face the day, but not yet.
“Good morning,” Minseok said into the skin behind Junmyeon’s ear, feeling the soft down of his hair tickling his lips. “I love you.”
Junmyeon hummed, rolling them over onto their sides but keeping Minseok pinned against his chest. “I love you too.” He kissed Minseok deeply, slowly, with love. “So, so much.”
Yeah, this was definitely his favorite way to wake up.
When they finally stumbled into the kitchen to get some food, Jongdae was sitting at the island in the middle of the room eating lunch. He looked at the clock and then back at them with a judgmental look.
Minseok shot a glare in his direction, warning Jongdae off before he could start.
“Have you seen Baekhyun this morning?” Junmyeon asked, sifting through the fridge for a water bottle that he tossed to Minseok before pulling leftover gimbap out for lunch.
Jongdae raised an eyebrow. “You mean this afternoon?” he hummed into his ramen, and Minseok resisted the urge to freeze his ramen solid. “I haven’t seen him around yet.”
Junmyeon grabbed a pair of chopsticks from a drawer and began to eat, occasionally holding out pieces for Minseok.
Jongdae scrunched up his nose at the display, but another look from Minseok kept him quiet.
“Hey everyone!” Baekhyun shouted, running into the kitchen at top speed and skidding to a stop on socked feet. “Look what I can do!”
Minseok and Junmyeon shared a tired look and turned to face a very excited Baekhyun, who proceeded to wink at them before disappearing from sight.
“What the fuck?” Jongdae screeched, looking around in confusion. “How powerful is that kid?”
“‘m not a kid!” Baekhyun said indignantly, his mouth full of gimbap as he reappeared right next to Junmyeon. “I’m fully grown.”
“I’m glad you showed up, Baekhyun,” Junmyeon said, pulling the gimbap out of Baekhyun’s reach and placing a hand on his shoulder to keep him in one spot. “I’ve got a job for you.”
“More training?” Baekhyun looks at him eagerly, practically vibrating with excitement.
“Sort of. I want you to scry your friends in China. It’s time we talked with them.”
Baekhyun stilled and made a face. “I…don’t know if I’ll be able to project all of our images to them. You want me to try it, so they can see all four of us?”
Minseok shared a look with Jongdae, both eating slowly as they watched the conversation unfold.
Junmyeon nodded. “Minseok and Jongdae speak Chinese, so if we want to get anywhere productive we’ll all need to be able to talk and be seen. Do you think you can do it?”
Baekhyun chewed his bottom lip in thought. “I can try!”
“Good.” Junmyeon nodded decisively. “Let’s do it in the great room. Seok, can you get the large mirror from the library and meet us there?”
Minseok nodded and finished off the last of his water, popping in one last bite of gimbap before heading to the library for the mirror Junmyeon was talking about. It was a heavy thing, but he managed to get it off the wall and to the great room without much struggle, only panting slightly as he leaned it against the back of an armchair.
“What is that monstrosity?” Jongdae asked, looking at the mirror in disbelief. “It looks big enough to reflect an entire room.”
It was a large mirror, although not as big as Jongdae made it sound. Definitely large enough for the four of them to fit in the thick brown frame if they got cozy.
Junmyeon appeared with Baekhyun in tow. “Alright Baekhyun, here’s your mirror.”
Baekhyun approached, looking at the mirror before plopping down on the thick grey rug beneath him to sit in front of it. “Everyone sit by me, and make sure you’re touching me. I’m not sure how this is going to work, but I think it will be easier if you’re touching me.”
Minseok and Junmyeon looked at each other before sitting down next to Baekhyun. Jongdae, rather than sitting, laid himself out on the floor and rested his head in Baekhyun’s lap, closing his eyes. Junmyeon rolled his eyes at Jongdae before scooting slightly behind Baekhyun so that Minseok could sit on Baekhyun’s left. They linked hands and rested them on Baekhyun’s unoccupied thigh.
Baekhyun wiggled a bit, trying to get comfortable. “Everyone ready?”
Minseok and Junmyeon nodded at Baekhyun in the mirror while Jongdae grunted.
“Okay, nobody say anything,” Baekhyun instructed. Minseok watched in fascination as Baekhyun closed his eyes and began to emit a soft, warm glow.
In front of them, the mirror began to ripple like the still surface of a pond after a rock had been dropped in it. After a few moments of this rippling, Minseok’s reflection disappeared and in its place was the interior of a small room, a huddled mass on the bed that must be across from the mirror.
The walls of the room were a boring beige, devoid of any personality except for the bed itself, which was draped in deep blue linens that were currently cocooning someone.
Baekhyun opened his eyes, and Minseok tried not to gasp in alarm.
His eyes were a pure, milky white.
Minseok thought back to when he’d talked to Baekhyun in a mirror and no, he’d definitely had pupils like a normal person, so was this normal? He waved his free hand in front of Baekhyun’s eyes, only to have Baekhyun slap his hand away in annoyance.
“Minseok stop being annoying. We’ve got to wake Yixing up.”
Junmyeon squeezed his hand. “Minseok, can you try saying something in Chinese?”
Baekhyun waved them into silence. “No need.” He took a deep breath. “Yah! Yixing! Wake up!” he yelled it so loudly that Jongdae flinched in his lap.
The blankets on the bed exploded outwards in all directions as—who Minseok presumed was Yixing—sat bolt upright, looking around with a panicked expression before collapsing back onto his bed when he spotted them in the mirror.
Yixing swore violently in Chinese, rubbing his hands through his hair before sitting back up and facing the mirror. He blinked and squinted at the mirror, and Minseok could see him counting them in the mirror and shaking his head in confusion.
“Who are these people?”
Minseok sighed in relief when he could understand Yixing. It had been a few years since he’d needed to use the Chinese he’d learned in university and he’d worried that he’d lost it all.
“I’m Minseok,” he said, hoping he wasn’t butchering the tones too terribly, “and this is Junmyeon. We’re the ones he’s told you about.” On Baekhyun’s other side, Jongdae sat up slowly, careful to maintain physical contact with Baekhyun.
“I’m Jongdae,” he said, his Chinese sounding much more natural than Minseok’s.
Yixing scooted to the foot of his bed, getting larger in the mirror as he smiled a slow, sleepy smile. “Hello,” he said mildly. “I’m Yixing.”
“We have some things to talk about,” Minseok said. Yixing nodded seriously and settled in, gesturing for them to start.
It took a while, but they managed to explain everything that was going on with them: finding Jongdae, Baekhyun, and the relative safety of their current location. Junmyeon, through Minseok, tells them how he’s been training Baekhyun and helping him increase his control.
In exchange, Yixing introduced them to Yifan—who he dragged into the room after disappearing from the frame for a few long seconds—and tells them that they’re in a similar situation. It takes a while, primarily because Minseok and Jongdae have to keep pausing to translate their conversation into Korean for Baekhyun and Junmyeon, or Yifan to translate for Yixing when they switch to Korean by accident.
“Although,” Yifan explained, “there’s an organization here whose primary task is to find people like us and lock us up for the public’s safety.” He and Yixing shared a look that was heavy with something Minseok couldn’t interpret.
Baekhyun narrowed his eyes. “I don’t care how dangerous it is,” he said in Korean, Yifan hastily translating for Yixing, “I’m coming to see both of you next week.”
Minseok shot a look at Junmyeon. Baekhyun had talked about going to China ever since he came to stay with them, but he seemed determined to go, and Minseok got the feeling none of them would be able to stop him.
“You can’t stop me—I already bought my ticket.” Baekhyun turned slightly to face Minseok, his white eyes jarring. “Will you take me to the airport, by the way? My flight leaves two days from now.”
In the mirror, Yixing choked and Yifan made a pained expression. “I guess we’ll get our couch ready for you,” Yifan muttered in Chinese.
“Baekhyun what the fuck?” Jongdae asked, giving Baekhyun an incredulous look. “You can’t just go to China.”
Baekhyun shrugged. “Well, I am.” He gazed directly at Yixing. “I need to meet them.”
Minseok only saw it because he happened to be looking at Yixing when Baekhyun said it, but he saw the way Yixing shuddered and the goosebumps that broke out on his skin.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Minseok froze, before turning slowly and wincing as he saw Kyungsoo standing in the entry to the great room, staring at the mirror they were all looking into, and a quick glance at the mirror told him that no, Yixing and Yifan could not pass as any of them.
He heard Baekhyun audibly gulp next to him.
“Uh,” Jongdae said to the mirror, “guys we’ll talk to you later. We’ve had a situation come up that we need to take care of.”
“Are those people in the mirror?” Kyungsoo pointed to Yixing and Yifan. “Is he speaking Chinese?”
“I can explain,” Minseok said, feeling the ground fall out from under him. He held out his hands in a calming gesture, distantly hearing Junmyeon instruct Baekhyun to cut off the connection. “Don’t freak out.”
Yixing chewed his bottom lip nervously and watched the arrivals gate.
“What if he gets lost?” he asked an endlessly patient Yifan. “He’ll have trouble reading the signs.”
Yifan sighed for the tenth time since arriving at the airport. “He’s going to be fine, Xing. Calm down.” He placed a hand on Yixing’s shoulder to keep him from bouncing.
Yixing couldn’t explain his nerves. He was normally so unshakable, so calm, but for some reason the thought of having Baekhyun here, in person, was overwhelming and something he was achingly desperate for all at once.
“Oh, I see him,” Yifan said casually, his height making it easier for him to see over the crowd.
Yixing stretched up on his toes, desperate to catch sight of Baekhyun. Suddenly a black head of hair streaked with red bobbed in the oncoming crowd, and Yixing was moving before he was fully aware of what his body was doing.
“Baekhyun!” he called, just to watch Baekhyun’s head swivel in the direction of his voice. He stopped moving forward as the crowd around them parted and Baekhyun’s eyes met his, the full force of his smile driving the air from Yixing’s lungs. Time seemed to slow as they looked at one another for a suspended moment, people passing them by, while Yixing tried to remember what breathing felt like.
In the mirrors Baekhyun had always been bright, handsome and charming. In person, he was devastating. Baekhyun began to walk faster toward Yixing until he was almost jogging, and before Yixing could recover from the full force of Baekhyun’s smile, he had arms around his waist and Baekhyun’s face pressed to the skin of his neck.
Yixing felt something electric and hot shoot down his spine at the contact, a hum of energy spreading through him everywhere he was touching Baekhyun. He was a few inches taller than Baekhyun, just enough that Baekhyun could easily rest his head on Yixing’s shoulder.
“Hi,” Yixing said softly, pulling away slightly so he could speak quietly into Baekhyun’s ear over the dull hum of the airport. He felt Baekhyun shiver in his arms.
Baekhyun pulled back a bit further, so he could look into Yixing’s eyes. “Hi.”
They were nearly nose to nose, and Yixing found himself falling into the warm chocolate of Baekhyun’s eyes. There was a soft glow to him, his skin vibrant and rich, as if someone had turned up the saturation filter on him until he was steeped in color. He was drawn to Baekhyun in a way he couldn’t explain, the desire to touch and hold and never let him go nearly overwhelming.
Yixing reached up to cup Baekhyun’s cheek, relishing the way Baekhyun’s eyelashes fluttered shut and pressed his face into Yixing’s hand. “How was your flight?” Yixing asked in slow Korean, nearly choking as Baekhyun’s lips brushed against the palm of his hand when he nuzzled against it.
Baekhyun looked up at Yixing from under his lashes, and Yixing was so gone for this boy already. “Uneventful.”
Somewhere behind them, Yixing heard Yifan clear his throat. The world crashed in, and Yixing was suddenly aware that they were standing in the middle of arrivals at the airport and people were beginning to notice them. “Come on,” Yixing said, reaching around Baekhyun for his carry-on bag and wrapping an arm around Baekhyun’s waist. “Let’s get you back to our apartment before we talk anymore.”
“What?” Baekhyun asked, his nose scrunching slightly in confusion, and Yixing realized he’d said that in rapid Chinese, too fast for Baekhyun to pick apart.
Yixing shook his head in response, gesturing to where Yifan was waiting for them.
“Oh!” Baekhyun began moving toward Yifan, but never allowing a moment pass where he wasn’t touching Yixing somehow.
Apparently, this need to always be near Baekhyun—to touch, see, feel—wasn’t only something he felt. By all evidence, Baekhyun could feel it too; this inexplicable current pulling them together.
“Hello,” Yifan said politely in Korean, taking Baekhyun’s carry-on from Yixing. “Welcome to Shanghai.”
Baekhyun smiled brightly. “Nice to meet you in person, Yifan,” he said in slow Korean, no doubt for Yixing’s benefit.
He’d been studying more consistently with Yifan between shifts at the hospital ever since Baekhyun’s first appearance, but he wasn’t fully fluent. Still, he was more confident now in the language than he had been a month ago. He had a feeling he would need to know it. When they’d been talking to Minseok and Junmyeon last week they’d made it clear that they wanted Yixing and Yifan to come and join them as soon as they were able, since Korea was safer for people like them.
Yifan led them out of the airport and back to the car, loading Baekhyun’s bag in the trunk and graciously not rolling his eyes when Yixing crawled into the backseat next to Baekhyun. As Yifan began the drive home, Baekhyun’s eyes began to droop and he snuggled against Yixing, resting his head on his shoulder and playing with the fingers of Yixing’s left hand.
Yixing sighed into Baekhyun’s hair, letting his lips brush against the crown of Baekhyun’s head indulgently when he pressed closer. They didn’t talk anymore. Yixing wasn’t sure he could remember how words worked as Baekhyun slowly laced his fingers through Yixing’s and rested their entwined hands on Yixing’s thigh, humming something softly low in his throat.
Yixing met Yifan’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and Yifan didn’t have to say anything for his message to come across loud and clear. Be careful.
Explaining things to Kyungsoo was more difficult than Minseok thought it would be. Not because of his reaction, but because of his lack of a reaction.
Kyungsoo had listened to their explanation, calmly looking between the four of them. Once they were finished, he blinked once, twice, then said, “Okay then.”
Minseok hadn’t seen him since. Between his shifts at the hospital and Kyungsoo’s reclusive habits, Minseok hadn’t had a chance to check in on him.
Minseok took a deep breath and knocked on the door to Kyungsoo’s room. “Kyungsoo? Can we talk?” Minseok could make out the faint sounds of footsteps over carpet before the door swung open and Minseok came face to face with a carefully blank Kyungsoo.
Kyungsoo was completely devoid of emotion, and it worried Minseok because surely, he must feel something? “How are you doing?” he asked, not sure what else to say.
Kyungsoo’s eyes narrowed slightly. “About the loss of my mother? Or about your apparent powers?”
Minseok winced. In the fretting he’d done over Kyungsoo’s reaction over their revelations he’d completely pushed aside the fact that he was also in mourning. Now he looked like a self-absorbed dick. “Both,” he settled on. Better to be candid than have Kyungsoo see through his motives. “We dumped a lot on you the other day, I wanted to check up on you and make sure you were still doing okay. Nobody has seen you in a few days.”
Kyungsoo studied him for what felt like an eternity. Minseok bit his lip as Kyungsoo crossed his arms and settled his weight on one leg. “Listen,” he began, “obviously I’m incredibly grateful for what you’ve given me. I wouldn’t have anywhere to go if you hadn’t taken me in. That said, keep your weird magic shit away from me.”
Minseok opened his mouth to reply, but Kyungsoo cut him off before he could make a sound.
“I honestly don’t care. You can do whatever you want, I’ll stay out of your way. All I ask is that you leave me alone. I’m not ready to be around people right now.” He eyed Minseok. “Can you do that?”
“I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say.”
Kyungsoo shrugged. “I’ve had a few days to think about it.”
“Okay then,” Minseok nodded. If Kyungsoo wasn’t freaking out, then Minseok could breathe a little easier. “Do you need anything, while I’m up here?” he gestured back into the kitchenette. “Are you still good on food? What about clothes? If you need more than what we bought you last week I can have Junmyeon order you some things now that we know your sizes.”
Kyungsoo held up a hand to quiet him. “I’m fine on food. I’ll let Junmyeon know if I need more clothes. He’s the one with blue hair, right?” When Minseok nodded in answer Kyungsoo continued. “Let me know the next time you’re headed into town. I need to find some kind of job.”
“Of course. My next shift is two days from now.”
“How do I do laundry?” Kyungsoo asked after a moment of shared silence.
“Oh, uh, just give it to Junmyeon. He’s faster than a washing machine.” Kyungsoo scrunched up his nose in discomfort, and Minseok wanted to smack himself for making Kyungsoo more uncomfortable after he’d just asked to be left out of it. “Sorry,” he apologized, “but it’s the truth.”
Kyungsoo nodded. “Thank you, Minseok.” His shoulders slumped, and Minseok could almost see the energy drain out of him.
“I’ll leave you alone,” Minseok said, recognizing that Kyungsoo had probably maxed out his tolerance for social interaction for now. “You know where to find me, should you need anything.”
Kyungsoo nodded and quietly shut the door in Minseok’s face.
Minseok lingered for a moment, before turning and leaving the east wing. He would have to trust that Kyungsoo would heal with time.
Yixing loved his job, loved helping his patients, but today he hated every second he had to be at work. Not even Zitao’s sweet smile could brighten his day today because every moment he was at work he wasn’t with Baekhyun and he couldn’t stand it.
It was even more terrifying to feel that way. It didn’t make any sense, the way he gravitated to wherever Baekhyun was until he was close enough to feel the buzz under Baekhyun’s skin that woke something long-dormant within him. He didn’t know what this feeling was or why it was Baekhyun, but he had an idea of someone who might.
On his break, he took his phone from his pocket after finding a secluded bench in the gardens of the hospital to make a call. He entered the number from memory, absently noting as it rang that he’d need to get a new burner phone soon. He’d already had this one for a month.
Yixing felt something settle in his chest. “Hi, it’s me. Yixing.” It’d been a while since he’d last spoken to someone who knew him well, and it felt good.
A soft chuckle. “Hi Yixing. How are you? Safe?”
Yixing echoed her laugh. “I’m safe, Nǎinai. But something has happened and I wanted to ask you what you know about our family.”
“Oh? What’s going on?”
Yixing tried to figure out where to start. Unlike Yifan, Yixing’s family had held power for generations, and while Yixing was the strongest in his family for decades, the Zhang family was still rich in history. “Have you known anyone in our family who has been…drawn to someone else? In a way they can’t explain?”
