Chapter 1
Notes:
Edit 2024: I'm a horrible person for leaving this for so long, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. There are changes here, but there isn't anything majorly altering the plot.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jongin and Chanyeol were walking around the perimeter of their most recent hiding place. The new hideout was by far the best one they had stayed at since landing on this godforsaken planet. Nestled in a remote area, the abandoned mansion had a somewhat eerie charm to it, with its crumbling façade and ivy creeping up the walls. It likely belonged to a health-obsessed millionaire or perhaps a closeted medicine junkie, given the extensive medical supplies they had uncovered inside. The property boasted a six-foot high wall-like fence adorned with spiralling metal spikes on top. While they were more for decoration than any real deterrent, the spikes did add a layer of difficulty for anyone attempting to scale the walls. It had a full security system that Jongdae had no trouble hijacking and making functional again. The flickering lights of the security cameras had given them a sense of security that they hadn't felt in months. It was a thrill to see the old technology spring back to life, and Jongdae wore his victory like a badge of honour. The basement was a true treasure trove. They found cabinets brimming with basic medical equipment and enough medicine to last them at least six months with average usage for all of them. Next to the kitchen, they had discovered a pantry stocked with a month’s worth of dry and long-lasting foods, a luxury that meant they wouldn’t have to scavenge for supplies as often. It made their current situation feel almost…normal.
The sheer space of the mansion was perhaps the most welcomed aspect of their new hideout. They finally had enough room to spread out and even enjoy some privacy. There were enough bedrooms with actual beds that they only had to share in pairs. They gladly let Yixing win the sole single room, as a thank you token for keeping them healthy and alive for so long. Yixing's delight in having a space to call his own, complete with the faint scent of lavender still lingering in the air from the previous owner’s failed attempts at aromatherapy, was wonderfully infectious. They had also repurposed a room that had once been a private gym. It had seen better days, but with some effort, they turned it into a training area for hand-to-hand combat. The mirrors on the walls had long been cracked and were murky with dust, but they provided a nostalgic touch. They finally could practise their skills without worrying about being overheard or interrupted. And to top it all off, there was even room stocked with the medical supplies they had salvaged they turned into an infirmary.
It was heaven compared to the last hideout where they slept on matts in one big space that was always too cold and damp. Back then, they had played rock-paper-scissors to see who would get to sleep next to Chanyeol, a comforting warmth radiating off of him craved by all during the long, sleepless nights. During that time they could only dream of a hot shower that didn’t involve a hasty hose down administered by their leader. The memories of how close they had been to Red Force’s territory, with every little noise making them flinch and grip their weapons tightly, seemed like a distant nightmare. Now, they could finally breathe a little easier.
Jongin stretched, raising his hands high above his head and yawning widely, the sound echoing softly in the late evening air. He jumped a couple of times in place to try and keep alert. Chanyeol, walking beside him, shot him a playful glare for making him yawn as well, a shared fatigue passing between them.
“Thanks for that,” Chanyeol hummed under his breath, rolling his eyes dramatically. The slight teasing made Jongin chuckle, lightening the mood even further.
“Sorry! Didn’t mean to make you yawn,” Jongin replied, his voice light and playful. He nudged Chanyeol with his shoulder, a grin spreading across his face.
“Do you think Junmyeon-hyung will let me jump to Red Force’s territory to get us some new clothes?” Jongin asked, his eyes gleaming with a mix of excitement and mischief. He tugged on Chanyeol’s arm to guide him to the left when he almost tripped over a stray rock. “I know it would still be dangerous to go alone, but I can’t take anyone else with me yet. I wish I knew how the clone does it… Anyway going through the border is worse than letting me jump to the middle of nowhere, but on their side. It’s kind of sad that only in Red Force’s territory do things still function kind of normally.”, he pouted “Our things are getting worn down, man. How many times has Minseok hyung mended your shirts? Or my pants for that matter?”
Chanyeol chuckled, shaking his head. “Admit it, you just want some pretty clothes to look nice in from time to time. Even if they’re mended, the ones we have are still functional, and I don’t think new ones are worth the risk. Besides, if you want them bad enough, just pout at him hard enough. Get Sehunnie to back you up, and our esteemed leader will probably let you go.”
He grinned at Jongin, knowing full well how persuasive the younger boy could be with his puppy-dog eyes. “Although he’ll definitely fuss afterward and be insufferable when you’re absent.” Chanyeol added, a teasing lilt in his voice.
Jongin pouted, opening his mouth to retort, but before he could get a word out, a heavy thunk echoed from just behind the corner of the mansion. The sound jolted them both upright, their earlier banter forgotten in an instant. All the relaxation in Jongin’s limbs evaporated as they exchanged quick, cautious glances. Something was off.
“What was that?” Chanyeol whispered, tension coiling in his chest as they moved closer to investigate. Their minds raced with possibilities. The speculations ran wildly through their heads, guessing it could be a roof tile or a couple that had fallen, although the sound was too dull for that, or perhaps loose plaster peeling away from the walls.