His grandmother made a humming noise. “Is this happening to you?” she asked shrewdly. Yixing never could hide anything from her.
“Nǎinai, I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s like I can’t help but want to be next to this person all the time. Like there’s a buzz beneath my skin that only quiets when I’m next to them.”
There was a rustle on the other end of the line, like his grandmother was rifling through papers. “Have I ever told you about your father?”
“Many times, Nǎinai. You said he was like me? But he could influence emotions instead of healing people?”
“There has always been power in the Zhang line. You know that. But when your father met your mother, I saw a new kind of power awaken in him.”
Yixing didn’t dare speak. He’d never heard this story before and he was eager to know more.
“He only explained it to me once,” his grandmother continued, “but the way he described the way he felt around your mother was just like what you said. A buzz under his skin whenever he was away from her.” She sighed, the sound staticky through the phone. “It was the same for her, according to what he told me. She also felt the pull toward your father.
“I don’t think I have to tell you about the red string of fate. It’s been a part of our mythology for centuries. And our family has always had power.” She paused, and Yixing finally said something.
“Nǎinai, are you saying that my parents were…soulmates?”
A soft chuckle. “That’s a strong way to put it. I would say that they were fated to meet. I think they decided to fall in love all on their own. Still, it’s clear that they were supposed to meet each other, and I got you out of it, so fate must have some idea what it’s doing.”
“Do you think that because of our power, fate acts more strongly in our lives?”
There was a sort of contemplative silence on the other end of the line. “I’ve never thought about it like that, but you could be right. There’s so much to our power that we don’t understand, even after all these generations, so who am I to definitively say one way or another?”
Yixing rubbed at the crease forming between his eyebrows. “This is both helpful and confusing all at once, Nǎinai.”
His grandmother laughed, full and bright. “Oh, my poor boy. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be of more help. I can tell you that from what you’ve told me, you absolutely should not let this person get away from you. It’s very likely that they’ll play an important role in your life. They’re someone that fate has decided you need in your life.”
Yixing sighed. He had more questions than answers, but at least now he knew that what he felt toward Baekhyun wasn’t just in his head. That something mystical was happening. “Thanks, Nǎinai. This was helpful, and I miss you.”
“I miss you too, my sweet sheep. Stay with Yifan and keep safe. Oh, and Yixing?” she said, just before he hung up.
“Next time, don’t wait so long between calls.”
Yixing promised, before hanging up. He had a lot to think about.
When he returned home, he’d been so consumed with thinking about fate and the way the universe influenced the lives of humans that he’d almost forgotten about the guest staying with him and Yifan until a body collided with his as he was taking his shoes off in the entry.
“You’re back!” Baekhyun said in garbled Chinese, his arms winding around Yixing’s neck as he pressed the entire length of his body against Yixing’s.
Yixing wrapped his arms around Baekhyun’s waist, the beat of his heart steadying as he pulled Baekhyun as close as possible, nosing into the side of Baekhyun’s neck and relishing the feeling of soft skin beneath his lips.
He pulled away, lifting one hand to cup Baekhyun’s face. “I missed you,” he said in careful Korean, studying Baekhyun’s eyes as he spoke. Baekhyun had only been with them for a day, but Yixing was already dreading the moment Baekhyun went back home. In these moments, when he could hold Baekhyun in his arms, he couldn’t imagine how he managed to live all those years without Baekhyun by his side.
It was absolutely insane to feel so connected to someone he barely knew, but when he looked into Baekhyun’s eyes he felt like everything he needed to know was right there for the taking.
Baekhyun bit his bottom lip. “I missed you, too,” Baekhyun said, slowly for Yixing. His fingers played with the hair at the back of Yixing’s neck, making him shiver. “How was work?”
Yixing maneuvered them further into the apartment without letting go of Baekhyun while he answered. “It was fine. I like my…charges? Patients.” He fumbled over his words as he settled on the couch in their living room. Baekhyun sat facing him, straddling his hips as he kept playing with Yixing’s hair. “It was a good day, but I wanted to be with you the whole time.”
A slow smile spread across Baekhyun’s face. “I felt the same.”
Yixing settled his hands on Baekhyun’s hips, fighting to keep from pulling Baekhyun closer and failing miserably, breathing deeply as Baekhyun relaxed against his chest, his head falling to Yixing’s shoulder. “How was your day?” he whispered as Baekhyun sighed into his neck. He fought down a shiver at the feeling of Baekhyun’s breath against his neck.
“Yifan took me to see a few things this morning before he left for work. Then I took a nap while I waited for you to come home.” Baekhyun squeezed his arms around Yixing’s neck. “I can’t stand to be away from you.”
Yixing tightened his grip on Baekhyun’s hips as Baekhyun started to pull away. “I feel the same,” Yixing said, repeating Baekhyun’s words back at him.
Baekhyun shifted slightly, looking up at Yixing from under his lashes. “Why do we feel this way?”
Yixing ran a hand up Baekhyun’s side, fingers lightly trailing up until he was tracing the edge of Baekhyun’s jaw. “I think fate tied us together.” It was the only thing he could think of to explain. He didn’t know if he believed in soulmates, but he did know what he felt around Baekhyun, and he didn’t fight it as Baekhyun closed the distance between them.
Baekhyun pressed his lips gently to Yixing’s, and the world came alive with the simple brush of lips. Color exploded behind his eyelids, and he gasped against Baekhyun’s mouth as warmth rushed down his spine. He used the hand on Baekhyun’s jaw to tilt his head so that he could deepen the kiss, sighing at the feeling of Baekhyun’s lips sliding against his.
Baekhyun’s fingers tightened in his hair as he deepened the kiss, moaning when Baekhyun opened under the brush of Yixing’s tongue against his bottom lip. Yixing got lost in the taste of Baekhyun, the feeling of him in his arms and the way Baekhyun sounded when Yixing tugged gently at his lip with his teeth.
It was easy to let his hands settle on Baekhyun’s waist, to encourage Baekhyun as he started to slowly circle his hips in Yixing’s lap, grinding slowly against him. Yixing slid his hands under Baekhyun’s shirt, shivering when his hands glided up the smooth skin of Baekhyun’s back. Baekhyun moaned against his mouth, melting under the insistent press of Yixing’s lips and tongue.
Baekhyun felt good. Everything about him was exactly what Yixing didn’t know he’d been looking for. Yixing pulled away from Baekhyun’s mouth to bite gently along his jaw, satisfaction curling in his stomach when Baekhyun moaned as he sucked the spot below his ear hard enough to leave a mark. He let his hands brush along Baekhyun’s ribs, feeling the way ridges formed as Baekhyun breathed in and out. He could feel the vitality in him, the way his body thrummed with energy beneath his fingertips, and Yixing had yet to meet a life force as strong as Baekhyun’s.
Baekhyun whined under his breath, pulling Yixing’s lips back to his own to kiss him hungrily. Yixing responded eagerly. There was so much about Baekhyun, so much for Yixing to feel with every touch and glance that he never wanted to stop, and if it weren’t for the sound of Baekhyun’s phone shattering the moment between them, Yixing wasn’t sure he would have stopped until Baekhyun was writhing beneath him.
With a groan, Baekhyun pulled away from Yixing and leaned back to get his phone out of his pocket.
“Hello?” he snapped in Korean.
As close as Yixing was, he could hear the other end of the conversation easily, especially when Baekhyun leaned forward and pressed himself fully against Yixing’s chest, one hand holding the phone to his ear while the other wrapped around Yixing’s back.
“Baekhyun, where the fuck. Are you.”
Baekhyun rolled his hips, getting more comfortable while also brushing against Yixing in a way that made it clear exactly how affected he was by Yixing. “I’m in China, Minseok. You drove me to the airport yourself.”
“Yeah, and nobody has heard from you since. You could have died and we wouldn’t have known.”
Yixing winced at the way Minseok so easily scolded Baekhyun.
“Okay dad, I’m sorry. I’ve been distracted.”
“With what? You know what,” a sigh, “I don’t want to know. I’m glad you’re safe. Is Yixing okay? Are you safe with him?”
Yixing chuckled softly as Baekhyun rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, Minseok. Yixing is great.” Baekhyun paused, and Yixing could feel his heartbeat pick up slightly. His abilities were unique that way, and by touching Baekhyun’s skin he could feel the quiet rush of blood, the speed of his heart.
“Yixing is…amazing,” Baekhyun said finally. “I’m really glad I came.”
“Good. When are you coming home? Junmyeon wants to know.”
Yixing couldn’t help the way his arms tightened reflexively around Baekhyun at the mention of him leaving. The last thing Yixing wanted to do was be separated from Baekhyun right now, and he didn’t know how he was going to manage being apart after this.
“My flight is at the end of the week.”
Yixing tried not to flinch. Four days. He only had four more days with Baekhyun before they were separated for who knew how long.
“Okay. I want regular texts to know you’re still doing okay. Make sure Yifan and Yixing are keeping you safe.”
“Alright, I will. Goodbye, Minseok.” And before Minseok could say anything else, Baekhyun hung up and tossed his phone aside. He settled back so that he could look Yixing in the face. “Now, where were we?”
Yixing only had a moment before Baekhyun’s mouth was back on his, eagerly teasing his lips apart until Baekhyun’s tongue was sweeping through his mouth. Yixing relaxed into the kiss, enjoying the feeling of Baekhyun in his arms and the way Baekhyun’s nails scratched lightly against his skin every time Yixing bit softly at the skin of his neck.
He was careful not to escalate the kiss, keeping it at a heated but comfortable place. As much as he wanted Baekhyun stretched out and moaning beneath him, he wanted more time to get to know him, to learn his quirks and how to make him happy, before things escalated any more.
Time stretched around them like warm taffy as they got lost in one another. After a while, Yixing could feel exhaustion beginning to creep up on Baekhyun. He hummed as Baekhyun sucked a mark into the skin of his clavicle. “Baekhyun, we need to sleep.”
Baekhyun whined against his skin. “I don’t want to sleep. That’s time I don’t have with you.”
Yixing shifted his grip on Baekhyun’s legs so that he was holding him securely to his body to stand up and lift Baekhyun with him. Baekhyun squeaked in surprise and wrapped his arms and legs around Yixing’s body. “Then I’ll just have to sleep with you,” Yixing reasoned. “My bed is better than the couch anyway.”
Baekhyun slapped his shoulder. “I’m not having sex with you right now.”
Yixing shouldered the door of his room open before lightly tossing Baekhyun onto the bed. “I wasn’t suggesting we should. I would rather hold you in my arms until we fall asleep.” He watched in pleasure as Baekhyun blushed a charming shade of rose across his cheeks.
Baekhyun mumbled something under his breath too quickly for Yixing’s limited Korean to catch before he got up and walked into the bathroom. He came out a few moments later wearing an oversized t-shirt for sleep and smelling of mint. He smiled shyly at Yixing before diving under the covers of the bed.
In a desperate act of self-preservation Yixing ducked into the bathroom to change for bed and brush his teeth. Baekhyun adorably sleepy in his bed was a sight he didn’t know would affect him as much as it did and the space to breathe was vital.
He crawled back into bed once he was done and ready for sleep, easily pulling Baekhyun against him and pressing gentle kisses to his face. Every second he spent with Baekhyun increased the energy flowing between them. As he closed his eyes and lost himself to the sensation of Baekhyun’s lips on his, Yixing could see the silver threads tying them together, watching them thrum with feelings and strengthen with every second he spent touching Baekhyun.
He could feel the warmth and affection that Baekhyun was emitting low in his stomach, different from his own feelings but no less real. He tangled their limbs, wove his fingers through Baekhyun’s hair, and fell asleep to the feeling of Baekhyun’s lips on his.
Now that Zitao was living primarily in the present with only occasional lapses of his grip on time, he was noticing something…missing.
It wasn’t the meds they made him take, and there wasn’t anything wrong with his powers, but it felt like there was something he needed, a missing piece to who he was. It was peculiar, and it was ever-present. Luhan’s increasingly intense training sessions in the safety of their room distracted him from dwelling on whatever was causing the dull ache between his ribs, but late at night…
Late at night Zitao lied awake and wondered—for perhaps the first time since being locked up in here—what he was missing out there in the real world. He wondered if it was something, or someone, that made him feel this way, and suddenly he needed to get free so he could figure out what this relentless thrum beneath his skin was about.
When he asked Luhan if he ever felt like a piece of him was missing Luhan gave him a blank look and asked him if he was losing his grip on time again. Whatever this feeling was, he needed to get out of here so that he could chase where it was tugging him to go.
“We need to get out of here,” he said, startling Luhan away from the book he was reading. “As soon as possible.”
Luhan closed his book and looked at Zitao seriously. “Okay.”
Leaving Yixing was the hardest thing Baekhyun had ever had to do in his life. Even now that he was back in Korea, on the subway back to his dorm, all Baekhyun could do was long for Yixing’s arms around him. He’d lingered in Yixing’s arms for as long as possible at the airport, nearly missing his flight home as he demanded ‘just one more’ kiss.
He had never felt this way about anyone, and when Yixing, through Yifan, had explained the concept of soulmates according to Chinese mythology Baekhyun thought he was crazy until he looked inside himself and saw the silver lines of energy connecting him to Yixing. The threads thrummed with energy, the pure light of his magic dancing and weaving through the bond as Yixing’s worry, concern, affection for him all settled into his stomach, separate from his own feelings but there nonetheless.
Even now, in separate countries, Baekhyun could feel Yixing’s longing for him, the way Yixing missed him already, the way their bond connected them to each other. It was a torture and a mercy all at once. Baekhyun could feel Yixing with him, but while Yixing constantly felt within his grasp Baekhyun could feel the distance separating them like it was a palpable thing.
The subway slowed at his stop, and Baekhyun gathered up his things and got off, wearily walking toward his dorm. He was tired. Every spare moment while he was in China was spent with Yixing, and he’d sacrificed a lot of sleep in favor of kissing Yixing, experimenting with the way Yixing’s skin felt beneath his own. But now that he was home…he wanted to sleep for a day and then maybe call Minseok and cry about how much he missed Yixing.
Affection settled warm in his gut as he fumbled his keys out of his backpack to open his room, dropping his carry-on as soon as he was through the door. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to text Minseok that he was safe and home, too preoccupied to notice that his door didn’t click shut behind him.
Hands grabbed at his shoulders and mouth, muffling any sound he could make as he was dragged back toward his door. Panic surged through him, hot and consuming, and his magic burst from him in response as he thrashed in the hold of whoever held him.
He could see the room growing brighter and brighter around him as he struggled and fought, and the last thing he remembered seeing was searing, burning white light.
Then, everything went black.
Chapter 4: pain is just a passing storm
Thank you for your patience while i did a lot of editing and struggled through some truly terrible writers block over the last two months. Here's chapter 4 a little early, even though 7 isn't quite done yet.
Yixing was preparing the medications for the patients in the hospital when he was hit with a sudden, violent rush of panic that wasn’t his own.
“Baekhyun,” he whispered, dread coiling tight in his stomach. He should have been back safe by now, but Yixing could tell that something was desperately, dangerously wrong for Baekhyun to panic so strongly.
He fumbled for his phone in the pocket of his scrubs with shaking hands and scrolled through his contacts, moving past Yifan who was working right now anyway and pressing Minseok’s name in his phone, helpfully added by Baekhyun before he left.
The line rang twice before Minseok picked up.
“Hello?” he asked in Korean.
“Minseok-gē,” Yixing rushed out, too panicked to speak in anything other than Chinese. “Where is Baekhyun, is he with you? Is he safe? What’s wrong?”
“Yixing?” Minseok asked, confusion in his voice. “Slow down,” he commanded in accented Chinese. “What?”
Yixing forced himself to take a deep, steadying breath. “Something is wrong with Baekhyun. He’s in danger. Do you know where he is?”
A sharp inhale. “I haven’t heard from him yet. He was supposed to text me when he got home. I haven’t—”
Yixing felt his own panic rise. “Minseok-gē, what—”
Minseok’s breathless voice came back on the line, his Chinese slightly garbled in his hurry. “Baekhyun is calling me right now, hold on, I’m going to patch him through.”
Yixing gathered his things in the silence as Minseok connected the calls, preparing to head back to his apartment with Yifan. Whatever was happening, he was going to be useless at work now.
“Baekhyun?” came Minseok’s voice suddenly on the phone, and Yixing paused in shrugging on his jacket to listen breathlessly for Baekhyun’s response. During his conversation with Minseok the panic he’d been feeling from Baekhyun had decreased in intensity, but he could still feel it lingering.
“H-hyung,” Baekhyun sobbed, and Yixing wanted to rip his hair out because Baekhyun was hurting, his soulmate was in danger, and he couldn’t do anything about it. “Hyung I’m hurt—I-I don’t know what…”
Baekhyun’s words continued to pour out between pained breaths, but they were too garbled for Yixing to understand, and asking for Minseok to translate right now wasn’t going to help an already chaotic situation. Instead, Yixing left the hospital without telling anyone as he listened to Minseok comforting Baekhyun as he figured out what was going on.
Yixing got into his car and sat, trying to calm his own panic and attempting to send warmth and affection through their bond to Baekhyun to help soothe him.
“I need Yixing,” Baekhyun choked out, the first thing Yixing could clearly understand as Baekhyun calmed slightly.
“I’m coming to you,” he growled, starting his car.
“Yi-Yixing?” Baekhyun gasped.
“No, you’re not,” Minseok commanded. “You’re going to stay in China until we know what happened. Baekhyun, you’re going to tell me where you are and I’m going to come and get you.”
Yixing wanted to argue, but Minseok was right. They needed more information before he did anything rash, and Baekhyun would be safe with Minseok and Junmyeon. He would have to trust that. Besides, there were things he needed to take care of here before he left, like the two boys in room 203.
“Okay,” Yixing said in response to Minseok. Then, to Baekhyun, he said, “hang in there Baekhyun. Stay safe.”
Baekhyun whimpered, and Yixing felt a piece of his heart rip. “Yixing it hurts.”
Yixing bit his cheek hard enough to bleed. “I know, baby. I’ll be there with you as soon as I can. I’ll make it better. I’ll fix it.”
Baekhyun choked on a sob, and beneath that Yixing could hear Minseok getting in a car and starting to drive, leaving the line open so he could talk to Baekhyun.
“I don’t know if you can fix this Yixing,” Baekhyun said after a moment of stuttered breathing. “It’s bad.”
Yixing fought the tears crawling up his throat and forced them aside. He had to be strong for Baekhyun right now. Later, he could fall apart, but right now Baekhyun needed him. He pushed aside his own emotions and focused on sending calm reassurance through their bond. “It’s going to be okay, Baekhyun.”
“Distract me, Yixing.”
Yixing talked about everything and nothing while Minseok drove, the whole time silently urging Minseok to hurry, to rush to Baekhyun’s location as Baekhyun fed him directions to his dorm between Yixing’s talking. He knew the moment Minseok found Baekhyun.
“Oh fuck,” came Minseok’s voice. There was a beep on the line as a call dropped, and Yixing pulled his phone away from his face in a panic, but he and Minseok were still connected. Baekhyun’s line had dropped from the call but Minseok’s was open.
Baekhyun’s voice sounded more distant but cleared up as Minseok walked closer. Yixing hated this, of hearing everything but not being able to do anything. “Minseok, give your phone to Baekhyun,” he demanded, sighing as Baekhyun’s voice came through again, just in time for him to hear the most terrifying thing yet.
“Hyung, where are you?” Baekhyun asked tearfully. “I can’t see you.”
“Baekhyun what do you mean, I’m right here?”
Yixing could make out a rustling sound, and then Minseok said, “Shit, fuck, shit, Baek, your eyes. Oh fuck. I’m taking you to a hospital.”
There was a crackling sound and then Minseok’s voice came through clear over the line. “Yixing I’m so sorry but I have to hang up now. I need to get Baekhyun to a hospital. Junmyeon and I will call you later tonight once Baekhyun is taken care of.”
And before Yixing could protest, the line clicked, dead.
“Junmyeon,” Minseok yelled, helping a stumbling Baekhyun into the house. Baekhyun had a death grip on Minseok’s arm, and he could feel his already cold fingers getting even colder as he lost circulation. “Junmyeon, I need you!”
“What’s wrong?” Jongdae came sliding across the tile of the foyer as he ran to Minseok from the west wing. “What happen—is that Baekhyun? Oh damn, what happened?” He hovered anxiously around Minseok and Baekhyun as he took in Baekhyun’s injuries.
Kyungsoo appeared in the foyer right behind Jongdae, although at a much slower pace, and if Minseok weren’t so busy trying to keep Baekhyun calm and the situation under control he might have raised an eyebrow at the way Kyungsoo hovered closely next to Jongdae.
“Minnie?” Junmyeon called, coming up the stairs from the basement, his hair wet and sticking to his forehead instead of swept away like it normally was. “What’s wrong—oh.” He rushed to Minseok’s side, quickly reaching out for Baekhyun.
“Wait!” Minseok called a second too late, quickly closing his eyes when bright light flashed through the room as Baekhyun flinched away from Junmyeon’s touch.
It was like a flash grenade going off in their foyer.
“Fuck, my eyes!” Jongdae yelped. “Baekhyun, what the fuck.”
“I’m sorry!” Baekhyun cried, tears starting to fall from his eyes. “I’m really on edge right now.”
“He was attacked,” Minseok explained quickly. “Almost as soon as he got back to his dorm he was attacked.”
Junmyeon went pale. “By who?”
Minseok shook his head minutely and understanding flickered across Junmyeon’s face.
“Okay, let’s get you to your room, Baekhyun.” Junmyeon moved to the other side of Baekhyun and helped Minseok lead him up the stairs to his room in the west wing, Kyungsoo and Jongdae following silently behind them.
Minseok and Junmyeon carefully tucked Baekhyun into his bed, stroking his hair soothingly until the pain meds the doctors had given him kicked in and he fell asleep.
Once he was sleeping soundly Minseok ushered everyone out of his room and into the sitting room directly outside. Junmyeon took a seat in one of the armchairs while Jongdae and Kyungsoo sat opposite him on the lounge bench along the windows. Instead of sitting in one of the other armchairs, Minseok crawled into Junmyeon’s lap and buried his face in Junmyeon’s neck, breathing in his clean scent and letting his emotions settle.
“Minseok,” Junmyeon said quietly, “what happened to Baekhyun?”
Minseok shook his head, remembering everything the doctors had told him at the hospital after tending to Baekhyun’s injuries. His hands began to shake, and Junmyeon wrapped his arms more tightly around Minseok’s waist and waited patiently.
“It was Yixing, who knew first,” Minseok began, recalling the way he’d answered his phone just after finishing his shift at the hospital. “He was panicking and saying something about Baekhyun, asking if I’d heard from him. While I was on the line with Yixing, Baekhyun called so I patched him through into a three-way call.
“It was bad. Baekhyun was crying, terrified, and clearly in pain. I made him give me his address and drove to him while Yixing did his best to soothe Baekhyun over the phone and keep him calm.” He paused, leaning away from Junmyeon’s chest to speak more clearly. “When I got there, Baekhyun was on the floor with several other men around him. All of them were unconscious, and it looked like they’d been out in the sun for hours. Their skin was so badly burned I could see it blistering.
“But Baekhyun,” he trailed off, not continuing until Junmyeon gently ran his hand up and down his back to bring him out of his memory. “Baekhyun was curled up on the floor, and his eyes were staring but I could already tell he couldn’t see.” Minseok shuddered. “On the way to the hospital I got him to tell me what had happened. He didn’t remember much, only that he’d been grabbed and he felt his power surge before everything went white, then black.” Minseok shrugged. “He also has a spiral fracture in his wrist—no doubt from when they grabbed him—and a concussion, some bruised ribs.”
“Fuck,” Jongdae said, once it was clear Minseok was finished.
Kyungsoo stood up without a word and walked down the hall towards the library, his shoulders hunched.
“I need to call Yixing,” Minseok said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I promised I would, and he must be going crazy.”
Junmyeon pulled his phone from his grasp. “You’re going to go to bed. I’ll call Yixing. You need some rest.”
Jongdae came over and helped Minseok off Junmyeon’s lap. “Come on, I’ll get you to your room.”
Minseok looped his arm around Jongdae’s shoulder and leaned heavily on him, the events of the last few hours catching up with him all at once. “Thanks, Dae. Come to bed soon, Junmyeon.”
Junmyeon gave him a tight smile and stood to drop a kiss to Minseok’s cheek. “I will.”
After Minseok had hung up on him Yixing had somehow managed to drive himself home, convincing himself not to worry when the steady stream of panic and fear from Baekhyun became muted and quiet, until all Yixing could feel from Baekhyun was a sort of sleepy calm that felt medicated. But by the time Yifan got home from work, Yixing had managed to work himself into such a state that all he could do was lie on the floor as small tremors of panic shook through his body.
Yifan was making them a dinner Yixing wasn’t hungry for when his phone rang. Yixing yelped and nearly dropped the device in his haste to answer it.
Yifan tilted his head in Yixing’s direction and Yixing put the phone on speaker so that Yifan could listen in more easily.
“Yixing?” It wasn’t Minseok, but someone else. “This is Jongdae and Junmyeon.”
“Where’s Minseok and Baekhyun? Are they okay?”
There was a sigh. “Slow down, Yixing,” Jongdae said. “My Chinese isn’t good enough to understand you when you’re talking that fast. Baekhyun and Minseok are both here now. Baekhyun is sleeping and I think Minseok is too. But Yixing,” Jongdae hesitated, and Yixing’s stomach sank through the floor as apprehension and dread rushed through him. “Baekhyun is hurt, badly.”
Yixing felt his legs give out from under him and Yifan scrambled to catch him. “What?”
Jongdae cleared his throat. “Baekhyun can’t see, and he has a few other injuries.”
“What happened?” Yifan demanded.
Jongdae, with occasional help from Junmyeon, recounted the story. With every word Yixing felt worse and worse, guilt and worry colliding in him violently. He was supposed to protect Baekhyun, keep him safe, and he’d failed.
Yifan shook him to get his attention. “Did you hear what Junmyeon said? He was attacked by a couple men in suits. Minseok saw them when he found Baekhyun.”
It was a good thing Yifan had a strong hold on him already because Yixing lost any remaining strength in his legs as he shared a terrified look with Yifan. “They knew he’d been with us. Yifan, they must have followed him out of China.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Jongdae asked, confusion in his voice.
“Yixing we need to get out of here. Are the two you’ve been watching safe to transfer yet?” Yifan asked, ignoring Jongdae completely.
“What two?” Jongdae asked, confused.
Through sheer force of will, Yixing forced himself to focus on the problem at hand and not on his failure to protect his newly found soulmate. He knew he shouldn’t have let Baekhyun leave. “I think I can get them out, if I’m careful. We’ll need papers to get them out of the country though,” he said, clinging to Yifan as he struggled to support his own weight.
Yifan nodded. “Jongdae,” he said into the phone, “I hope wherever you guys are, you can handle four more people by tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night?” Junmyeon screeched in the background of the call. “How on earth can you possibly be ready that quickly?”
Yifan tugged Yixing out of the kitchen and into his bedroom, helping Yixing to gather up his clothes as he switched into Korean to explain things to Junmyeon. “Yixing and I have always known we would need to be able to leave suddenly, with very little warning. We’ve been prepared for this day for years now.”
“Why?” Jongdae asked.
Yixing and Yifan shared a look as they shoved clothes into his bag. “We’ve been lying low in China,” Yifan explained, “because it’s dangerous for us to be out in the open. We’re always ready to run, and now that Yixing is sure he can get the two others like us out there’s no better time for us to leave.”
“You’re going to explain everything when you get here,” Junmyeon demanded, not waiting for Jongdae to translate, but Yixing could understand just fine.
“Jongdae, we need to go now,” Yixing said, trying to decide which of his belongings to take in the limited space he had. “We’ll call you again once we’re safe and at the gate. We have a lot to do before then.”
“Be safe,” was all Jongdae said before hanging up the phone.
Yixing turned to Yifan and they shared a long, desperate look before leaping into motion.
Zitao became aware that something was wrong slowly, and in increments, as he pulled himself from sleep.
It was early, earlier than anyone ever came into their room for any reason, and all at once Zitao was awake because there was somebody in their room.
Luhan was still asleep in the bed across the room, and Zitao held very, very still, afraid to move for some reason. The shadowy figure stepped further into the room, moving to Luhan’s bed first. Before Zitao could do anything, the person put a hand over Luhan’s mouth and gently shook him awake, holding Luhan still until he stopped panicking once he was awake.
“We have to leave, stay quiet,” the figure said, and Zitao sat up in bed because that sounded a lot like—
“Yixing?” he whispered.
Yixing turned around to look at him, raising a hand to his lips to signal quiet. “Both of you follow me. Act normal, and don’t speak.”
Zitao shared a panicked look with Luhan in the dim light of their room.
“Now,” Yixing commanded, tugging them both out of their beds. “We don’t have much time.”
Zitao reached out for Luhan, linking their fingers as Yixing opened the door to their room. They were both dressed in the white shirt and loose pants that the facility dressed them in, their feet bare, but neither of them took time to grab anything when Yixing was motioning for them to step outside of their room.
Zitao tightened his hand in Luhan’s as they stepped into the fluorescent light of the hallway, sticking close to Yixing as he walked calmly down the hall. It was early enough that the halls were empty, and Zitao was too nervous to notice the way Yixing was leading them into areas of the facility he’d never seen before.
They weren’t in the patient wing anymore, and before Zitao could think about why that was, Yixing was ushering them quickly through a door and suddenly Zitao could feel the chill air of early morning on his face as they stepped into a parking lot.
He was outside, without walls keeping him in, for the first time in years.
“Quickly, boys,” Yixing urged, pushing them toward an idling car.
Before Zitao could really register what was happening, he and Luhan were in a car, and he turned to watch the place that had been his prison for the last few years slip away in the cityscape of Shanghai.
“Who the fuck are you?” Luhan asked, curling up in the seat to make himself smaller as his gaze darted between Yixing in the passenger seat and the man driving the car.
Zitao snapped his attention back to what was happening and yeah, they’d just been kidnapped by Yixing, what the fuck?
“Luhan, I’m Yixing, you know who I am. This is Yifan, and we’re rescuing you and taking you out of China.”
“You’re what?” Luhan screeched, one of his hands reaching out to hold on to Zitao and pull him closer for comfort. “Where are we going? How?”
Yixing turned around in his seat to look at them while he calmly explained. “Yifan and I have new passports for the both of you, new identities to get you both safely out of China and away from danger. Our flight leaves in four hours, and we’re going to the airport now.” He gestured to the floor of the car at their feet, straining against his seatbelt. “There’s new clothes in the bag down there that should fit. Change now, before we get to the airport.”
Zitao’s breath caught in his throat. “We’re…free?”
Yixing gave him a gentle smile. “Yes, Taozi. I’ll do everything I can to make sure neither of you are ever locked up again.”
“Why should we trust you?” Luhan asked, suspicion thick in his voice. “You just kidnapped us.”
“You don’t have a choice,” said Yifan, speaking for the first time. He eyed them in the rearview mirror. “But I promise, we’ll keep you both safe. We know you aren’t crazy.”
Luhan and Zitao traded a wary glance.
“What do you mean?” Zitao asked hesitantly. “We were patients in a long-term facility for the mentally ill. Of course we’re crazy.”
Yixing gave him another gentle look. “We know you both have powers. That’s why we’re getting you out of China and to people like us.”
“Us?” Luhan raised an eyebrow. He was always faster on the uptake than Zitao.
Yifan chuckled softly. “Yixing can heal, while I can fly and control fire, if I’m really trying.”
Zitao’s jaw dropped.
“What?” Luhan choked.
“We promise that we’ll have plenty of time to talk once we get to the airport. But I need both of you to change, quickly please. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Luhan and Zitao exchanged an incredulous look, before doing exactly what Yixing said.
Minseok was woken by his phone ringing far too early for him to be okay with it.
“What,” he snapped, already grumpy.
“We’re at the airport,” Yixing said in Chinese, immediately jolting Minseok wide awake.
“Already?” He sat up in bed, dislodging Junmyeon’s arm from around his hips. “This early?” He struggled to switch to Chinese, his brain fighting through the fog of sleep.
“We wanted to get out as soon as possible and getting them out was easier than I expected. We’re waiting for our flight to board. Can you pick us up in four hours at Gimpo?”
“Uh,” Minseok paused, willing his brain to catch up with Yixing’s rapid-fire Chinese. “Text me your arrival time, but yeah. I can.”
“Great.” The low hum of noise from the airport rose to the foreground as Yixing paused, then, “How’s Baekhyun?”
Minseok sighed, flopping back on the bed and relaxing as Junmyeon pressed close to him, tugging Minseok snug to his chest. “He’s been asleep all night. I’ve been keeping him medicated so that he doesn’t wake up. It’s probably best for now until you’re here, and since you’ll be here in a few hours he’ll be fine.”
Yixing breathed out in relief, like he’d been holding his breath. “Thank you, Minseok. See you in a few hours.”
The line clicked off, and Minseok set an alarm for two hours later and set his phone back on the nightstand before rolling over to press his face to the warm skin of Junmyeon’s neck.
“Everything good?” Junmyeon mumbled, mostly asleep.
Minseok kissed him softly against the underside of his jaw. “Yeah, baby. Let’s go back to sleep.”
Junmyeon hummed and secured his arms around Minseok’s waist, tangling their legs as he shifted to get comfortable.
Minseok was asleep again within moments, the clean, fresh scent of Junmyeon lulling him under.
Baekhyun became conscious in slow increments, slowly wading his way up into wakefulness and shedding sleep layer by layer.
As he did, he became aware of several things at once. His body hurt, but not nearly as much as last night when he’d gone to sleep. There was an IV in his arm, he could feel it taped to his forearm, itchy against his skin. His power was swirling bright inside him, clear and pure and vibrant when he investigated the deep pool of it within himself.
There was something warm pressed against his back, a hand entwined with his somewhere in front of his face. His head was half on a plush, clean-smelling pillow, and half pressed to smooth silky skin. He must be laying on someone’s arm, but who?
Another look within himself showed the bond he’d discovered the moment his eyes locked with Yixing’s at the airport in China. The strong, silver threads reaching back to something behind him. But that couldn’t be right because Yixing was still in China, unless…
With a gasp, Baekhyun opened his eyes, only for the last detail to click into place as all he saw was darkness.
“Baekhyun? Are you awake?”
It was Yixing, Baekhyun knew it immediately. Everything within him brightened in joy, singing as he rolled over to face Yixing. “Yixing, how—why?”
Yixing raised his other hand to cup Baekhyun’s cheek gently, and Baekhyun fought away the flinch that came with the unexpected touch because this was his soulmate, Yixing. He leaned his face into Yixing’s palm in silent apology.
“I came as fast as I could, as soon as I heard.” A choked sound. “I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there to protect you. I should have been there.”
Baekhyun reached out, his fingers encountering the firm width of Yixing’s chest and working his way up the smooth column of his neck, his jaw, until his fingers were tracing over the planes of Yixing’s face, brushing away the wetness against his cheekbones. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.” He wrapped an arm around Yixing’s waist, tugging him closer only to stop when Yixing whimpered in pain. “Are you hurt?”
“Just a little tender. I’m healing your ribs while we lie here.”
Hope fluttered between Baekhyun’s ribs, a yellow canary trapped in a cage at the bottom of a mine called despair. “Can…can you heal my eyes?”
Baekhyun couldn’t see the expression on Yixing’s face, but he didn’t have to. The silence said enough. Yixing’s helplessness swirled cold and bitter inside him, their bond letting him feel Yixing’s strongest emotions.
Yixing’s arms came around him, one hand cradling the back of his head while the other wrapped around his waist. “I’m so sorry, Baekhyun. I’m too late. Maybe—maybe with time and enough effort I can get something back but…” he trailed off, out of words. The canary between his ribs fell silent, no air left to sing with.
Baekhyun nodded. He could live without his sight. He had enough inner light to not feel like he was constantly in darkness, but he wasn’t sure he could live with never seeing Yixing’s face again. “Yixing, can you do something for me?”
Lips pressed against his forehead. “Anything.”