“Maybe some wild animal broke in looking for scraps of food,” Jongin suggested hesitantly, a nervous edge creeping into his voice. The thought of a bear appearing out of nowhere sent a shiver down his spine. “I really don’t want to come face to face with one of those right now.”
No matter the guess, they definitely were not prepared for what they saw. The moment the dull creepy eyes locked in with Chanyeol's, flames were already licking at his forearms and one ball of flames was in a second hurling at the hunched over figure.
In front of them were two of the clones, both looking rough. Bloodied, battered with torn clothing, both barely standing on their feet while their breathing was shallow and ragged, heard even from the distance. Jongin recognized his own face in the mirror image before him, but it was twisted in pain and desperation. His clone was cradling Sehun’s double, struggling to keep him upright, and with each unsteady step, he positioned himself defensively in front of the unconscious body, shielding him from their gaze. Jongin’s clone took one look at his injured companion, and a whine slipped from chapped lips - a raw, guttural animalistic cry, something half-gurgled, filled with agony. The sound made Jongin stagger a little at the unexpected vulnerability. A blaze from Chanyeol’s hand shot past them, just close enough to singe Jongin’s clone’s collarbone. He didn’t flinch, barely seemed to notice, only curling protectively around the fallen clone, stepping slightly in front of the other, his face twisted with an emotion that was almost feral in its intensity. Chanyeol bared his teeth at the clones in a silent snarl and jerked his head towards the mension, a silent command for Jongin to go and rally the others. Fire danced on Chanyeol arms as he readied to throw another fireball, eyes flickering with orange light casting his face in an eerie shadow. Jongin was ready to dematerialise and do as he was ordered, but before he could do that, the sight stopped him dead in his tracks.
He saw his clone crumbling to his knees. Too injured or sick to hold himself up much less support another in his arms. With trembling fingers, he held his companion close, pressing their foreheads together as though he could somehow share his strength. Tears streamed down his cheeks, carving clean lines through the grime, and Jongin watched, transfixed, as the clone nudged his face against his companion’s cheek in a desperate, broken gesture of affection. Grimy hand franatically petting face and hair. A pang shot through Jongin’s heart, unexpected and sharp.
Jongin barely registered as he instinctively tugged Chanyeol's arm away as he let the next scorching ball of flame fly. The fireball veered off course, flying barely a couple centimetres over the clone's head. Jongin's clone flinched as the heat swept near him, his body curling tighter over Sehun's double’s limp form, eyes squeezed shut bracing for impact and the consecutive pain that didn’t arrive.
“ Please . Help.”, he rasped, voice rough and broken. The words were barely loud enough to hear from where Jongin and Chanyeol stood, jagged and raw. The two EXOs exchanged stunned glances, speechless that the teleporting clone was capable of mostly coherent speech. They were always under the impression that he was the most unhinged of the lot, the loyal dog. Only intelligent enough for cruelty and following orders. The most insane.
The clone’s eyes darted frantically between Jongin and Chanyeol as he struggled to stay conscious, fingers clawing into the muddy ground. But his strength faltered, his body collapsing over Sehun’s as if even in his final moments he could still protect him. His head dropped, chin resting against his companion’s shoulder, and he went limp, his last breath a warm whisper against the other clone's cheek.
Flabbergasted they looked at each other and then almost simultaneously sighed. Jongin blinked as if to shake off the tension that hung heavy in the air. He looked hesitantly at Chanyeol, who just gave him a silent meek nod in replay. Without another word, Jongin turned and teleported to the foyer of the mansion, hand shaking as he pressed the doorbell repeatedly. The echoes of the chimes filled the empty hall until, finally, he heard footsteps and voices layered over one another, loud and chaotic, as the rest of the team rushed down to meet him. Jongin’s mouth felt dry as he tried to find the right words, as seven faces filled with worry stared at him. His mind still reeling from the scene he had left behind. He took a breath, steadying himself.
“We... we might have a problem”, he finally managed, his voice strained but resolute.
They decided to set them up in the infirmary for the time being. The room was dimly lit, filled with an eerie silence that was interrupted only by occasional pained groans. Yixing, with Minseok’s help, set to work assessing and bandaging the worst of the injuries. Methodically checking over the battered figures.
Their youngest's clone had the most life threatening wound. He had a large gash slicing diagonally across his back. The wound was deep, the skin ragged where something sharp had torn through, likely a blade or shrapnel. Hot to touch from the beginnings of an infection as blood sluggishly trickled from it, soaking the provisional dressing that most likely one of them applied. His temple bore another wound: a gash running along the side of his head, raw and bruised, with dried blood matting his hair. Yixing muttered under his breath as he carefully cleaned and freshly bandaged everything, weaving healing energy into each gesture. His left hand also had a pierced wound through the palm, where a bullet had likely torn through flesh and tendon, leaving the hand swollen and discoloured with bones slightly exposed in the gore. His breaths came shallowly, and Yixing frowned as he pressed lightly on the clone’s ribs, feeling a slight give. Yixing suspected a cracked rib that, if left untreated, could shift dangerously, piercing into his lung.
Jongin's clone on the other hand had wound up at their doors with fewer if still painful injuries. His right side bore a sluggishly bleeding gash where a bullet had grazed him, and Yixing could feel the tension in the clone’s muscles each time he cleaned around it, as if even unconscious, his body was on high alert. Yixing steadied his hands and carefully pressed around the wound, fingers brushing over the torn flesh until he felt the hard edge of the bullet lodged just beneath the skin. Using sterilised tweezers, he eased the bullet fragment out in a slow, deliberate motion, blood oozing around it as he gently coaxed it free. The clone's body tensed even more, muscles twitching reflexively, as if sensing the pain despite being unconscious, but Yixing worked quickly, cleaning the wound immediately after the fragment slipped out.
Next on the list was the burn marks. The clone’s right collarbone was mottled red, blistered from a burn that covered a patch just shy of his collarbone, skin cracked and raw with blisters already forming. Yixing was glad that this particular clone was almost allergic to clothes, so he didn't need to worry about fabric melted into flesh with the deep neckline of the leather jacket. Minseok cooled the area with careful fingers, applying a balm as he went while murmuring reassurances almost absent mindedly, even though he knew the clone couldn’t hear. Both of the clone’s hands were battered, fingers swollen and bruised, and Yixing noted at least three fractured bones in his left hand and at least two sprained in his right. He set the injured hands as best as he could.
The two of them tended to each wound as they went. The minutes ticked into hours as they worked in tense silence, each taking extra care to ensure the clones remained stable but restrained, just in case they woke and tried to fight. Yixing’s hands glowed faintly with energy, knitting the worst of the gashes and fractures to at least prevent immediate mortal peril, while Minseok’s steady hands wrapped gauze over the raw burn and tended to the grazed wound, staunching the blood flow. When they finally stepped back, exhaustion evident in their faces, both clones were pale but relatively stable, lying still on the cots, their breaths shallow but even.
It had taken them nearly five hours to settle the two clones in, ensuring the injuries were under control, and they wouldn’t make any sudden movements if they awoke. Worn out and unsettled, the group gathered in the security room at Jongdae’s suggestion, each carrying the weight of the last few hours in tense shoulders and worried expressions. They cramped into the small space, almost shoulder-to-shoulder as some of them took the available seats around the flickering screens. The silence stretched on, growing thick and uncomfortable as they avoided looking directly at one another.
Junmyeon was the first one to break the stifling silence that was slowly becoming uncomfortable.
“Alright,” he began, looking from Chanyeol to Jongin. “So, now that we’re somewhat set, can you go over what happened again? Step by step.”
Chanyeol glanced over at Jongin, who was anxiously biting at his nails, his eyes cast downward with Baekhyun rubbing his waist in gentle circles to try and comfort him. Baekhyun shot Chanyeol a meaningful look, urging him to start, and with a resigned sigh, Chanyeol began.
“We were out on patrol,” he explained, his voice unusually quiet. “Checking our usual spots, making sure the gate was locked up, the buildings weren’t falling apart. It’s… honestly, we do this almost every day. It’s become a routine, like our time to just talk, wind down, you know? We don’t expect much to go wrong. Maybe that’s why we weren’t really ready for this.” Chanyeol’s shoulders sagged slightly, his gaze dropping to his shoes, a hint of shame crossing his face. “I guess I should’ve been more on guard,” he added, almost to himself.
Jongin picked up from there, his voice quiet and a little hesitant
“We heard some noise ahead of us. Not loud, more like… shuffling, a dull thud. I thought maybe an animal broke in with how close we are to the forest or something fell off the roof." He swallowed, hands twisting together. "So we went to check and found them there.”
“They already looked like that when we found them,” Chanyeol continued, glancing at Jongin, who nodded in agreement. “Maybe, uh, minus the scorch mark on Jongin’s clone’s shoulder. I might have done that in the moment,” he admitted with a sheepish shrug, scratching at the back of his neck as he avoided their gazes. He felt a little guilty in hindsight. “But we weren’t able to ask them anything. Jongin’s double was the only one still conscious, and…” He paused, as if trying to find the right words. “He actually begged us to help them. Before he passed out. I didn’t even know he could speak.”
The room fell silent, the weight of Chanyeol’s words settling over them all. Jongdae exhaled softly, crossing his arms as he processed what he’d heard. After a beat, he looked up, breaking the silence.
“So the question should be now not if we are helping, but how we are helping. If they asked for help we shouldn’t kick them out for dead. That would just be bad.”, he said firmly
But Sehun scoffed, cutting through Jongdae’s words with a bitter edge. “I don’t know if you forgot, hyung, but those two and their group have nearly killed us. Not once or twice, but on multiple occasions,” he said, voice low but heated. “Because of them, Minseokkie hyung and Kyungsoo hyung were laid up for days. Even with Yixing hyung’s healing, they were out of commission for a long time. Not to mention what happened to me. You really think we should be giving them sympathy?”
He jabbed a finger at the screen where the clones were still lying unconscious.