Baekhyun poured as much warmth and comfort into their bond, determined to soothe Yixing’s swirling emotions. “Kiss me. Help me memorize you before I forget.”
Yixing gently pressed his lips to Baekhyun’s, giving him time to adjust to the sensation of lips he couldn’t see coming. The second their lips came in contact though, Baekhyun could pretend that this was a kiss like any other, and as Yixing gently coaxed his lips apart Baekhyun could see him, his power reaching out and swirling around Yixing, seeking out Baekhyun’s other half.
As Yixing slowly traced over the back of Baekhyun’s teeth with his tongue, Baekhyun’s light surrounded Yixing, showing Baekhyun the shape of Yixing in his mind like a photograph taken in negative light, Yixing’s features softly glowing against the darkness of Baekhyun’s eyes.
Baekhyun gasped against Yixing’s lips, kissing him deeper, suddenly desperate for everything Yixing could give him, knotting his fingers into the strands of hair against Yixing’s neck that were just as soft as he remembered. The kiss was slow and deep, with no other purpose than re-learning each other like they’d been apart for weeks instead of just two days.
But what an eventful two days it had been.
After a while, Yixing slowly began to wind down the kiss until it was light and soft, the barest brush of their lips together. “Take it easy,” he said gently when Baekhyun whined against him, squirming to get closer. “You’ve been through a lot, and we have time.”
Baekhyun wanted to argue, wanted to pull Yixing on top of him and demand more, but another part of him recognized that he was still tired, and he probably needed to deal with the whole not-being-able-to-see thing.
Yeah, Yixing was right.
“Take care of me?” Baekhyun whispered, feeling pitiful.
Yixing tucked Baekhyun’s head beneath his chin, one hand around his hips and the other at the back of his head, cradling him against his chest. “Always, xiao yang.” He whispered something else against Baekhyun’s forehead in Chinese that he didn’t understand, but it sounded soft. He made a note to ask Yifan about it later, if he could remember it.
The was a knock on Baekhyun’s door, making him jump in Yixing’s hold in surprise, and a voice he recognized as Junmyeon asked, “How is he?”
“I’m fine, Junmyeon,” Baekhyun sighed into Yixing’s neck. “Sore and tired, but I’m okay.” His power pulsed within him, a small part of it reaching out for Junmyeon and outlining him so that Baekhyun could see the hazy lines of his body, like a lens out of focus.
His posture—what Baekhyun could see of it—was clearly worried.
“Stop frowning,” Baekhyun admonished, not moving his face from Yixing’s neck and taking a guess as to his expression. Having known Junmyeon these last few weeks, he felt like he could see the crease-lines on his face, even if he couldn’t. “You’ll get wrinkles.”
Junmyeon’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Baekhyun, can you see me?”
Baekhyun sighed and sat up, reluctantly pulling out of Yixing’s hold. “No,” he said slowly, like Junmyeon was very dumb. “I’m blind, remember?” He felt Yixing shift behind him, and a pair of arms wrapped around his waist from behind, drawing him back against Yixing’s chest.
Baekhyun shrugged. “My power? I think? It’s doing this thing where it sort of…outlines the things around me so that I can see them in my mind’s eye?” He shrugged. “It looks like a photo taken in negative, kinda. But more sparkly.”
“I’m going to talk to you more about this when you’re feeling better.” Junmyeon leaned against the doorframe, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But for now, do you want some food?”
Baekhyun sagged against Yixing. “Yes. I’m starving, actually.” He’d been ignoring it because kissing Yixing was way better than eating.
Junmyeon nodded. It was weird to see all these gestures and expressions in negative, but it was better than the eternal darkness Baekhyun would be stuck with otherwise. “Dinner’s ready in the kitchen.”
Baekhyun moved to the edge of the bed and waited for Yixing to remove the IV from his arm before carefully standing up, Yixing’s hands in his to steady him. He made it all of one step before his legs gave out on him, and before he could even make a sound Yixing was wrapping Baekhyun’s arms around his neck and lifting him off the ground. Baekhyun wound his legs around Yixing’s torso out of instinct, squeaking when Yixing brushed a kiss to the side of his head and wrapped his arms under Baekhyun’s thighs.
A snort of laughter came from somewhere around Junmyeon, but Baekhyun was too busy outlining every bit of Yixing in light so he could see him to care about what Junmyeon was doing. For some reason his light was drawn to Yixing, like it wanted to show Baekhyun every possible detail, and it made it easier for him to see Yixing.
As they moved through the house, Baekhyun’s power highlighted the biggest features of the house. The banister of the stairs as Yixing carried him down, the walls of the hallways they walked through, doorways into different rooms. It was fascinating and overwhelming all at once. Baekhyun reeled his power back until all he could see was Yixing and immediately felt better.
Soft voices reached his ears as they drew close to the kitchen. He could pick out Yifan’s even tones mixed with the bright laughter of Jongdae.
“Look who’s up,” Junmyeon said fondly, somewhere ahead of him and Yixing.
“Baekhyun!” Jongdae screeched, and Baekhyun could hear the scrape of a chair as it was pushed out, and then another pair of hands were on his back.
Baekhyun flinched into Yixing, taken by surprise.
“Oh, sorry Baekhyun,” Jongdae said quietly, a contrast to his excitement a second ago.
“It’s okay,” Baekhyun said, taking a deep, bracing breath and burying his face in Yixing’s neck as he let his power spread through the room.
The sudden influx of information was enough to make him shudder in Yixing’s grasp as the room took shape in his mind. He focused on keeping his breathing steady and even while he tried to process through everything he could now see.
“What’s he doing?” Minseok asked. He was hugging Junmyeon from behind, his head on Junmyeon’s shoulder as he watched Baekhyun with concern. “He’s glowing.”
Baekhyun could feel Yixing’s confused shrug. Whether he was confused over why Baekhyun was apparently glowing or what Minseok said he wasn’t sure, but Baekhyun clung tighter to him, needing the comfort.
Yixing slowly released Baekhyun’s legs in favor of wrapping his arms around Baekhyun’s back and rubbing soothing patterns up and down. Baekhyun slowly unwound his legs from Yixing’s waist until he was standing mostly on his own, his arms still around Yixing’s neck.
“He’s seeing,” Junmyeon finally whispered, answering Minseok’s question.
“You can see?” Jongdae asked, and Baekhyun could see him as he slowly moved behind Yixing to look at Baekhyun’s face. “Woah, your eyes are blue.”
“And you’re still scarred, but you don’t hear me saying it,” Baekhyun said just to be a brat, blinking at Jongdae. He hadn’t know that his eyes were blue now. It was a strange thought. Although he could be okay with blue eyes.
Jongdae blinked at him in shock before laughing. “Glad to see you’re still the same Baekhyun.”
“Of course I am,” Baekhyun said, finally dropping his arms from around Yixing’s neck and turning around to face the room. He saw someone sitting at the table that he didn’t recognize. Wait, make that two.
“Who’re they?” he asked, pointing directly at the men sitting on either side of Yifan. One was tiny in comparison to Yifan, and his eyes widened in surprise when Baekhyun pointed at him.
“Oh!” Minseok exclaimed. “Do you not remember Kyungsoo?”
Ah, so that was Kyungsoo. Baekhyun hummed in response, taking a moment to learn the shape of his face so that he’d recognize him next time. “Nice to meet you again, I guess. I’m Baekhyun, and if you haven’t already heard I blinded myself with my own power like an idiot.”
Yixing made a sort of tutting noise behind him and squeezed his arms around Baekhyun’s waist tighter, pressing a kiss behind his ear.
“You’re not an idiot, Baekhyun,” Minseok chided gently.
Kyungsoo shrugged at him nonchalantly. “It’s okay. I was too weak to save my mom three weeks ago and she died.”
Baekhyun choked on air, and the room went quiet enough that Baekhyun was fairly certain nobody was breathing. Yifan was looking at Kyungsoo like he’d grown a pair of horns and maybe a tail too.
“Wow, I did not know that,” Baekhyun finally managed. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Kyungsoo nodded but didn’t say anything else.
“This is Zitao,” Yifan said, drawing Baekhyun’s attention to the other person he didn’t know. “We brought him and Luhan with us from China, but Luhan is sleeping right now.”
“Nice to meet you,” Baekhyun said in Chinese, assuming Zitao’s Korean wasn’t the greatest. Zitao had the presence and carriage of a jungle cat, at least that was Baekhyun’s impression of him. His eyes were narrow and piercing, his features soft and angular with a barely-there layer of baby fat clinging to them still. He didn’t look a day over eighteen.
Zitao merely nodded at him before going back to his food, by all appearances checking out of the conversation.
“Someone get me some food,” Baekhyun said. “I’m starving.
Jongin woke slowly. He was warm and blissfully comfortable. Last night had been a long shift and he’d fallen into bed and fallen asleep the second his head hit his pillow.
But now he was waking. He could feel the warm weight of Taemin’s arm around his waist, the gentle rise and fall of his chest against Jongin’s back as he slept peacefully. Jongin stretched slowly, letting his limbs wake up.
Without opening his eyes, Jongin rolled over and snuggled closer to Taemin, pressing his lips to the hollow of Taemin’s throat, starting to suck gentle marks into the skin there. Taemin’s arm tightened around him, pulling him closer in his sleep, and Jongin bit down gently on the skin beneath his lips, intent on leaving a visible mark.
Taemin breathed deeply, coming out of sleep, and then suddenly went rigid under Jongin’s lips. Taemin yelled in surprise, and Jongin’s eyes flew open because that was not Taemin’s voice.
He looked up and the face in front of him was not Taemin’s. It was someone he’d never seen before. He swiftly glanced around. He didn’t recognize the room he was in, which meant he’d somehow managed to teleport in his sleep, what the fuck.
“I’m so sorry,” Jongin said, panicked, scooting back on the bed and putting some distance between himself and the stranger.
His apology was met with wide, confused eyes and a tilted head. The man said something in Chinese, a language Jongin could recognize but definitely couldn’t speak. Where was he?
Before the situation could get any worse, Jongin leapt out of the bed and sprinted for the door. He had to get back home. As he stepped through the doorway he focused on his bedroom, picturing it clearly in his mind and pushing himself there.
He blinked and found himself back in his bedroom. Taemin was asleep in their bed, the top of his silver head just visible under the mass of blankets wrapped around him. He stirred slightly at the crack from Jongin’s appearance and slowly sat up. He pushed the blankets away from himself and rubbed at his eyes, yawning.
“Babe?” he asked around a yawn. “What are you doing up?” He blinked blearily at the clock on their nightstand. “It’s seven in the morning. Come back to bed.”
Jongin dove for Taemin’s arms, gathering him up and clinging to him tightly as he pressed Taemin into the sheets beneath them.
“Woah,” Taemin said, his arms slowly coming around Jongin. “What’s wrong, Nini? Talk to me.”
Jongin shook his head, not knowing where to start, small tremors wracking him. Taemin ran his fingers soothingly through Jongin’s hair, waiting for him to calm down.
“I woke up somewhere else,” Jongin finally whispered, breathing in the familiar scent of Taemin’s skin, warm from sleep. “In someone else’s arms. And I don’t know how I got there.”
Taemin stiffened in his arms. “What?”
Jongin tried not to shake apart. “I don’t know. Somehow I teleported? In my sleep?” He clung to Taemin as tightly as he could. “I came back as soon as I woke up and realized.”
“Did they see you?” Taemin asked in a strained voice. Jongin loosened his grip on Taemin, letting him breathe easier.
Jongin nodded. “I don’t think they were Korean. They spoke Chinese to me.”
“You went to China?” Taemin pushed Jongin away so that he could stare at him in the face. Taemin looked incredulous.
Jongin bit his lip. “I guess?” He whined under his breath. “I really need you to kiss me,” he whispered. “For the first time I feel like I can’t trust my powers and it scares me.”
Taemin’s expression softened. “Come here, baby,” he soothed, pulling Jongin down and kissing him softly. He kept the kiss light, just calm reassurance, but it was exactly what Jongin needed. “I’ve got you. You’re okay,” Taemin said against his lips. He tucked Jongin’s head into the crook of his neck and shoulder, rolling them onto their sides.
“Sleep, Jongin,” he commanded gently. “I’ve got you.”
Jongin relaxed in Taemin’s arms and tried to forget the wide, doll-like eyes he’d looked into that morning.
Chapter 5: the quiet sound of the wind
twO UPDATES in the same month?? Boy it sure it nice not being blocked.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Jongdae didn’t know how it was possible for a house so ridiculously large to feel full, but with the four new people from China living with them now, it had started to feel crowded very quickly.
Which was why he’d started taking refuge in the library at the end of the west wing, past Baekhyun’s room that he now shared with Yixing. He’d first discovered the library a week ago when he was looking for a quiet place to nap in the afternoon sun. Finding Kyungsoo reading on one of the armchairs on the lower level of the library had been a bonus.
It was a large room, taking up both floors of the west wing. The upper level was a narrow, shelf-filled balcony that overlooked the first floor of the library. Large windows were at the end of the room, letting long streaks of the dying afternoon light into the room, warming the leather armchairs and settees spread around the middle of the room. It was easy to see why Kyungsoo seemed to love it so much. Jongdae knew as soon as he discovered it that it would be one of his favorite rooms in the house.
And now it was a habit to spend his afternoons there. He would laze around in the sun while Kyungsoo read quietly, neither one of them saying much, simply resting in the quiet together. Today was no different.
Jongdae flopped down onto the other end of the settee Kyungsoo was reading on with a sigh, making Kyungsoo look up at him over the top of his book and raise an eyebrow.
“There’s a lot more people, now,” Jongdae explained.
Kyungsoo rolled his eyes and nodded in agreement. “It’s noisier, now.” A small pout. “The younger ones, Luhan and Zitao? They’re in the other half of my wing.” He sighed. “They talk a lot.”
Jongdae winced in sympathy. “The oldest one? Tall and scary looking? He’s in the room across the main stairs from mine.”
Jongdae snapped his fingers. “Yeah! He’s…intimidating.”
Kyungsoo closed his book, turning his full attention on Jongdae. “Maybe if you got to know him a little he wouldn’t be so scary.” Kyungsoo gave him a pointed look. “People aren’t always what they seem.”
It was almost…unnerving to have Kyungsoo’s full attention. While Kyungsoo had never protested Jongdae’s company, this was the first conversation they’ve had that’d lasted this long, and Jongdae selfishly wanted it to continue. “Come with me,” he blurted.
“What?” Kyungsoo asked, rearing back a little. Jongdae hadn’t realized he’d started to lean forward into Kyungsoo’s space until he moved away.
“Come with me while I introduce myself to Yifan.” Jongdae gave him a soft, pleading look, hoping to convince Kyungsoo to join him. “We can get to know him together.”
Kyungsoo squinted at him and remained silent for the longest moment. “Fine,” he relented, setting his book down onto the cushion next to him. “I’ll come with you.”
Jongdae let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He stood up, offering out a hand to help Kyungsoo off the settee. A current of electricity zinged through his fingers when Kyungsoo’s skin touched him, making Kyungsoo jump slightly.
“Sorry,” Jongdae said sheepishly. “One of the downfalls of controlling electricity is that it’s always flowing through me.”
Kyungsoo’s mouth twisted, but he didn’t seem to mind that much, dropping Jongdae’s hand once he was standing. “It’s fine,” he said, gesturing for Jongdae to lead the way out of the library.
Actually finding Yifan turned out to be the hardest part. They checked the east wing first, but he wasn’t with the two younger ones, who appeared to be having the world’s weirdest pillow fight in the living room between their two bedrooms. He also wasn’t with Yixing and Baekhyun, who were cuddled up together in the first-floor library, whispering to one another. Jongdae couldn’t really blame him for not wanting to be around them, honestly.
They found Yifan on the first floor in the sun room.
“Uh, excuse me?” Jongdae began awkwardly.
Yifan turned slowly to face Jongdae and Kyungsoo in the doorway, gesturing them into the sun room with him. Jongdae moved into the room, a hesitant Kyungsoo behind him.
“Hi,” Jongdae said, extending his hand for Yifan to shake. “I’m Jongdae, nice to meet you.”
Yifan nodded and reached out to take Jongdae’s hand. Jongdae was completely unprepared for the reaction he had when Yifan’s burning hot hand clasped around his. Electricity arced off him as burning energy from Yifan flooded through him.
Jongdae cried out, yanking his hand out of Yifan’s and cradling it to his chest. He could barely see through the sparks behind his eyes, but he was dimly aware of Minseok rushing into the room as he tried to reign in the energy surging through him. There were licks of flame crawling up Yifan’s arms.
“Jongdae!” Minseok yelled. “Pull yourself together. Get control, now.”
Easier said than done. The problem with electricity was that unless it was released, it had nowhere else to go, and his body could only hold so much. Whatever Yifan’s power was, it flooded Jongdae with so much energy that he had nowhere else for it to go except out. “Outside,” he panted out through gritted teeth. “Get me outside.”
It was Kyungsoo, not Minseok, who reached out to lead him outside. Before Jongdae could tell him not to touch him—there was no way he could keep himself from electrocuting Kyungsoo in his current state—Kyungsoo reached out and grabbed his wrist.
The relief was instant.
Jongdae blinked at Kyungsoo in shock as the excess energy coursing through his veins rushed into Kyungsoo before…dissipating harmlessly into the ground.
“What,” he gaped, and Kyungsoo must have taken all the electricity from his brain because his mind came to a full stop.
“How are you not dead?” Minseok asked, his frost-covered hands holding Yifan’s, sizzling where they touched as he cooled Yifan down. He was looking at Kyungsoo like he was an alien, which was hilarious considering a second ago Jongdae literally had lightning arcing off him and Yifan had flames licking up his arms.
Kyungsoo shrugged calmly. “Must be part of my power.”
“Excuse me?” Minseok shrieked, eyes wide with shock. “Your what?”
Kyungsoo sighed deeply, blinking slowly like he didn’t want to explain. “I’m connected to the earth. I can control it and apparently diffuse your excess energy into the earth as well.” He glanced at Jongdae from the corner of his eyes.
“How—what—huh?” Jongdae stuttered out, too overwhelmed by the feeling of the energy coursing through him and dissipating into the ground through Kyungsoo to form a coherent sentence. He looked at his hand in Kyungsoo’s in shock, and Kyungsoo quickly dropped his hand.