“Look at them,” he spat, voice tight with rage. “Those monsters are responsible for over two hundred injured civilians in the past couple of months. And that is just what we are sure of. And I wouldn’t put it past them to have caused that school collapse in the 7th district.” His eyes burned, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. “People died there, Jongdae. Kids. Innocent people! And you’re really standing here, suggesting we help them? After everything?” His voice dropped to a cold, bitter edge. “They’ve got blood on their hands, innocent blood and they relish in it.”
“Sehunnie, we’re not defending what they’ve done,” Junmyeon said, his voice steady but tinged with sympathy. “But this is war. We all know what that means, horrible things happen, and sometimes people are following orders they don’t get to question. The Red Force has its claws in them; I wouldn’t be surprised if they were brainwashed from day one to obey without a second thought. If they showed up here like this, something big must have gone wrong.”
Junmyeon’s tone was gentle, almost pleading, but Sehun only shook his head, the sharpness in his gaze never wavering. He kept his eyes locked on the monitor, where the two injured clones were, both unconscious.
Minseok leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching Sehun’s reaction. “It might still be a trap,” he said quietly, with a thoughtful, cautious tone. “Their injuries are real enough, but there’s a chance they inflicted them on themselves to earn a little sympathy. Let us patch them up, let down our guard, and then they turn on us the second we blink. Or worse: they call in the rest to finish us off while we’re sleeping.”
Baekhyun shifted, his arms curled around Jongin’s waist from behind, chin resting on his shoulder, as he cuddled closely to comfort their teleporter. Out of everyone, he looked the calmest, maybe even a bit relaxed, as if this conflict didn’t weigh as heavily on him. “True,” he added with a slight sigh, his voice soft but resigned. “If we’re helping them - and let’s face it, we’re already leaning that way, then we can’t just leave them on their own. Not without some way to keep an eye on them.”
Sehun sneered at that, lip curled in irritation.
“We can’t have Yixing hyung healing them with his powers. He’ll drain himself, and then what will happen when it inevitably turns out to be a trap? We’d be left without a healer, completely vulnerable. And if we’re supposed to keep monitoring them, who’s sleeping and when? Are we really risking exhaustion just so we’re sitting ducks when they wake up and turn on us?”
Kyungsoo sighed, but nodded in agreement. "Sehun’s right,” he said, glancing at Junmyeon, his tone matter-of-fact. “We can’t afford to let Yixing exhaust himself for this. Let them heal up the normal way: with time and bandages. Meanwhile, we’ll monitor them in shifts. A steady rotation every four or five hours should be enough so everyone can keep their usual schedules and still get some rest.”
Jongdae cleared his throat, stepping forward to keep the planning on track. “We’ll decide how to handle it once they’re awake,” he said with a nod, clapping his hands once to refocus everyone. “Sounds good? All in favour?”
Around the room, the team gave murmurs of assent, each acknowledging the compromise. Junmyeon’s eyes lingered on Sehun, silently pleading for him to acquiesce to the plan. Sehun sighed, the stubborn anger softening as he held Junmyeon’s gaze, the glint of frustration still present but tempered by the silent conversation they shared with just that look. He gave a small, begrudging nod, lips pressed tightly, but it was enough for Junmyeon, who relaxed with the faintest sigh of relief.
With that settled, they quickly organised a schedule for clone-sitting, everyone taking their shift and leaving Yixing with the first watch to keep the clones stable. They’d need his trained eye to ensure the clones didn’t slip into any kind of crisis before anyone else came on duty.
As everyone dispersed to their rooms, Junmyeon lingered, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze Sehun’s shoulder before they headed to their shared quarters. “Thank you for agreeing,” he said softly, his tone laced with relief and a touch of pride. “I know it’s a lot to ask, and if I thought there was a better way…”
Sehun cut him off, the corners of his mouth pulled downwards slightly. “I trust you, Junmyeon. But don’t expect me to forgive them so easily or be happy with the situation. You’re lucky I love you enough that I even agreed to this.”
It took two long, agonising days for any progress to show. By the end of the first day, they had hooked the clones up to IVs, pumping fluids and nutrients into their frail bodies. Around eight hours after the IVs were administered, Sehun reported that Jongin’s creepy version was clenching his fists and his eyes were moving under the eyelids. Sehun’s own clone was as unresponsive and unmoving as ever. It was around the fifty-hour mark since they showed up when one of them woke up.
It was Baekhyun’s turn to monitor the patients, and he was perched on the edge of his chair, attention split between the book he took to occupy his time and the unconscious clones. He noticed the rapid movement of Jongin’s clone’s eyes and the way his fists clenched, the tension in his body palpable. Suddenly, the clone sluggishly opened his eerie pale eyes, disoriented, letting his head roll aimlessly as he tried to take in his surroundings. When his eyes fell on the IV he suddenly tensed up, muscles coiling like a spring. Baekhyun put away the book and began to stand, raising his hands in a placating gesture. He was ready to deescalate the situation if things took a turn. But as he shifted, the chair creaked under him, causing the clone’s unnatural eyes to snap to him like a predator spotting its prey.
Baekhyun had seen Jongin teleport thousands of times, but this was nothing like that. Jongin's form during the process looked graceful, as if he was falling apart into tiny molecules that drifted away for a second, an illusion of a dust cloud after he was no longer there. This looked nothing like that. This was a chaotic blur of movement that left Baekhyun momentarily stunned. Baekhyun watched as if the clones figure started to blur, as if he had suddenly a ten times worse eyesight but only for this one particular person and then he wasn’t on the bed anymore but on top of Baekhyun, straddling him and with his hands going for the unprotected throat.
The whole process didn't take more than a split second. However, just as the clone was about to make contact with the skin, he faltered and started blinking sluggishly, confusion clouding his eerie gaze as he focused on Baekhyun’s face. Instead of aggression, his arms fell limp, and then, to Baekhyun’s astonishment, the clone threw them around him in a mock-hug. It felt less like an attack and more like a child clinging to their parent. It was disconcerting. He was shaking and from what Baekhyun could see he was paler than a couple of minutes ago. The jump probably took a toll on the still sick body.
Before Baekhyun could even process the shock of having a grown man suddenly on top of him, the clone tensed up again, looming over him, and Baekhyun’s nerves began to fray. He was starting to get irritated. He didn’t have his rapier on him but he was certain that he could blind the other and throw him off of him if it came down to it. It shouldn't be a big problem, not with the state that the clone was still in. He felt exposed, vulnerable, and it set his teeth on edge.
Once again the clone was studying his face, this time from a much closer distance. The creepy eyes were snapping rapidly to random face futures before the hands previously behind his head cupped his face turning it from side to side. Then as Baekhyun started to get really fed up with this treatment and was contemplating pushing the clone off him for real, in an alarmingly gentle gesture, the clone's thumbs swiped from his nose bridge along his cheekbones and then to his temple. The clone’s expression shifted then, turning unbelievably sad, and before Baekhyun could react, the clone blurred out of sight again. A heartbeat later, he reappeared back on the bed, sitting cross-legged with his back hunched over, staring intently at the other clone still unconscious on the adjacent bed. The contrast between his previous aggression and this almost childlike demeanour left Baekhyun unsettled. He watched, his heart racing, as the clone’s expression morphed into something sorrowful and lost, the remnants of their earlier confrontation lingering in the air like a haunting spectre.
“So you decided that the first thing after waking up is to jump one of the people who were making sure you didn’t die these past couple of days? Should have seen that one coming. Should have left you two for dead with that kind of gratitude.” The words were meant to come out teasing, a playful jab that would usually fit right in among the camaraderie he shared with his brothers in arms. But now, faced with a recently ex-enemy, Baekhyun’s voice came out shaky, dripping with bitterness and an accusatory edge that he hadn’t intended. The clone’s unblinking eyes widened, clearly confused, and for a moment, it felt like the room held its breath.
After that statement the clone's head snapped back to attention, unblinking eyes meeting his. For a split second, devastation flared across the clone's features, a raw and unguarded expression that took Baekhyun by surprise. The clone quickly glanced in the direction of the figure on the other bed before turning back, desperation swirling in those haunting eyes. The clone opened his mouth as if to say something before cringing, visibly pained. Shakily began to move, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and practically throwing himself onto the floor. Alarmed, Baekhyun jumped up to catch him, but it was futile. The clone curled into a tight ball, bowing low to the ground, as if trying to make himself as small as possible in a form slightly resembling a crude full bow.
“Sorry. Sorry. Please help. Sorry. I do good. I’m not bad. Please help Sehůn. I leave if you upset. Please help Sehůn.” The words tumbled out in a frantic rush, raspy and strained, each syllable seeming to cause him agony. Baekhyun grimaced, crouching in front of the clone.
“There, there,” he murmured, attempting to soothe him as he gently petted the clone’s back, feeling the tremors rippling beneath his palm. “I was just joking. We’re not throwing you out after all the resources we spent to keep you two alive. Come on, let’s get you back on the bed.” He reached out, trying to help him up, but the clone continued to mutter a litany of apologies, his voice shaking with each breath.
“I don’t want to wake Yixing hyung to redo your stitches,” Baekhyun shushed gently, his own frustration melting into concern. The clone looked paler than before, drenched in sweat as he allowed Baekhyun to manhandle him back toward the bed.
Once there, Baekhyun cupped the clone's forehead and cheeks, the heat radiating from him alarming. It felt uncomfortably similar to when he held Chanyeol’s face, a wave of dread washing over him at the thought.
“Either you have a fever, or you clones run warmer than we do, which wouldn’t make any sense, now would it?” he muttered, more to himself than to the clone. Baekhyun’s brow furrowed as he assessed the clone’s condition. The more he looked, the worse the other appeared.
“And yep, fever. Fuck our lives, right?” Baekhyun muttered, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. “I’m going to have to cuff you to the bed, okay? It wouldn’t stop you from teleporting, but I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to blink anywhere in this state anyway.” He shot a quick glance at the unblinking eyes that followed his every move, their confusion evident. “Just… you wait here. Be good or something. Don’t die.” With a firm nod, he tied one arm to the bed frame, securing it with a gentle yet purposeful knot.