He tried not to feel disappointed by the loss of contact.
“Surprise,” Kyungsoo said dryly, waving his hands in a limp imitation of jazz hands.
“Why didn’t you mention this earlier?” Jongdae muttered, feeling the sting of betrayal. It wasn’t like Kyungsoo had to tell him all his secrets, but considering how much time they had been spending together lately, it would have been nice if Kyungsoo would have confided in him.
Kyungsoo gave a pointed look at Minseok and Yifan. “I’ll explain later,” he said softly.
“It’s nice to meet you, Jongdae,” Yifan said sheepishly, now that he was no longer flaming. “I wasn’t expecting a reaction quite like that.”
Jongdae laughed. “I don’t think either of us were.” He shrugged. “This house is going to be very exciting from now on, with all of us gifted kids living here.”
“Don’t remind me,” Minseok groaned, flicking the last bits of frost from his fingers. “I’m not ready to be a dad.”
Zitao woke to the sensation of Luhan crawling into his bed and snuggling up to his side.
“What are you doing?” Zitao groaned as Luhan moved his arms so that they were wrapped around him. It wasn’t that Zitao was opposed to Luhan wanting cuddles, it was that in all the time they had been together it was always Zitao who initiated physical affection.
“Someone was in my bed this morning,” Luhan whispered, and Zitao could feel the tremor that wracked his thin body.
“What?” Zitao asked, feeling more awake by the second. He tightened his arms around Luhan and pulled him closer.
“Some Korean guy was in my bed with me. He was cuddling and kissing me.” Luhan nuzzled his face into the skin of Zitao’s neck, seeking comfort and familiarity.
“What did you do?” Zitao said softly, running a soothing hand up and down Luhan’s back. “Who was it?”
“I don’t know.” Luhan shrugged. “He woke up and moved away from me. When I asked who he was he looked really confused, said something in Korean, and jumped out of the bed.”
Zitao leaned away from Luhan to look at his expression. “Is he still in the house? It wasn’t one of the people living here was it?”
“No, because when he got out of the bed he ran straight for the door and disappeared into thin air.”
“What?” Zitao could understand Luhan’s confusion. It was bizarre, and he made a mental note to ask Yifan if anyone in the house could disappear. He was fairly certain nobody had that power, but the thought that Luhan could have been hurt by a stranger made him pull Luhan even closer in a surge of protectiveness. “Are you okay?”
Luhan shuddered again in his arms. “I don’t like being touched by people I don’t know, but…”
“But?” Zitao prompted softly when Luhan didn’t continue.
Luhan audibly swallowed and whispered, “For a moment, before I became fully aware, I felt a sense of completeness that I’ve never felt before.”
Something clicked in the back of Zitao’s mind with Luhan’s words. Incomplete. That was what he had felt ever since gaining more control over his power. Now that he was living almost completely in the present he could sense the lack of something else. Something missing.
“Maybe we should talk to Yixing-gē, see if he knows anything about what you’re feeling,” Zitao suggested. Yixing and Yifan always seemed to know what was going on, and in the two days since they had broken Zitao and Luhan out of the hospital everything about Zitao’s life had gotten so much better. That, and knowing he was now surrounded by people like him made him feel safe in a way he hadn’t felt since before his powers manifested.
“I want to get out of this place,” Luhan said suddenly. “I feel suffocated.”
Zitao struggled to keep up with the change in subject. “What?”
Luhan huffed. “I want to get out of this house.”
Zitao scrunched up his face in thought. “Why?” he asked. In the few days since they had been there he’d felt fine. Sure, it was overwhelming to suddenly live with seven other people, most of which weren’t even Chinese, but he felt no need to leave the safety the house gave.
Plus, it was a fucking huge house.
Instead of answering him, Luhan reached for the phone charging on Zitao’s nightstand. One of the first things Yifan had done was get them a few changes of clothes and a smartphone, “In case you need to contact me or Yixing and you can’t find us,” he had said as he held the phones out to them.
“It says the most popular nightclub in Seoul is this one,” Luhan said, holding the phone in front of Zitao’s face.
Zitao squinted, trying to get his eyes to focus on the characters on the screen. “Why are you showing me a picture of a nightclub?”
“Because that’s where we’re going tonight,” Luhan said very slowly.
Instead of any kind of protest, Zitao simply said, “We don’t have anything to wear, and neither of us knows how to like, drive, or how to get into a club.”
Luhan blinked at him. “I forget that you were locked up before you could have any fun. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything. Find something sexy to wear.”
Sexy? Zitao had been locked up at age sixteen, and the last two years in a mental hospital had done nothing to teach him how to do anything other than try not to believe them when they said he was crazy.
“Are you sure about this Gēgē?”
Luhan smiled, and Zitao knew that his first impression about Luhan being pretty in a dangerous way was correct. “Completely. Trust me, Tao.”
The house was too quiet.
“It’s too quiet,” Yifan said suddenly, nudging Yixing to get his attention.
“What?” Yixing asked distractedly, tearing his gaze away from Baekhyun’s face for the first time in fifteen minutes.
They were sitting in the study around the corner from Yifan’s room. Yifan had been reading one of the books he found in the first-floor library—he’d been truly amazed by all the books in this house—while Baekhyun and Yixing had been talking quietly to one another on the other end of the couch.
Yifan made a face at Yixing but said, “When was the last time you saw Zitao or Luhan?”
Yixing squinted in thought. “I haven’t seen them since this morning. Why?”
Yifan frowned. Over the few days they’d been here, Zitao and Luhan had kept to themselves, but they’d still been around. Appearing in different rooms or tentatively exploring with each other. He made a point to check in on them at least once a day and made sure that they were coming to meals, but he hadn’t seen them at all today.
“I haven’t seen them all day.”
“I haven’t seen them either,” Baekhyun chimed in, not quite looking at Yifan.
Yifan scowled at him. “You’re not funny.” He turned to Yixing. “Can you sense them nearby?”
Yixing raised an eyebrow. “And how would I do that?”
“Can’t you like…sense their life forces or something?”
Yixing gave him a flat look. “Do you realize how big this house is? I can’t sense people that far away. All I can tell you is that Jongdae is in his room on this floor. That’s as far as my range can go.” He squinted into the distance for a moment. “I think Junmyeon is in the kitchen below us.”
“You can sense all of that?” Baekhyun asked, awe spreading across his features. He kissed Yixing on the cheek with a kind of accuracy that was startling for someone who was supposedly blind. “That’s so cool.”
“I’m going to go look for Zitao and Luhan,” Yifan said as Baekhyun and Yixing once again became absorbed with one another. His statement went unacknowledged.
He got up and checked their rooms first, since they were on the same floor and down the wing to his left.
“Luhan?” he called, peeking his head into the first room on the left side of the wing. It was empty, the white sheets of his bed unmade, and Yifan checked the suite between Luhan’s and Zitao’s room next. That room, as well as Zitao’s, was empty.
Frowning, he began to search the rest of the second floor. He didn’t bother checking Kyungsoo’s rooms. After the incident with Jongdae a few days ago Kyungsoo had been lying low—no doubt hiding from Minseok—and Yifan didn’t want to disturb him. When the rest of the second floor came up empty he moved downstairs, heading for the kitchen to ask Junmyeon if he’d seen the two of them.
“I haven’t. Are they missing?” Junmyeon asked in reply to Yifan’s question.
Yifan frowned for what felt like the fifth time in as many minutes. “I don’t know. I realized sometime after dinner that I hadn’t seen them all day and it made me worried.”
Junmyeon raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t seen them all day?”
“It’s probably nothing. They’re probably in the basement watching movies and I’m worried over nothing.”
Junmyeon shook his head. “I was in my pool earlier and there was nobody in the theater room. They’re not in the basement.”
Yifan pointedly moved past the pool comment, although he would revisit that later because who had their own pool. “Is Minseok home?”
“He’s on shift until midnight tonight.”
Suddenly it hit him. “They snuck out.”
Junmyeon blinked at him. “What?”
“Zitao and Luhan. They snuck out.”
“Why?” Junmyeon asked, confused. “They’re Chinese, barely speak any Korean, and they don’t have any way of getting around?”
Yifan pulled out his phone. If he was a kid who had been locked up and away from the world for the last few years, where would he go? “These are two kids who have been locked up through most of their teenage years. I don’t think they care about any of that and they want to have some fun.”
Junmyeon came around to peer at his phone, rising on his toes to see Yifan’s screen. “What are you doing?”
“I’m looking up nightclubs in Seoul. I don’t know them very well yet, but if I was a teenager that didn’t know what I was doing I would definitely go to a club to have fun. It’s probably the first thing they thought of.”
Junmyeon hummed in thought. “Do you want me to come with you? Help you look for them?” His expression morphed into one of concern. “They wouldn’t do something stupid like use their powers in public, would they? Korea is safer than China for people like us, but they’re still in danger. Baekhyun is proof of that.”
Yifan clicked on the first result of his search. It was a club in Hongdae. “They’re smart kids. Stupid, but smart. They should be okay until I can get to them.”
Junmyeon nodded. “Okay. Hurry, though. Take my car.”
Yifan took the keys Junmyeon dug out of his pocket before rushing back up to his room to throw his favorite black leather jacket on over the plain white t-shirt he was wearing before heading out the door.
Zitao and Luhan were in trouble as soon as he found them.
The moment he walked into the club, Yifan knew he’d found the right one. It was dark, loud, and full of young people dancing like they had no other purpose in life.
It also helped that he immediately spotted Zitao on the dance floor, his hands around the waist of a very pretty girl. He looked around for Luhan, spotting him a few feet away from Zitao in the crowded dance floor, dancing with a girl way too suggestively.
Yifan wrapped a tight leash around the anger simmering inside. Now was not the time to lose control and make a scene. Despite Junmyeon’s and Minseok’s confidence that they were relatively safe in Korea, Yifan had been too careful, for too long, to be lazy now.
He made his way through the crowded dance floor, moving in time to the music to keep from brushing against too many bodies. He danced up behind Zitao, tapping him on the shoulder and waiting until he turned around.
The speed at which Zitao’s face paled was comical. Yifan raised an eyebrow and grabbed Zitao’s wrist, dragging him toward where Luhan was dancing. Luhan’s resigned panic at the sight of Yifan made it easy for Yifan to direct them both off the dance floor and into a relatively quiet corner of the club.
“Explain,” Yifan began, caging both boys into the corner and crossing his arms as he waited for one of them to speak.
“I was bored,” Luhan said with a roll of his eyes. “I was tired of being stuck in that house. I didn’t trade one prison for another. I want to be able to do what I want.”
It was only because he had years of keeping a tight control on his emotions that he didn’t start yelling right then. “Do you realize how dangerous it is for people like us?” Yifan hissed, as quiet as he could while still being heard over the music.
Luhan bristled. “The others leave all the time. Why can’t we?”
“What would you have done if Zitao had gotten overwhelmed and lost control of his powers?” Yifan asked, placing a hand on Zitao’s shoulder. “He’s never been in a situation like this, and his control is tenuous at best.”
Zitao made a soft sound of protest. “I can control my powers now, Gēgē.” He snapped his mouth shut at the glare Yifan sent his way.
Luhan scowled. He knew Yifan had a good point. He wasn’t stupid—something Yifan knew all too well—but recklessness of this kind would get them all killed in no time. “If you were feeling restless you should have talked to me or Yixing. We could have…” he trailed off, the back of his neck prickling as the feeling of being watched spread through him.
Yifan whirled around, his senses on high alert. This was a terrible place for a fight—if it came to that—and he spread his arms in front of Luhan and Zitao protectively as he scanned the room.
“Gēgē, what’s wrong?” Zitao asked, his hands wrapping around Yifan’s bicep, seeking comfort and protection in equal measure. “Should I stop time, freeze everyone?”
“I don’t know,” Yifan murmured. “Not yet. I’ll let you know if you need to do that.” His eyes landed on a nearby figure; a man staring at them curiously. Yifan narrowed his eyes at him, hoping he would look away when he realized he’d been caught staring.
Instead, he started toward Yifan.
In the seconds it took for the stranger to walk to them, Yifan memorized everything he could about him in case this went bad and he needed to report who had tried to kill them to the others. He was tall, almost the same height as Yifan. His hair was black, slightly wavy and fluffy, shaggy enough to curl around his large ears and provide a curtain for dark, intense eyes to burn through.
“Hi,” the stranger said once he was in hearing range of Yifan. “Everything alright here?” he asked, peering around Yifan to look at Zitao and Luhan, like Yifan was some kind of predator or something.
“Fine.” Yifan snapped, his patience at its limit. The last thing he needed was some random guy deciding to be a white knight, no matter how incorrect his assumptions about the situation might be.
“Is this guy bothering you?” the man asked Zitao and Luhan, completely ignoring Yifan.
Yifan didn’t have to look to know that Luhan and Zitao were probably looking back at the man in confusion. They barely knew enough Korean to talk to Junmyeon and Baekhyun, never mind trying to manage a conversation in a loud club. “They don’t speak Korean,” Yifan explained, as patiently as he could manage. “We’re Chinese, and I’m about to take them home. They got away from me and it worried me.”
“Oh,” the man said, his eyes going large and round in surprise. “Your Korean is very good!” He smiled at Yifan, teeth white and even. “I’m glad they have someone to keep them safe. I’m Chanyeol,” he finished, holding out a hand for Yifan to shake.
Yifan sighed. He wanted to get out of here and back to the relative safety of the house. It would be his luck that he’d caught the attention of the friendliest guy in the club. “Kris,” he replied, reaching out to shake Chanyeol’s hand. He wasn’t about to give out his real name to a complete stranger.
Chanyeol’s hand wrapped around his, and fire exploded in his veins. Chanyeol was burning hot, and the second their palms brushed flames licked around their hands in a spiral, the fire tying their hands together briefly. A searing heat blazed up his forearm before cooling abruptly.
“What the fuck,” Yifan hissed, yanking his hand out of Chanyeol’s grip, sounds of surprise coming from behind him as Zitao and Luhan watched what was happening.
Chanyeol was staring at Yifan in shock, shaking his hand until the flames dissipated from his skin. “You’re like me,” he said, mouth gaping in awe. “You’re my missing half.”
Yifan was too busy looking around, hoping desperately that nobody else had seen their display. Nobody was screaming about fire, everyone was still dancing or drinking and by some miracle, hadn’t noticed. “We need to leave, now,” he commanded in Chinese, turning around to begin herding Zitao and Luhan out.
“Who is he?” Zitao asked, eyes wide. “He’s like you, Gē.”
Luhan remained silent, eyebrows furrowed slightly as he glanced between Yifan and Chanyeol.
“Wait,” Chanyeol said, grabbing Yifan around the wrist to stop him from walking away. “Don’t leave. You felt that too, right?”
Yifan shuddered, using all his control to push aside the way his body was demanding he gather Chanyeol into his arms. The urge to protect him, to make him his, was nearly overwhelming, but Yifan pushed it aside with an effort that felt monumental. “We have to go.”
“At least give me your number,” Chanyeol pleaded. “I’m so tired of being alone. Please.”
Yifan sighed, looking at Chanyeol for a long moment, ignoring the gentle tugs on his hand from Zitao as he and Luhan grew more panicked and desperate to leave. Chanyeol’s eyes were devastated, pleading, brimming with something that Yifan couldn’t ignore. “Fine. Give me your phone.”
Chanyeol exhaled sharply in relief, quickly pushing his phone into Yifan’s hands. Yifan quickly entered his number into Chanyeol’s phone, handing it back to him.
“We have to go.” Yifan turned and allowed Zitao and Luhan to tug him toward the exit of the club, fiercely ignoring the way his heart demanded he turn around and go back to Chanyeol. Every step away was difficult. He couldn’t help but look back, just once, something within him lurching painfully when he locked eyes with Chanyeol who was standing alone in a crowd of people, looking so forlorn.
Yifan walked out of the club, feeling like he’d left something important behind.
Taemin stopped Jongin in the kitchen, tilting his head slightly and staring fixedly at him. “I have something for you,” he said, his eyes going distant, “about your powers.”
He bit his lip nervously. Jongin hadn’t teleported since that morning a week ago when he’d woken up in a stranger’s bed. He was too afraid of his powers betraying him to let them loose, to use them to look for people like Taemin kept suggesting.
Still, when Taemin looked at him with that faraway look in his eyes and said, “Nini, baby, listen to any strange advice you might get today at work,” Jongin listened. He’d only ignored Taemin’s promptings once, and it had almost gotten him killed.
“Okay,” Jongin replied, leaning in to kiss the awareness back into Taemin’s eyes. “I’m leaving for work now. You taking any clients today?”
Taemin sighed and wrapped his arms around Jongin’s waist, leaning against him. “A few readings, but nothing too strenuous. I’ve been feeling wrung-out lately.”
Jongin gently cupped Taemin’s face in his hands, pressing gentle kisses to his cheeks, his forehead, his lips. “Take it easy babe. Remember what happened last time you overworked yourself?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Taemin sighed. “Get going, or you’ll be late for work,” he said, shooing Jongin out the door with a last, lingering kiss.
Work at a coffee shop always followed the same patterns, at least for Jongin. Taking orders, filling them, wiping down tables. It was all very routine and easy and generally something he didn’t have to think much about.
And on days like today, when it was quiet and slow, it was easy to let his mind wander to trivial things. Like how strange it had been to wake up in someone else’s bed and not sense anything wrong, to feel completely at ease.
Jongin was pulled away from that rather dangerous train of thought by a customer standing in front of him, and as he startled into awareness he wondered how long he’d been standing there. “Hi! Welcome, what can I get for you?”
The man squinted at the menu. He looked about the same age as Jongin, maybe slightly older, and like he had the weight of exams on his shoulders like most of the university students that had come into the café this week.
“I’ll have an iced Americano,” he settled on, his gaze flicking back down to pin Jongin to the ground with the intensity of his eyes.
Jongin scrawled the name on his cup before looking around and realizing that Joy must have gone on break. He quickly took Sehun’s payment before getting to work on his drink. It didn’t take him long—Americanos were popular enough that Jongin was sure he’d made them in his sleep at one point—and he was handing the drink to Sehun within a few minutes.