As he did, he noticed the clone murmuring something unintelligible under his breath, perhaps a plea for help or a remnant of whatever fever dream was clouding his mind. Without wasting another moment, he practically sprinted down the corridor to Yixing’s room, the urgency fueling his adrenaline. He burst in, apologies tumbling from his lips as he shook the healer awake. “Sorry! I’m so sorry for waking you up, but I really need your help! It’s urgent!”
Even in his dishevelled state, Yixing sprang into action as soon as they entered the infirmary. He didn’t pause to gather himself; it was as if the urgency had jolted him fully awake. Baekhyun had only been gone for not even fifteen minutes, but by the time he returned, the clone was either asleep or unconscious once more. On the positive side, at least he hadn’t tried to escape during Baekhyun’s absence, so Yixing swiftly removed the restraint and got to work. He checked the fever with the thermometer, grimacing as he noted the dangerously high temperature. After confirming that the stitches remained intact, he reconnected the IV that had been left behind during the teleportation. With deft hands, he added a fever-reducing shot to the mix of fluids, nodding to himself, hoping it would be enough to stabilise the clone.
“I have to monitor him closely,” Yixing said, his voice steady despite the worry etched on his face. “His fever is dangerously high, and if we don’t do something, it could become life-threatening. Get me those towels and wet them, please.” He pointed to the stack of white fabric on the table, his tone commanding yet calm.
As Baekhyun hurried to soak the towels, Yixing moved to the other side of the bed, checking on the other clone, Sehun’s doppelgänger.
“I think we will need to discuss for me to exhaust my powers for this one.”, he said while feeling for a pulse in Sehun’s unresponsive double, “I fear that if he doesn’t wake up in the next twelve hours at most, there could be brain damage. Earth’s medicine is a little primal so we don’t have the means to treat that naturally, so it would only be manageable with my powers anyway and after that point… Even I can't perform miracles.”, he said and looked Baekhyun in the eyes with a sad smile while combing the hair out of the clone's face, making him look as young as their group's baby.
“I am going to stay with them for now, please get the others and tell Junmyeonnie and the rest what we might have to do”
“He said his name was Sehůn, hyung.”, Baekhyun murmured, anxiety threading through his voice. “He begged me to help him, so I’m gonna back you up for this and that means Chanyeol is gonna be behind it as well, but that is still only three people and I don't think Sehunnie will be keen on this idea. And when the maknae is against something it's always harder to convince the leader." They all had a hard time saying no to their youngest, he mused, Junmyeon most of all. "I will try to reason with them.”, he added and Yixing nodded, grateful.
“Honestly, if we were against helping them, it would be like kicking an already injured puppy,” Baekhyun added, tilting his head slightly and forcing a half-smile that was more grimace than anything else. Yixing looked solemn at the comparison.
Baekhyun patted Yixing on the shoulder before stepping toward the door to gather the others. As he left the room, he was thankful that it was already morning, even if it was still early. The last thing he needed was for everyone to curse him out for waking them up too early.
After the abrupt morning call, the remaining eighth of them gathered in their unofficial meeting area, which had once been a formal dining room. The long table, now covered with a large, well-worn map detailing the territories and recent activities, had become a central hub for strategy sessions and emergency meetings. The air was thick with the scent of coffee and the remnants of breakfast, a stark contrast to the weighty decisions that lay ahead.
Sitting at the head of the table was Junmyeon, already dressed in his casual wear, the fabric a comfortable contrast to the weight of his responsibilities. Leaning against him was Sehun, his head resting heavily on Junmyeon’s shoulder. Bare-chested and barely awake, Sehun had dragged his usual chair next to their leader and firmly refused to move again, his sleepy demeanour endearingly demanding. Junmyeon was smiling softly at him, brushing a strand of hair away from Sehun's face, even as his eyes darted around the room, assessing the situation, as everyone gathered. Next to them sat Minseok, dressed primly in their standard uniform, freshly returned from a perimeter scout. He sipped his steaming cup of coffee, the dark liquid a lifeline for his early-morning fatigue. The steam curled up towards his face, and he took a moment to gather his thoughts, feeling the comforting warmth seep into his bones. Opposite him sat Jongdae, who drummed his fingers rhythmically against the table, a habit he had when deep in thought or anxious. The soft thumping was a constant background noise, underlining the tension in the air.
The empty chair between Jongdae and Junmyeon was usually occupied by their healer. Down from Jongdae was Jongin, dressed in his training clothes, sitting cross-legged on the chair and munching on a shiny red apple. Baekhyun couldn’t help but be reminded of the clone that sat the same way not too long before. Next to him was his chair, temporarily empty while he gave his rapport standing at the other end of the table to Junmyeon. Opposing his chair was Chanyeollie, lounged casually, a playful grin on his face. Junmyeon would never let them sit next to each other during meetings, he said it only led to chaos, so they compromised by sitting opposite one another and infuriated their leader with playing footsies under the table when he was doing his boring motivational speeches. Next to him was Kyungsoo, the steadfast one, who acted as a buffer to keep their firecracker in check during serious situations. He sat with an air of contemplation, his brow furrowed in thought as he listened intently to Baekhyun's report.
Clearing his throat, Baekhyun finally took a step forward, bringing the focus back to him. “Yixing-hyung asked me to relay his concerns regarding Sehun's clone,” he began, his voice steady but laced with urgency. “He thinks that if he doesn't wake up soon, there’s a real risk of brain damage. Yixing emphasised that we either allow him to use his powers to help the clone recover, or we’re essentially letting him die.”, Baekhyun looked everyone in the face after saying that, noting whether he could predict which way they were leaning.
“So what do we do leader-nim?”
Notes:
Note from 2022:Hi, hope you enjoyed!! I'm always open to feedback and suggestions on what could happen after this part
edit 2022: I am a liar, i am very busy with my university work that's why i still didn't post the next part, but still i plan to add at least one more chapter i love x-exo too much to abandon it like that
Chapter 2
Notes:
Edit 2024: Rewrite of the second chapter :) Hope it is enjoyable
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The discussion took almost an hour, a whirlwind of opinions and emotions clashing in the dim light of the room. As Baekhyun had asserted earlier, both he and Chanyeol were adamant about using Yixing’s powers to fix the clone up right away. Kyungsoo, surprisingly, aligned with them, but his brow furrowed in contemplation.
“I get that,” he replied thoughtfully, “but I think we should wait just a little longer to ensure it’s absolutely necessary. We don’t know how much strain this will put on Yixing hyung.”
Both Minseok and Jongdae shared concerned glances, not quite ready to commit to either side.
“Look, I’m all for helping the clone,” Minseok interjected, his voice steady but cautious. “But having an exhausted healer and two potentially dangerous individuals in the heart of our home doesn’t sit right with me.” Jongdae nodded along eagerly, adding an “Exactly ” almost absentmindedly.
Jongin, who had been quietly observing, shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“I’m with Kyungsoo hyung on this one,” he finally spoke up. “Let’s just hold off for now. We should be sure before we make a decision like this.”
Their leader listened to their arguments in relative silence, nodding occasionally while furrowing his brow deeper with each passing minute. He could feel the weight of their concerns pressing down on him, the tension in the room thickening as they bounced ideas back and forth without reaching a consensus. As the discussion slowed and they found themselves at an impasse, they noticed Sehun’s rigid posture. He had stopped leaning against Junmyeon’s shoulder somewhere in the middle of the debate, a deeply frustrated scowl marring his young face.
“Why are we even debating this?” Sehun finally exclaimed, his voice slicing through the tension like a knife. “How can you even think twice about it?” His frustration bubbled to the surface, and he shot up from his chair with such speed that it nearly toppled over. “I almost died because of him!” His voice rose, echoing off the walls as he pointed in the vague direction of the infirmary.
Junmyeon’s eyes widened, the memories of that day flooding back. All the chaos, the pain, and Sehun’s feverish state.
“Sehun, I know—”
“Do you?” Sehun’s words cut him off, sharp and bare of any honorific, a rarity that stung Junmyeon. Sehun’s eyes were wet, his frustration biting as he pressed his hand against his chest, touching the still raw, pink scar that marred his otherwise practically flawless skin. “Because it feels like you’re willing to put his life above mine, and that’s not fair! I was the one lying there, terrified, wondering if that would be it, if I’d never get up!”
The scar was a reminder, as painful to him as it was to the rest of them. The memory had haunted them all, every detail etched painfully into their minds. It had been their first encounter with the clones, the first time they’d faced their own abilities wielded against them with deadly accuracy. Sehun’s injury had been the worst. A poisoned arrow, shot with chilling precision, that lodged itself in his chest, cutting deep. The poison acted quickly, spreading through his veins like wildfire. Within the hour, Sehun was drenched in sweat, muttering incoherently, and then screaming as hallucinations overtook him, his face twisted in terror at visions only he could see.
They’d barely escaped, dragging him along as they scrambled from the abandoned museum that could easily have become their tomb. Their base that night had been anything but secure. A flimsy, barely standing wooden shack in the woods where they’d laid Sehun down, desperate, but unable to ease his suffering. His fever climbed as he writhed, clutching at Junmyeon’s hand one moment, then fighting him off the next as he swung between reality and feverish nightmares.
Junmyeon had been a man on the verge of breaking, consumed with helplessness, his grip tight on Sehun’s burning hand as he vowed over and over to find a way to save him, even if it meant storming the Red Force’s headquarters alone and drowning every enemy in his path. But before he could act, Jongin, the least injured among them, made his own desperate decision. In the dark of night, Jongin vanished, his powers taking him past enemy lines. Alone, he searched and brought back a sample of the poison Red Force had used, risking his life for the chance at an antidote. It was reckless and dangerous beyond measure; if Jongin had been caught, they would have lost him too. But he returned, breathless and looking overwhelmed but with him and that tine glass vial there was hope.