He couldn’t pin what it was about Sehun that stuck in his mind. He was handsome in an intimidating way, but that didn’t really matter. The only thing he could think was that Sehun had some sort of vibe around him, and he wished for Taemin’s insight more than ever. He would know exactly what it was about Sehun that was bothering him.
Taemin always seemed to know.
Sehun left after an hour or two, closing his laptop and leaving without any fanfare, and with him went Jongin’s fixation. He didn’t think about it again until he was walking home, and he could have sworn he heard Sehun’s voice whisper in his ear.
It wasn’t much, just a location and a time, but it was enough to have him picking up the pace and rushing home to Taemin, the warning about strange advice echoing in his head.
Chanyeol looked down at the hand Kris had shook, his eyes tracing the vivid red spiral across the back of his hand and up his wrist where the flames had burned into his skin. The lines were faint, pink like freshly healed scars, and if he looked closely he could see patterns of scales winding up his arm.
His own fire didn’t burn him, which meant that these burns were from Kris, that he could control fire just like Chanyeol could.
It meant Chanyeol wasn’t alone, that there was somebody like him.
Or there would be, if Kris would answer his texts, the most recent of which he sent off before his better judgement could stop him.
Did u just give me a fake number to get rid of me
I guess I can’t blame you
I’d get rid of me too tbh
It was pathetic and weak but Chanyeol had felt nothing but that since he finished college, working a job in finance that he didn’t even want.
But he’d just met someone like him, had felt something spark between them, and all he’d gotten was cold silence as none of his texts were answered. He wasn’t aware of how incredibly lonely he’d been until he realized there was someone else out there like him.
Someone, maybe, that could be something more than a stranger in time.
His phone buzzed on his desk and he was grateful he didn’t share a cubicle with anyone who could witness the way he dove for his phone like a madman.
I think we need to talk in person
That was it, followed by a dropped pin.
Chanyeol spent the rest of his work day debating how much of an idiot he would have to be to go to a location dropped to his phone by a near-stranger. By the end of the day, he’d concluded that he was far too curious to simply ignore the text.
Besides, something new inside him had woken up, and it was begging to see Kris again, to see if Kris could feel what he felt too.
He needed to know, and Chanyeol had always been curious.
Minseok loved Junmyeon’s pool. He loved the way the water glowed a soothing azure and the way it was lit from underwater lights in the walls of the pool. He was captivated by the way light rippled and danced across Junmyeon’s skin as it was reflected off the sloshing surface of the water they were in.
Most of all, he loved the way Junmyeon’s moans echoed around the room as he fucked him against the pool wall, their bodies half submerged in the warm water.
Junmyeon’s legs tightened around Minseok’s waist as Minseok rolled his hips slowly, careful not to hurt Junmyeon against the concrete behind him. He placed a hand between Junmyeon’s shoulder blades to provide a cushion and make sure he wasn’t hurting Junmyeon as he slowly increased his pace.
“Don’t worry-ah!-about the bruises,” Junmyeon gasped, wrapping his arms around Minseok’s shoulders and tangling one hand in the pink strands of his damp hair.
Minseok frowned, slowing the pace of his thrusts and using the hand he had against Junmyeon’s hip to change their position slightly until he found the right angle to thrust in at, Junmyeon’s whine as he hit his prostate echoing loudly around them. “I don’t want to hurt you, baby.”
Junmyeon buried his head against Minseok’s neck, panting heavily and biting lightly at Minseok’s skin. “I’ll just have Yixing heal them. Harder, please,” Junmyeon begged, and Minseok never could refuse him.
He held Junmyeon close and fucked into him harder, the water sloshing around them and providing a muted accompaniment to the symphony of Minseok’s growls and Junmyeon’s gasps and moans. He could feel Junmyeon shaking against him and the way Junmyeon clenched around his cock as his orgasm hit, his heels digging into Minseok’s ass as he urged him deeper, tighter.
It was enough to send Minseok over the edge right after him a few deep thrusts later.
Junmyeon relaxed against him, every inch of their bodies touching as his arms came around Minseok and they held each other close. Minseok ran a gentle hand up and down Junmyeon’s back in slow, soothing strokes, his other arm wrapped tightly around Junmyeon’s waist to keep him close. He was dimly aware of Junmyeon siphoning the cum out of the water and into the filters.
Eventually, Junmyeon lifted his head from the crook of Minseok’s shoulder, kissing Minseok slow and deep, his lips sliding against Minseok’s languidly. “Thank you,” he purred, his fingers scratching lightly at Minseok’s scalp.
Minseok chuckled softly and kissed the tip of Junmyeon’s nose. “For what, love?” He ran his hands lightly along the curve of Junmyeon’s hip before pulling out as gently as he could.
Junmyeon sighed at the loss and carefully unwound his legs from Minseok’s waist before standing. “For indulging me. Loving me. Adopting a houseful of kids with me.”
Minseok snorted. “They just keep appearing. What are we going to do?” He settled his arms back around Junmyeon’s waist, holding him close once again and rocking slightly side-to-side. “I love you.” He kissed Junmyeon’s cheek.
Junmyeon hugged him tightly for a long moment before pulling away. “Come on, let’s go get dinner ready.”
Minseok was walking up the stairs from the basement to the main foyer, his skin dewy with moisture Junmyeon hadn’t managed to lift away completely as they’d gotten dressed. Junmyeon hadn’t given him much warning when he pulled Minseok into the pool room, ambushing him and pinning him against the wall in a heated kiss.
With more and more people taking up residence in their home, the frequent bouts of alone time they’d previously enjoyed had shriveled up until it was difficult to find time to be with one another when they weren’t either exhausted or occupied with other things.
It made any time they could spend together all the more precious.
He reached the top of the stairs and stepped into the foyer just as a soft pop echoed through the space. It wasn’t a sound he’d ever heard before—kind of like the sensation he’d experienced when his ears popped mid-airplane flight and he could suddenly hear—a pressure change in the room around him.
He spun around to pinpoint the sound, stopping when he came face to face with a stranger who definitely hadn’t been there a second ago.
“Uh, who the fuck are you?” Minseok asked, shock and fear crashing through him as his brain registered danger.
The stranger stiffened, panic clear in his expression. “Who are you?”
Minseok narrowed his eyes. Whoever this person was, he was young, and had a chiseled face that made him seem more capable than he currently looked. “This is my house and I asked first.”
“Jongin,” he said after a moment of hesitation. The longer Minseok watched him the more afraid he seemed, which at least made it less likely that Jongin was here to kill all of them.
“I’m Minseok, and this—”
He was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing.
“Babe?” Junmyeon called, coming up the stairs behind Minseok and wrapping his arms around his waist from behind. “You gonna get that? Someone’s—” he abruptly cut off as he noticed Jongin a few feet away. “Who is that?”
“I got it!” Jongdae called, running past the three of them in the foyer, appearing from the west wing with Kyungsoo on his heels as he headed for the door.
“Minseok, what’s going on?” Junmyeon clung tighter to him, the uncertainty of the situation seeming to catch up with him.
Minseok ran a soothing hand along Junmyeon’s forearm around his waist, listening as Jongdae answered the door without taking his eyes from Jongin.
“Hey, Junmyeon?” Jongdae called. “Do we have anyone here named Kris?”
Minseok looked away from Jongin for the first time since he’d caught sight of him. “Who?” he asked, turning to look at Jongdae across the foyer. There was a tall, uncertain looking man on the threshold of his home, and things were suddenly happening too fast.
“I think that’s for me,” Yifan said as he rushed down the stairs across from Minseok and Junmyeon, Zitao and Luhan on his heels. Ever since Yifan had drug them back after their attempt to run away for a night they’d been incredibly clingy, often not letting Yifan or each other out of their sight.
“How many people live here?” Jongin asked, his eyes wide as he took in the seemingly endless stream of people appearing by the second.
“Nine,” Minseok answered absently, preoccupied by the way Yifan quickly ushered the man at the door inside.
“Who is that?” Yixing asked softly, scaring Minseok and making both him and Junmyeon jump in surprise. He was glancing between the man Yifan was talking quietly to and Jongin, Baekhyun’s hand clasped tightly in his as Baekhyun also appeared to look around the room.
“Where—when—what is going on?” Minseok replied. Too many things were happening, and he no longer knew what to do.
“Everyone to the great room,” Yifan instructed, repeating himself in Chinese for Luhan and Zitao.
“Hey, who is that?” Jongdae asked as he and Kyungsoo walked past Minseok and Junmyeon on the way to the great room, Jongdae gesturing to Jongin.
“I’m Jongin, and I’m very confused as to why I’m here.”
“Why are you here?” Junmyeon questioned him, letting go of Minseok’s waist to lace their fingers instead as they followed Jongdae and Kyungsoo into the great room.
Jongin shook his head, stumbling slightly to keep up with everyone as Yifan herded them all along. “I was told to be here at this time, so I listened.”
Minseok frowned at that. He had several questions but didn’t voice them in favor of waiting until they were all in the same room.
He and Junmyeon sat on a loveseat in the circle of furniture arranged around the giant area rug in the middle of the large room. Junmyeon curled into his side, keeping their hands linked as they watched everyone else sit in different places in the circle. Minseok made a point to compliment Junmyeon on his interior decorating later, since the room was expertly furnished to allow large groups of people to converse easily.
Yixing sat in one corner of the large couch across from Minseok and Junmyeon, pulling Baekhyun into his lap and wrapping him up in his arms protectively. Luhan and Zitao did the same on the other side of the couch, and Minseok took note of the way Luhan’s face paled the moment he laid eyes on Jongin.
Luhan whispered something in Zitao’s ear, making the other boy turn sharply and narrow his eyes at Jongin while Luhan crawled behind Zitao to curl into the corner of the couch, hiding as much of himself from view as possible, Zitao moving forward on the cushion to make room for Luhan behind him as Jongdae flopped down in the remaining space between Zitao and Luhan and the mess of limbs that was Yixing and Baekhyun.
Jongin, oblivious to any of that happening, settled awkwardly on the settee that was placed between the couch and the loveseat, looking like he was ready to run from the room at any moment.
Kyungsoo sat on the floor at Jongdae’s feet while Yifan directed the stranger he seemed to know to the armchair on Minseok’s left before standing in front of the fireplace and facing them all. “Everyone,” he began, gesturing to the stranger to his left, “this is Chanyeol. He’s a fire user and I invited him here to explain he wasn’t alone. Chanyeol, everyone here is gifted.” He scanned the room, his eyebrows furrowing as his gaze landed on Jongin.
“Who are you?” he asked Jongin, before anyone could ask anything about Chanyeol.
Jongin swallowed nervously. “I’m Jongin, and I was told to be here at this time.”
Yifan squinted in suspicion. “By whom?”
“Okay,” Jongin began nervously, “I’m not crazy, but I think the wind told me?”
“That sounds pretty crazy to me,” Jongdae said wryly.
“The wind can’t talk,” Baekhyun pointed out helpfully.
Jongin sighed. “I know. But that’s what happened. And I ended up here.”
“But how did you get into the house?” Minseok asked. “One second you weren’t there, and the next you were in my foyer.”
Jongin’s expression closed off. “You must have missed me knocking.”
“He can teleport,” Zitao said quietly, in Chinese.
“He can what now?” Jongdae cried in the same moment Yifan raised an eyebrow at Zitao and said, “And you know this because…?”
Zitao coaxed Luhan out from behind him. “Because Luhan-gē woke up one morning with him in his bed,” Zitao explained, pointing to Jongin. “But as soon as he woke up, he ran out of the room and disappeared.”
“You’re just telling us this now?” Yixing said lowly, his voice still soft and calm but infinitely more dangerous sounding.
Everyone who understood what Zitao had said slowly turned to look at Jongin, who was looking at Luhan in wide-eyed shock.
“You,” Jongin exclaimed, pointing at Luhan, causing Luhan to shrink back behind Zitao again.
“Will someone please explain what’s going on?” Kyungsoo groaned. “Some of us don’t speak Chinese.”
Jongdae leaned down to whisper in Kyungsoo’s ear while Yixing did the same for Baekhyun.
“You can teleport?” Minseok asked Jongin in Korean, and Chanyeol and Junmyeon both looked at Jongin in shock.
“Who is he?” Jongin asked instead of answering, still pointing at Luhan.
“That’s Luhan,” Junmyeon answered cautiously. “He doesn’t speak Korean very well yet.”
“Wait,” Jongdae interrupted suddenly. “If Yifan knows Chanyeol and told him to come here, who told Jongin to come here tonight? It had to have been someone.”
The doors leading out to the patio blew open in a gust of wind. “I told him.” A young man stepped into the room from the patio, the surprise of the doors bursting open making Minseok jump to his feet, icicles forming at his fingertips, ready to hurl them at the intruder.
He wasn’t the only one to react.
Jongdae had sparks arcing through his fingers, while Yifan and Chanyeol both had flames pooling in their palms. Zitao and Yixing were both shielding Luhan and Baekhyun, and Jongin was standing, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking at the man with something close to recognition while Kyungsoo crouched slightly.
“Woah,” the intruder said, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m not here to attack you guys.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Jongdae spat, while Baekhyun muttered, “I’m sick of new people just showing up right and left.”
“My name is Sehun,” he answered, smiling, “and I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here today.”
I can't promise that the next update will be in another two weeks, but I *am* currently writing like a monster, so maybe you'll be lucky. If not, please forgive the occasional long waits between updates. I'm heading into ch9 now, which is when things really get going, so I might get bogged down soon.
Thanks for your patience and understanding uwu <3
Comments are always appreciated pls praise me huhuhu
Chapter 6: protect the newly blossomed purity
I fondly refer to this as 'that one sex chapter' so like...enjoy ig
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Jongdae’s first instinct was to send a bolt of electricity right into Sehun’s heart, but Kyungsoo kept a steady hand on his shoulder, simultaneously keeping him in place and curbing the wild energy flowing through him.
By the looks of things, Minseok, Chanyeol and Yifan were thinking the same thing he was.
“It’s very important,” Sehun continued, “that we all—”
He froze mid-sentence. His whole body just…stopped.
“What?” Junmyeon said, looking at Sehun in confusion. “Did he just…?”
“Gēgē,” Luhan said softly, drawing the attention of Yifan and Yixing. He gestured to Zitao when they both glanced at him, and Jongdae looked too.
Zitao was staring fixedly at Sehun, his hands out, and everything clicked. Couldn’t Zitao control time, or something? Jongdae hadn’t had much interaction with the kid yet, but he remembered Minseok talking about their powers one night at dinner.
“Good job, Taozi,” Yixing said softly, encouragingly. “How long can you hold him?”
“Two minutes, maybe three,” Zitao muttered, voice strained.
“We have two minutes to decide what to do,” Yifan announced in Korean.
“I know him,” Jongin said quietly, flinching into himself when everyone’s attention shifted to him.
“Explain,” Minseok demanded, shaking the ice from his hands and crossing his arms.
“He came in where I work earlier today to get some coffee. He was nice? He didn’t seem dangerous.”
“None of us seem dangerous at first glance,” Yixing murmured softly. “It’s why we’re all still alive.”
“Well, everyone except Yifan, maybe,” Baekhyun quipped. “He’s pretty scary looking.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be blind?” Chanyeol asked while Yifan glared at Baekhyun.
“Gē!” Zitao called out in warning. Sehun twitched slightly as Zitao briefly lost grip on the time bubble he had around Sehun.
“I say we listen to what he has to say,” Minseok reasoned, repeating himself in Chinese for Luhan and Zitao’s sake. “It’s eleven against one, if we need to fight we can take him, okay?”
Jongdae looked around the room as everyone slowly nodded in agreement.
“Zitao,” Yifan said, “let him go.”
“—work together,” Sehun finished. He blinked in confusion. “Wait, did a bunch of you just move?”
“We’ve decided to listen to what you have to say,” Minseok explained.
Sehun’s face scrunched up. “When?”
“Who sent you?” Junmyeon asked as everyone ignored Sehun’s question.
Sehun’s eyes narrowed even further. “Nobody sent me. I came here by myself.”
“How did you know where we were?” Yifan questioned, crossing his arms and looking threatening just by virtue of being tall and broad. He walked closer to Sehun and stared him down.
“I’ve been keeping tabs on all the gifted in the area.” Sehun looked at Yifan with a bored expression. “And when I heard whispers on the wind about you guys and your house full of gifted I figured it was time for all of us to meet.”
“How do we know you’re not a spy?” Yixing asked, waiting patiently for Yifan to translate his question into Korean.
Sehun scowled. “Um, because I’m not?” He huffed and crossed his arms. “Look, we can argue about this later. Right now, there’s more important things to talk about.”
“Why does that sound so ominous?” Minseok asked, lacing his fingers with Junmyeon’s and pulling him close.
Jongdae wondered if Kyungsoo would slap him if he reached for his hand and linked their fingers together.
“Because it is ominous,” Sehun replied, much calmer than the statement seemed to deserve. “I’ve heard from some of my normie friends that people are starting to ask questions. My main informant Heechul told me that he’d been approached by some intense looking men asking him if he knew anyone that could do strange things.”
“What’s a normie?” Jongdae asked.
“You know my boss?” Jongin cried, stepping forward like he was going to approach Sehun.
“A normie is what we call anyone without powers,” Minseok explained, drawing Jongdae’s attention to him. “At least, that’s what we call them in Korea.” He and Junmyeon sat back down on the couch, apparently deciding that they weren’t in any immediate danger any longer.
Jongdae watched with a pang of something that definitely wasn’t envy as Junmyeon tucked himself into Minseok’s side, burying his face into the curve of Minseok’s shoulder. Next to him, Kyungsoo also sat back down on the floor, and Jongdae watched as everyone slowly relaxed back into their seats.
Well, Zitao and Luhan had been sitting curled around each other for a while, completely checked out of the conversation as everyone talked too quickly in Korean. Yixing was only keeping up because Baekhyun had been whispering Chinese words when he didn’t catch the Korean ones.
Sehun cautiously moved into the middle of the room, slowly sitting on the large area rug in the middle of their circled seats, and Jongdae didn’t miss the way Zitao’s eyes followed his every movement. Sehun fixed his gaze on Jongin. “Nice to see you again, Jongin. Yes, I know your boss Heechul. He’s been keeping an eye on you for me until the time was right.”
“I’m glad you followed my directions, though,” Sehun continued while everyone else watched the conversation unfold in front of them. “I’m never sure if someone is going to listen when I use the wind to whisper something to them.”
Jongdae sat next to Kyungsoo on the floor instead of by Baekhyun. Kyungsoo slumped over and rested his head on Jongdae’s shoulder, letting his eyes close. Jongdae tried to pay attention to the conversation and not how his heart was doing backflips in his chest.
“I would have ignored you if my boyfriend hadn’t warned me to listen to any instructions I might get, no matter how odd,” Jongin muttered.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jongdae saw Luhan stir, sitting up in Zitao’s lap to stare fixedly at Jongin. Maybe he understood more than he let on.
“You have a boyfriend?” Baekhyun asked, peeking over Yixing’s shoulder to stare just past Jongin with his startlingly blue eyes.
“His boyfriend is a seer named Taemin,” Sehun explained, “and according to some of my contacts, he’s been trying to see into the immediate future to assess threats.”
“Your boyfriend can see the future??” Chanyeol interjected, saying something for the first time. “That’s dope.”
“Yeah, when can we meet him? Is he going to move in here with you?” Baekhyun was bouncing slightly with excitement.
“Yeah, he can, and—wait, move in?” Jongin looked around the room in confusion.
“Woah, wait hold on, I never agreed to more people moving in,” Junmyeon piped up, glaring at Yifan like it was his fault.
“Where’s my room?” Sehun asked, looking eagerly between Yifan and Junmyeon. “Is Chanyeol moving in too?”
Yifan opened his mouth, closed it, took a breath, then looked at Junmyeon pleadingly. “I mean, we have the room, right?”
“I don’t want a room,” Jongin insisted. “Taemin and I have an apartment, and I can be here in a split second if I’m needed.”
“Please,” Baekhyun snorted. “Nobody can get anywhere that quickly.”
If Jongdae hadn’t been watching Jongin, he wouldn’t have believed the way he disappeared from his spot on the couch and appeared next to Yifan by the fireplace in the next breath.
“What the fuck,” Chanyeol yelped, jumping out of his skin as Jongin was suddenly sitting on the arm of the armchair he was sat in.
“I can be here in seconds,” Jongin repeated. “There’s no need to for me to move in, right?” He bit his lip nervously, hands wringing in his lap.
Junmyeon threw up his hands. “Fine! What’s two more people in this house?”
“Everyone is expected to pitch in on food and cooking.” Minseok glared at each of them in turn. “Also, if you don’t clean up after yourselves, I’ll freeze your balls off. I like a clean house.”
Chanyeol raised his hand, waiting until Yifan nodded in his direction to speak. “Does this mean I can sell my apartment?”
Junmyeon sighed, but nodded. “You can take the room next to Jongdae’s on the second floor. It’s across from Yifan’s. Either one of them can show you.”
Behind Jongdae and Kyungsoo, Zitao leaned over and muttered something to Yixing too fast for Jongdae to catch.
“Zitao wants to show Sehun to his room, wherever that might be.”
Everyone turned to look at Sehun, who blinked at Zitao, his expression carefully blank. Jongdae thought he saw something spark in his eyes though.
“Sure,” Minseok drawled, looking between Sehun and Zitao. “Any of the rooms on Baekhyun’s floor is fine. Whichever one he wants.”
Yifan translated for Zitao, who nodded once before fixing his unblinking gaze on Sehun.
“Okay,” Sehun hummed. “Well, now that that’s settled, how are we going to stay safe?”
“Uh, not that I don’t care about staying safe,” Jongin interrupted, “but I should have been home an hour ago, and I don’t want Taemin to worry. Can I go?”
“It’s late,” Yifan said decisively. “We should all get some sleep and talk about this in the morning over breakfast. Agreed?” He looked at each of them until they gave him a nod or word of affirmation. “Okay, we’ll meet in the morning at nine.”
Baekhyun groaned at the time, but a pinch in the side from Yixing kept him quiet.
Jongin disappeared from the room with a soft pop, prompting everyone else into motion. Jongdae looked at Kyungsoo as the room emptied around them, but Kyungsoo didn’t show any sign of moving.
“Hey,” Jongdae whispered, shrugging his shoulder lightly to jostle Kyungsoo. Minseok gave him a questioning look at he and Junmyeon stood up to leave the room. Jongdae shooed him away with a wave of his hand. He could handle this.
Kyungsoo stirred slightly on his shoulder, yawning audibly as he sighed awake. “Did I miss anything important?” he mumbled, wrapping an arm around Jongdae’s waist and burrowing closer to him.
Jongdae’s brain froze. He was stunned for long enough by Kyungsoo’s actions that Kyungsoo looked up at him questioningly. “Jongdae?”
“Nothing much,” Jongdae replied, tentatively wrapping an arm around Kyungsoo’s waist. “We’re meeting again at nine in the morning to address possible threats to our safety.”
Kyungsoo nodded against his shoulder before sitting up. “Come on, we better get to bed.” He stood up and walked out of the room. Jongdae sighed, wondered briefly if Kyungsoo would ever spare him any conscious attention, before getting up and following after Kyungsoo.
At the top of the stairs they both froze as the sound of a body hitting a wall came through the closed door of Yifan’s room. Kyungsoo and Jongdae traded a look. Kyungsoo took a total of two steps toward his own room, around the stairs and past Yifan’s room, but a low growl and another thud from Yifan’s room had Kyungsoo turning around and scampering for Jongdae’s room with him.
“Can I sleep in your room tonight?” Kyungsoo asked as Jongdae shut his door behind him. “I’m starting to get lonely in mine at night and I’m not walking past Yifan’s room right now. I don’t want to get a fireball to the face or something.”
Jongdae looked at Kyungsoo in suspicion for a moment before shrugging. Kyungsoo’s excuse sounded so flimsy it was practically non-existent, but Jongdae wasn’t about to turn down a night of potential cuddles with Kyungsoo. “Sure. I don’t mind sharing the bed. It’s way too big for one person anyway.”
Kyungsoo narrowed his eyes at Jongdae, who simply smiled widely in return.
“I changed my mind,” he said flatly, turning to walk out of the room. Jongdae picked up a pillow off the bed and threw it at Kyungsoo, hitting him squarely in the back.
“Don’t be shy, Soo,” Jongdae cooed as Kyungsoo turned around slowly to glare at him. “I won’t bite.”
Kyungsoo picked up the pillow. “I don’t believe you.”
“I won’t bite…hard,” Jongdae amended, eyes widening at Kyungsoo rushed him with the pillow, shoving it into his face and wrestling him onto the bed as he laughed.
“You’re the worst,” Kyungsoo said, thumping Jongdae soundly in the head with the pillow before rolling off him and sprawling onto the bed.
“Ah, but you still like me,” Jongdae sighed. Kyungsoo didn’t say anything in response, which Jongdae took as confirmation.
He smiled up at the ceiling. Maybe he was getting somewhere, after all.
Chanyeol was striding after Yifan, following him out of the very impromptu meeting, and because he was nearly as tall as Yifan was he was catching up quickly.
Yifan made it to the door of his room before Chanyeol caught up to him, panting slightly after racing up the stairs after Yifan.
“What?” Yifan asked, crossing his arms as Chanyeol blocked his path.
“We need to talk,” Chanyeol said, catching his breath.
Yifan raised an eyebrow. “About?”
Chanyeol frowned and gestured between them emphatically. “Whatever…this is! This feeling between us.”
Yifan clenched his teeth. He knew he was going to regret asking Chanyeol to come over tonight, and this was it. Him regretting it. He knew exactly what Chanyeol was asking about, what he meant when he gestured between the two of them. He knew the second he touched Chanyeol that he’d have to face this particular aspect of his heritage—his mother had explained how he was special when he was a teenager—but that didn’t mean he wanted to be having this conversation with Chanyeol right now.
“What feeling?” Yifan asked, mostly just to be infuriating. But he also wanted to know exactly what Chanyeol was feeling. There were many things the bond could manifest as, and just because he’d always assumed it would mean love like Yixing and Baekhyun had apparently found, it didn’t mean his match would want the same thing.
Chanyeol looked at him for a long moment, chewing his bottom lip between his teeth. “I feel like I can’t breathe whenever I’m not around you,” he finally admitted, his voice soft and more unsure than Yifan had ever heard it. “I don’t know why, and I don’t know how I can feel this strongly when I don’t even know you.” He looked at Yifan from under his lashes, somehow, even though they were nearly eye to eye. “I want to figure out what this means.”
Yifan choked down his first response, the true one, and lied through his teeth. “It means nothing, Chanyeol. There’s nothing to talk about.” He shouldered past a stricken Chanyeol and into his room.
“Nothing…to talk about?” Chanyeol whispered in the doorway, his back to Yifan.
“Yes,” Yifan replied, turning away in hopes that ignoring Chanyeol would make him leave. Yifan’s self-control was thinning, a thread about to snap, and he needed Chanyeol to drop this and leave.
The door to his bedroom slammed shut, and he relaxed slightly. Chanyeol may never speak to him again, but he was safer this way. Yifan couldn’t have a bond with Chanyeol, not with his father actively looking for him. He couldn’t put someone in direct danger like that.
He jumped when a hand gripped his shoulder and spun him around.
“Say that again, to my face, Kris,” Chanyeol growled, literal sparks behind his eyes and his fingers singeing through the material of Yifan’s shirt.
Yifan gulped, his eyes drawn to the fierce set of Chanyeol’s jaw, the muscles jumping as he clenched his teeth in frustration. “I—there’s—” He struggled for words, to force the lie from his lips once again, this time in the face of Chanyeol’s fury.
“That’s what I thought.” Chanyeol’s fingers tightened around his shoulder before he slid his hand up to grasp the back of Yifan’s neck, pulling him in for a brutal, vicious kiss.
Chanyeol’s lips were searing against his mouth, his fingers sizzling where they gripped at Yifan’s jaw and neck as he held Yifan captive with the intensity of his kiss. Yifan tried to pull away in a last attempt at preserving what distance he could keep with Chanyeol, but Chanyeol’s hands tightened around his neck and kept him in place.
Yifan bit down on Chanyeol’s lower lip, hard, in retaliation, his blood thrumming through his veins at the low growl the pain coaxed from Chanyeol. That one sound was enough to snap the last tenuous hold Yifan had on his self-control.
He surged forward, his hands latching on to the narrow jut of Chanyeol’s hips, his thumbs digging into the hollow space of his pelvis as he deepened the kiss, his tongue dancing with Chanyeol’s like two competing flames. A distant part of his brain was screeching in alarm because Chanyeol was a weakness and things were dangerous enough without Yifan finding his Achilles heel in a boy with fire in his blood.
That distant, screeching part of his brain was drowned out by a sudden, overwhelming surge of feeling as the bond that had sparked between them when they first touched roared to bright, burning life within him.
Chanyeol whimpered around Yifan’s tongue, his hands slipping away from his neck and jaw to slide up and under Yifan’s shirt, fingers as hot as brands. Yifan hissed, leaving Chanyeol’s singed lips to kiss his way down Chanyeol’s jaw to his neck, practically breathing in the moans he coaxed from Chanyeol with each lick and scrape of teeth.
“Off,” Chanyeol panted, yanking Yifan’s shirt up and off before shoving Yifan against a wall, their lips meeting in another bruising kiss. His hands began to fumble at the button of Yifan’s pants, and he broke off the kiss to look down and see what he was doing, prompting Yifan to open his eyes and take in what was happening.
Heat was rolling off them in waves, the air shimmering in a mirage around and between their bodies. The room had to be stifling by now, but all Yifan felt was a deep, burning need to be as close to Chanyeol as he could get. He knocked Chanyeol’s hands away with a low growl, leaning forward to rid Chanyeol of his own shirt instead. His eyes caught on the spiral burn looping around Chanyeol’s right wrist from their first meeting, the pattern of Yifan’s fire imprinted into his skin like a brand.
Like Yifan’s power knew Chanyeol was meant to be his, and he Chanyeol’s.
Chanyeol tried to crowd him back against the wall as Yifan let the shirt in his hands drop. His hands went to the small of Chanyeol’s back, a faint sizzling sound filling the room as his hands met the damp skin there. Chanyeol reached up for Yifan’s face, to pull it back to his, but Yifan reared back, one hand coming up over his throat to grip beneath Chanyeol’s jaw, thumb and forefinger on either side of his neck as he forced Chanyeol to meet his gaze. His pulse beat erratically beneath his fingertips as Chanyeol’s mouth fell open under his grip.
Maintaining eye-contact, Yifan kept his grip on Chanyeol’s jaw tight while his other hand slid down to grasp Chanyeol’s ass firmly in the palm of his hand, squeezing and rocking Chanyeol’s hips against his. Chanyeol’s eyelids fluttered, a thready whine slipping from between his still-parted lips.
Emotions filtered to him through their bond from Chanyeol faster than he could process them; lust, desire, frustration, among others. Something hardened in Chanyeol’s gaze, and he shoved a knee between Yifan’s thighs, his hands falling to Yifan’s hips and encouraging the way he began to grind against his thigh.
Yifan smirked, releasing Chanyeol’s jaw so he could grip him around the waist with both hands, hooking one foot behind Chanyeol’s knees to make them bend. Chanyeol grunted and fell to his knees, his fingers snagging in the waist of Yifan’s pants. Before Chanyeol could get the wrong idea, Yifan fell to his knees and pulled Chanyeol in to a kiss, a hand tangling in the dark of Chanyeol’s curls to tug his head back, baring Chanyeol’s throat to Yifan’s lips.
Chanyeol’s fingers scrabbled to find purchase on Yifan’s skin, making him hiss when Chanyeol scratched burning lines of fire down his back as Yifan mouthed at his throat. Yifan pulled him back until Chanyeol was laying on the floor of Yifan’s bedroom, his chest heaving while he panted beneath Yifan, legs on either side of his waist as Yifan knelt between his legs.
“If you want to stop,” Yifan began between kisses that sizzled against Chanyeol’s collarbones, “then you need to tell me now.” There was a part of Yifan that rebelled against the consuming feeling of the bond solidifying, a part that reminded him that the only thing he knew about Chanyeol was that he was supposed to be Yifan’s other half. It was the part speaking now, giving Chanyeol a chance to back down.
The other part of him, the larger part, was listening to the demands of the magic forming between them, the urge to claim Chanyeol as his, completely and totally, clamoring loud and insistent in his ears.
Chanyeol’s hands went to his pants again, not fumbling this time as he deftly undid the button and fly. “I don’t want to stop,” he breathed as Yifan moved forward to kiss him softly between words, “I just want you.”
Yifan felt heat spike in his gut, his power coiling and burning with his arousal. He reached between them, making quick work of stripping Chanyeol of his pants and underwear before getting rid of his own. He leaned back down, his forearms on either side of Chanyeol’s head as he kissed him deeply, slowly, grinding their erections together with slow rolls of his hips.
Chanyeol’s legs hooked higher over his hips, squeezing and encouraging Yifan closer, his hands tugging at the strands of Yifan’s hair as he moaned into the kiss. Yifan moved a hand down Chanyeol’s side, around his hip until he could tease at his hole. Chanyeol gasped against his lips, his legs falling apart in reflex.
Yifan broke away from the kiss to locate his nightstand, pleased when it was only a few feet in front of him. He patted Chanyeol’s hip lightly before crawling forward over Chanyeol’s body to reach into the top drawer for the bottle of lube he had in there. He blessed his foresight when he’d thrown it into his bag before leaving China.
A wet heat enveloped his cock without warning, and he looked down between his arms to see Chanyeol had moved down so he could slowly swallow Yifan’s cock. Chanyeol’s mouth around him felt so good, but it wasn’t what he wanted right this moment and if Chanyeol didn’t stop this would be too quick for either of them. He moved back, shaking off Chanyeol’s loose grip on his hips and letting his cock slip free of Chanyeol’s mouth.
Chanyeol whined, his hands reaching out to stroke Yifan. Before he could, Yifan gathered up his hands in one of his own, pinning Chanyeol’s arms to the floor above his head. It was a bit of a struggle to get the lube open and spilling over his fingers with just one hand and his teeth, but it was worth it to have Chanyeol spread out beneath him as he slipped two fingers into him, rubbing slowly in and out to stretch him.
Chanyeol keened, his back arching off the floor slightly at the sensation. Yifan watched his face as he fingered him open, the expressions of pleasure dancing across his face whenever Yifan found a sensitive spot with his searching fingers. Tiny sparks danced between Chanyeol’s fingers, still trapped beneath his own hand, and the longer Yifan fingered him the louder Chanyeol got, his whines quickly rising with the heat in the room.
Yifan knew he’d found Chanyeol’s prostate when he cried out in pleasure, licks of flame dancing along Chanyeol’s hands and arms, and he added a third finger just to hear the way Chanyeol gasped beneath him, soothing him through the burn with a consuming kiss as he continued to brush against his prostate occasionally.
“I’m ready,” Chanyeol insisted, pulling against the hold Yifan had on his wrists. “Kris stop teasing—ah!—me.” Yifan didn’t hesitate, quickly slicking himself up so that he could sink into the searing heat of Chanyeol.
Chanyeol’s breathing hitched at the sensation as Yifan sank in slowly. He whimpered, and Yifan placed his other hand at Chanyeol’s hip, keeping him in place as fire danced between their bodies and Chanyeol writhed slightly under him. After their initial meeting where their fire had burned each other, Yifan was realizing that Chanyeol’s fire didn’t hurt him, like they’d each gotten an immunization shot for each other’s power.
The same didn’t apply, though, to the floor, and Yifan found himself letting go of Chanyeol’s hands so he could run his own soothingly up and down his sides as Chanyeol got increasingly worked up with each slow roll of Yifan’s hips. Chanyeol placed one burning hand, fire licking between his fingertips, against the floor to brace himself as he rolled his hips up to meet Yifan’s next thrust with a moan.
“Slow, baby,” Yifan soothed, stilling his hips and gently running his hands over Chanyeol’s body to ease the flames that flickered across his chest away. “You’re doing so well, xiao Yeol.” He absently snuffed out the flames burning on the floor from Chanyeol’s hand as he kissed him gently, teasing Chanyeol’s lips between his before slipping his tongue past them to lick at the back of Chanyeol’s teeth.
He captured both of Chanyeol’s hands in his, lacing their fingers together and placing them on either side of Chanyeol’s head as he resumed his slow thrusts, relishing every breathless moan and whimper he coaxed from Chanyeol.
It took what little remained of his control not to lose total grip on his power. It was overwhelming, to have sex with Chanyeol and feel himself burning up from the inside out as everything he felt was amplified through the bond they now shared.
Chanyeol clenched around him right before he came, and Yifan pulled back to catch Chanyeol’s gaze, holding it as he eased Chanyeol over the edge and he was coming between them, lashes fluttering at the pleasure coursing through him. It was enough to have Yifan following a few quick thrusts after, burying his face into the curve of Chanyeol’s shoulder as he shuddered through the aftershocks.
Chanyeol unlaced their fingers so he could run his hands slowly up and down Yifan’s back as their breathing returned to normal. “I told you we needed to talk,” he said after a long moment, their bodies cooling slightly in the still stifling room.
Yifan pulled back to look at Chanyeol in the face, smoothing his sweat-damp curls away from his forehead with one hand. “I’m not sure you can call that talking, exactly.”
Chanyeol smiled softly. “Sure, you can,” he replied, wiggling his hips slightly where Yifan was still in him, making them both grunt at the oversensitivity. “We talked through a lot.”
Yifan pulled out, kissing Chanyeol in apology when he winced at the feeling. “If by ‘talked through a lot’ you mean ‘didn’t talk through anything and fucked out our feelings instead’ then yeah, we totally did.”
Chanyeol snorted, laughing as Yifan got up to get a washcloth from his attached bathroom. He was grateful, in this moment, that the rooms in this house were more like mini apartments. He returned to Chanyeol, gently cleaning him up before helping him up and into Yifan’s bed. Once he slid in next to Chanyeol, he had an armful of him.
“Why did you fight against me so hard?” Chanyeol asked after a long moment of running their hands over each other, mapping the things they were each too busy to note earlier.
Yifan sighed. “Remember earlier, in that meeting of sorts, how I mentioned the threat in China?” He didn’t exactly want to be telling Chanyeol this, but he needed to explain himself somehow, so a portion of the truth would have to be enough for now. The rest would come later.
Chanyeol nodded, his thumbs tracing gingerly over Yifan’s cheekbones.
“That threat is directly focused on me. They want me more than almost anyone.” He bit his lip, looking into Chanyeol’s eyes and debating how much to tell. “I knew the second we touched in that club what we were, what we would be to each other.” He rolled onto his back, pulling Chanyeol half across his chest. “I’ve known for a long time that I had a soulmate—someone fate would place in my way—and that I’d likely form some kind of bond with them. I wasn’t expecting the intensity we experienced.
“But Chanyeol,” he warned, his hand cupping Chanyeol’s jaw to tilt his face up until they were looking each other in the eye. “Accepting this, allowing you close to me, greatly increases the chances that at some point you’ll be in great danger because of me. The people who want me, if they find out what you mean to me, will use you to hurt me.”
Chanyeol cocked his head to the side. “And what do I mean to you, Kris?”
“Everything, Chanyeol,” Yifan blurted, trying not to be alarmed when Chanyeol’s eyes widened slightly. “You’re brilliant, intensely bright, ardently pure.” He licked his lips. Chanyeol’s eyes followed the motion. “You’re my Canlie.”
Chanyeol’s gaze snapped back to meet Yifan’s. “What’s that?”
Yifan pulled him in for a gentle kiss, humming softly at the thrum of contentment that surged through their link. “Another name for you, in Chinese. It means all those things I just said.”
Chanyeol’s brow furrowed. “But, why? I’m none of those things. I’m weak and tired and always scared, Kris.” He cleared his throat, burying his face in Yifan’s chest. “Being around you is the first time I’ve ever felt safe. I’m none of those things without you.”
Yifan found Chanyeol’s hand beneath the sheets, lacing their fingers and kissing Chanyeol on the forehead. “It suits you, xiao Canlie, trust me.”
Chanyeol shifted against him but didn’t say anything.
“Sleep, Yeol,” Yifan said softly, holding Chanyeol close.
Allowing himself this, to have Chanyeol and grow something with him, was putting them both in incredible danger, but he couldn’t bring himself to fight it anymore. Not when Chanyeol’s happiness was radiating through their bond, warming Yifan from the core out.
No, he decided, it was worth the risk. If it would make him as happy as he felt right now, always, then it was definitely worth the risk.
He slipped into sleep with the weight of Chanyeol on his chest, their heartbeats echoing together.
“Wow, this place is huge,” Sehun remarked as Zitao lead him to the west wing stairs.
Or at least, that’s what Zitao thought he said. His grasp of the Korean language was tenuous at best, but Sehun didn’t seem to realize or care that Zitao didn’t appear to be listening to him. He just kept talking.
Zitao wished Luhan was with them. Luhan always knew what to do with people. But Luhan had bolted from the room the moment they were free to go. Not that Zitao could really blame him. He’d want to run too if the person who had appeared in his bed had showed up out of nowhere.
Still, he needed to do this. He couldn’t explain it, but somehow he knew that Sehun was important in some way.
They arrived at the first room in the west wing, and Zitao opened the door to the room, gesturing for Sehun to enter. Sehun said something way too fast for Zitao to even hope to understand, and Zitao gave him a confused look and shrugged his shoulders.
Sehun looked at him in confusion for a moment before realization dawned.
“What is your name?” he asked, slowly and clearly, enunciating his syllables.
Oh, well that was simple. “Zitao,” he replied.
Sehun said something else that sounded like a, “Nice to meet you,” and held out his hand for Zitao to shake.
Shrugging, Zitao reached out and clasped his hand.
Time froze around them, sealing them in a suspended moment, and wind suddenly swirled around them, whipping their hair around their faces.
Zitao locked gazes with Sehun, and everything clicked into place.
“Baek, baby, you got a text.”
Baekhyun turned toward the sound of Yixing’s voice, casting his power out to find Yixing in the darkness of his mind. “From?”
Yixing moved closer until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. This close, Baekhyun’s power could add detail to the features of Yixing’s figure. He watched as Yixing’s brow furrowed while he struggled to read the message in Korean. His spoken Korean was getting much better, but he still struggled to read it sometimes. As it was, when they were alone they mostly spoke in a cobbled together combination of both their languages.
His shoulders shifted slightly, and Baekhyun became aware of the fact that Yixing was shirtless, halfway through changing for bed before he noticed the text, probably. Baekhyun crawled across the bed until he could wind his arms around Yixing from behind, his hands tracing over the ridges of his abdomen and chest.
“He says he’s an old friend of yours? Taehyung?”
It took Baekhyun a moment to place the name before he remembered Taehyung’s smile—so like his own that they got teased for it in high school—and bounced in excitement. “Oh! He’s an old friend from high school. We lost touch after we graduated. I think he went to a school in Busan. What does he want?”
Yixing frowned at his phone again for another moment. “He wants…to get lunch? And catch up. Sometime in the next week.”
Baekhyun smiled at the thought. “Will you respond to him and ask him which day works next week? I want to meet up with him. You’ll come with me, right? I’ll need someone who can actually see to come with me.”
Yixing turned to frown at him. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, baby. We’re in a lot of danger right now—you especially, since you were almost captured once already.”
Baekhyun shrugged. “Then invite him to come here! That way I don’t have to leave, and everyone else will be here, so I’ll be safe if something bad happens.” Yixing blinked at him, unconvinced. “Babe, it’s Taehyung. He’s harmless. It’ll be fine.” He pouted. “Please?”
Yixing sighed, and Baekhyun knew that he’d just won. “Okay, fine. But we clear it with Yifan and Junmyeon before we set anything into stone.”
Baekhyun smiled. “Deal.” He waited patiently while Yixing responded, asking for a day and time, and then knocked his phone out of Yixing’s hands once the message was sent. “Now, come here and kiss me to sleep,” Baekhyun said, pulling Yixing further onto the bed and down over him, sinking his fingers into the soft hair at the back of Yixing’s neck.
“Anything, xiao Buoxian,” Yixing whispered, a second before their lips met.
Jongin teleported directly from the mansion into his and Taemin’s bedroom, desperate to have Taemin in his arms again.
Taemin was sitting up in bed, flipping through his tarot deck. He looked up at the sound of Jongin arriving in their room, immediately dropping his cards and jumping up to run to Jongin.
“Tae,” he whispered, cupping Taemin’s jaw and kissing him deeply, slowly, more to reassure himself that Taemin was there, real and solid in his arms.
“Baby?” Taemin asked, pulling back and running a hand through Jongin’s hair. “Nini what happened?”
“I went where the wind told me, I followed the advice you gave me…”
“And?” Taemin prompted when Jongin lost his words. Concern radiated from his eyes as he looked up at Jongin with worry.
“And I found a mansion full of people like me.” He swallowed, pulling Taemin against him and burying his face in the silver strands of his hair. “People with power.”
Taemin ran soothing hands up and down Jongin’s back. “Isn’t that a good thing?”
It was, truly. But… “He was there, Taemin.”
“Who?” Taemin stepped out of Jongin’s hold to gently start ridding him of his clothes. “Talk to me Nini.”
“The guy, the one I teleported into bed with?” He was spared seeing Taemin’s reaction to that statement as his shirt came off, momentarily blocking his line of sight.
“So, he wasn’t in China?” Taemin seemed unconcerned when Jongin could look at him again. “That’s a relief, at least you’re not teleporting all over the world in your sleep.”
“No,” Jongin said slowly, as Taemin yanked his pants down, urging him to step out of them before pulling him toward their bed in nothing but his boxers.
“What’s his name?” Taemin coaxed Jongin beneath the sheets, reaching over to click off their bedside lamp before curling into Jongin’s side.
“It’s Luhan. He’s Chinese, and he lives there with the rest of them.” He pulled Taemin onto his chest, his fingers grasping at the soft material of Taemin’s henley sleep-shirt. “They invited us to move in with them. They have room, apparently.”
“And what did you say?”
Jongin snorted. “I said no. I didn’t want to commit to anything without talking to you first.”
Taemin stretched up and kissed him, smiling against his lips. “I know.”
Of course, he knew. Taemin always knew. Sometimes it was frustrating having a seer for a boyfriend. Keeping his birthday presents a secret was downright impossible. “Oh, they also mentioned that you were working with Hechul? Somehow Sehun knew that?”
He felt Taemin shrug in the dark. “That’s fine. He’s well connected in the gifted community, for a normie. If Sehun knows the right people, it’s not unusual for him to know my name.”
“They also want to have another meeting at nine tomorrow. Will you come?”
Taemin hummed. “I think that would be good.”
“Okay,” Jongin sighed, something tight in his chest easing.
“Sleep now, Nini,” Taemin whispered, reaching up to run his fingers through Jongin’s hair, soothing him into sleep.
Kyungsoo traced the faded scar over the bridge of Jongdae’s nose lightly with one finger, hesitant not to wake him but wanting to feel the softness of his skin despite the scaring.
It was early in the morning, light gradually filling the room as the sun rose above the horizon, a hazy purple-grey light suffusing the room as Kyungsoo watched Jongdae sleep. He’d woken not long ago, worry keeping him from sleeping as deeply as he would have liked, and he absently traced the lines of Jongdae’s scars as he lay next to him.
It seemed like more people kept filling the empty rooms of the house, and while it was certainly large enough to house all them, Kyungsoo was going to miss the quiet. Moments like this, when the world was quiet and still, were what he craved most. Time for him to sort through his feelings and emotions and examine what he really felt and thought.
He missed his mother.
That was at the forefront, his most pressing emotion still grief. He knew it would be for a while still, but the intensity of his grief had subsided to a dull ache that was constant but bearable, no longer all-consuming. And in the spaces where the grief had ebbed away was something new, a lighter feeling he associated with the man sleeping next to him.
Jongdae’s nose scrunched up in his sleep.
Kyungsoo’s fingers stilled on his neck, still absently tracing the pattern of scars that had faded to pale lines across the bronze of Jongdae’s skin, stark in the contrast. He thought about Jongdae’s quiet friendship, how gently he’d offered Kyungsoo comfort simply by being present. He never pushed Kyungsoo to talk or made him feel like he needed to offer Jongdae anything more than who he was.
Kyungsoo trailed his fingers lightly over the bump of Jongdae’s collarbone, smiling slightly when the scrunch of Jongdae’s nose eased away.
The sun slowly rose over the earth, purples and greys giving way to the golds of morning as Kyungsoo thought about everything he’d lost, and the few precious things he’d gained.
Jongdae yawned, waking, and Kyungsoo breathed.
Chanyeol was burning.
Altogether, not an unusual sensation to wake up to first thing in the morning (he’d once nearly burned his sheets after having a very…hot dream), but it was strange to wake up and have someone else be the cause.
He stretched, feeling muscles twinge in protest and taking note of a very warm, very heavy arm around his waist. The previous night came flooding back to him, memories of the hand twitching gently against his stomach pinning him to the floor made him squirm beneath the sheets. But Kris slept like the dead, apparently, since Chanyeol’s movements hadn’t woken him at all, so Chanyeol quietly traced his fingers over the marks winding up Kris’s forearm.
He remembered the night he gave those marks to Kris. Then, and last night, he’d been too focused on other things to pay much attention to what his fire had done to Kris, but now he had time to observe, and his breath caught in his throat as he realized what he was tracing over.
Burns shaped like feathers wound up his forearm, the lines a vivid red and gold that shimmered like glowing embers against his skin. He quickly held out his right arm in front of his eyes, gasping softly when he took in the pattern on his arm.
A dragon wound its way up his arm, the lines a shimmering match to the color of Kris’s burn. It was intricate, breathtaking, and definitely not what it had looked like before last night. It wasn’t the only thing that had changed since last night.
He knew when Kris was waking up—not because of a shift in his breathing, or a tightening of his arm around Chanyeol’s waist, although those both happened. No, he knew because emotions that weren’t his began to filter sleepily to him. He rolled over as Kris blinked awake.
“Good morning, Kris,” Chanyeol said softly, reaching up to run his thumb over the stern arch of his eyebrow.
Kris caught his wrist, placing a lingering kiss to Chanyeol’s palm. A rush of contentment warmed Chanyeol’s body, making his eyes widen in surprise. “Good morning, Canlie.”
“Are these feelings…from you?” Chanyeol asked, not quite understanding where the fuzzy warmth filling him up was coming from.
Kris hummed in response. “That’s the bond, the thing you kept talking about that was between us that you couldn’t explain? It solidified last night.” He kissed Chanyeol softly. “It lets us feel each other’s stronger emotions—a few weeks ago Baekhyun got seriously injured and Yixing knew the second it happened. It’s useful.”
“Baekhyun and Yixing are…”
“Like us, yes. Although their bond is no doubt different in what it can do. They don’t have these, for example,” Kris said, holding up their arms that had matching burns. “This is unique to us.” He frowned in thought. “It’s unique to bonds too, I think.”
“What do you mean?” Chanyeol shuffled closer, craving the feeling of Kris’s skin against his.
Kris looked at him thoughtfully. “After my mother told me about the bonds that can form between people like us—gifted, powerful—I researched what I could. While finding a partner is incredibly rare, bonds like ours are for life. It’s rare that people without gifts actually find theirs, but some do, although they don’t form a physical bond like ours.”
“Then how did we find each other?” Chanyeol asked. It was making sense now, why he felt so compelled to talk to Kris when he saw him in that club.
Kris shrugged, one of his thumbs stroking over Chanyeol’s cheek. “It’s much more likely that you’ll find your partner if you’re gifted, since it’s more often that you’re stronger together than apart. The magic pulls you together, I suppose.”
Chanyeol nodded slowly, absorbing everything. “But I’m in more danger now?” he asked, recalling what Kris had said last night.
Kris’s arms tightened around him, protectiveness surging through their bond. “Not if I can help it.”
Chanyeol smiled, moving in to kiss Kris deeply, winding his arms around his neck and rolling Kris onto his back so he could hover above him, shivering as Kris ran large hands over his skin.
“Hey Yifan, we want to talk to you before—what the fuck?”
Kris groaned while Chanyeol sat up off him and looked over his shoulder to see two people he recognized from last night frozen two feet into the room.
“Minseok, Junmyeon,” Kris said, sitting up slowly. “What can I help you with?”
The one with pink hair—Minseok, Chanyeol’s brain supplied—pointed between him and Kris. “What happened here?”
Kris raised an eyebrow, sending a pointed look at the vivid purple mark on Junmyeon’s neck. “What happened there?”
Junmyeon—the one with hair the color of the night sky—slapped a hand over the hickey below his ear.
“Point taken,” Minseok relented. “What do we need to go over at the meeting this morning?”
Kris huffed. “Everything. Safety, rules, general ways to—”
“Excuse me,” Junmyeon interjected, “but what the hell is that?” Chanyeol followed his outstretched finger to the scorch mark on the floor in the shape of Chanyeol’s hand. “Would you care to explain how you scorched my custom wood flooring?”
Chanyeol hid his face in his hands. Amusement from Kris crawled up his throat, making him giggle softly.
“Do you want me to spell it out for you, Junmyeon?” Kris asked.
“Yifan, please refrain from damaging my boyfriend’s house in the future,” Minseok said, sounding resigned. “Just…put some clothes on and get downstairs. You have ten minutes.”
Chanyeol didn’t lower his hands until he heard the door close behind them.
“Well, that went well,” Kris drawled, pulling Chanyeol close and kissing him on the side of his neck.
Chanyeol giggled again, leaning his head back onto Kris’s shoulder. “Hey,” he started after a moment, “should I call you Yifan? That’s your name, right?” At Kris’s silence he explained further. “You told me your name was Kris when we met, but then last night I learned your name was actually Yifan.”
Kris chuckled. “Call me either. When I lived in Canada during middle school that’s what I went by there.”
“Okay.” Chanyeol smiled. “You have a special name for me, so Kris is my special name for you, now.”
Kris hummed, warmth and happiness flooding through him—both Kris’s and his. They needed to get up, but surely they could spend a few more moments like this, warm in each other’s arms.
there were originally two sex scenes in this chapter but,,,the xiuho one felt like too much for one chapter, so I took it out. It'll be posted as another work in this series, so feel free to read it if you'd like, however you aren't missing much if you don't want to read it ^^
I'll see you once I finish chapter ten! <3
P.S. my dearest cinny drew art for this chapter. You can find it here.