They’d managed to concoct the antidote from the stolen sample, administering it with shaking hands. Slowly in the next couple days, Sehun’s fever broke, his screams subsiding into shivers, his grip loosening from the sheet he’d twisted in his hands. The relief was so tangible that Junmyeon had sunk to the floor beside Sehun, gripping his hand with a silent promise he couldn’t have made in words.
Now, facing Junmyeon, that pain and resentment burned through Sehun’s eyes. He jerked back as Junmyeon reached for his hand, the gesture stark and brittle with betrayal.
“Did you forgive him so easily?” His voice was barely above a whisper but scathing. “What’s next? You’ll trade me out for the clone? Have your replacement without a second thought?”
Junmyeon felt the breath leave him, watching as Sehun recoiled, a chasm growing between them that he hadn’t anticipated, hadn’t prepared for.
“Sehun…” Junmyeon’s voice faltered, unable to find the words to bridge that gulf, left with nothing but regret and a hollowed ache at the sight of the man he loved recoiling from him, scarred and wounded by a choice he hadn’t realised could cut so deeply.
"Sehun... what are you", he stuttered, at a loss for words. The rest of the team looking with bated breath, frozen as two of their friends were fighting in front of their eyes.
Junmyeon tried to wind his arms around him, desperate to offer some reassurance, to pull him into a hug and explain. But Sehun scoffed and shrugged him off with a coldness Junmyeon hadn’t expected, stepping back out of reach. A flash of hurt crossed Junmyeon’s face, and he watched helplessly as Sehun stormed out of the room, snatching up a discarded leather jacket as he went, barely pausing to pull it on before slamming the main doors shut behind him. Junmyeon winced, looking like someone kicked his puppy or more accurately as if the love of his life thought he didn’t care about him. He moved to follow, driven by instinct to chase after Sehun, but a hand rested firmly on his shoulder stopped him. He looked irritated along the offending limb to find a stony faced Jongdae looking back at him.
“Hyung, going after him while you’re emotional like this won’t help,” Jongdae said, his voice steady but firm. “You’ll end up agreeing to everything he says, and we don’t need that right now. Minseok hyung and I will go after him, keep him safe and try talking some sense into him. You stay here and focus on what we’re going to do with the clones.”
Junmyeon wanted to protest. Sehun was above everyone else, his responsibility but he understood that he needed to be here, to make the decision regarding the clones but also to not let his personal feelings get in the way of their duty. It was hard. He sighed resigned and worried and nodded to the both of them to go after Sehun.
“I’ll go too,” Chanyeol volunteered, already standing. “Sehun and I get along best after him and Junmyeon hyung, and having more people will keep things safer. Let’s get ready and meet by the gates in half an hour, because I am not storming out there half-naked like him.”
Junmyeon watched them disperse until they disappeared from his sight behind the doors to their rooms. He turned to address the remaining teammates.
“Let’s wait a bit before we make any decisions,” he said finally, his tone weary but resolute. “Does that work for everyone?”
The others nodded, murmuring in agreement, and Kyungsoo gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder. Junmyeon returned the nod, grateful, before heading to his and Sehun’s room to gather his thoughts and let the weight of everything settle over him.
Junmyeon stepped inside the infirmary an hour later, his earlier panic replaced by a sense of raw vulnerability, posture radiating uncertainty. He looked exhausted, a bit of that calm leader's confidence stripped away. Whenever his mind twisted itself into knots like this, he found himself seeking out Yixing, whose presence could somehow unravel his worst thoughts into something manageable.
Inside, Jongin’s clone was glued to the other’s side. Draped protectively over the still-unconscious clone, his muscular arm and leg thrown possessively over him, his face buried against his companion’s neck. The clone’s breaths were heavy and laboured, audible even from the doorway. Yixing, seated nearby with a book open on his lap, looked up, his calm eyes meeting Junmyeon’s as he entered the room. Seeing where the leader's gaze was locked, Yixing hummed.
“It’s strange,” Yixing murmured, studying the clone’s stiff, guarded expression even at rest. “He moved during a fit of consciousness earlier, teleported right over to the other bed. Even now, he looks almost… territorial.”
Junmyeon stared, unnerved but unwilling to disturb the clones’ fragile peace. “Let them stay close then,” he whispered, almost to himself. “Maybe that will help both of them feel calmer and make them pull through.”
Junmyeon sat across from Yixing, a nervous hand absently twisting the ring on his finger. “Sehunnie got angry with us during the meeting… with me” he started, his voice edged with regret. “He stormed out… Chanyeol, Jongdae, and Minseok hyung went after him, but it’s been some time. I was hoping they would catch up with him quickly and all of them would come back right away. If something happens to him… or to any of them…” His voice grew hoarse, and he rubbed his face, trying to keep himself steady.
Yixing sighed gently, closing his book and moving over to stand beside him. He placed a reassuring hand on Junmyeon’s shoulder. “I heard. Kyungsoo came by to update me right after the meeting.”
Junmyeon looked apologetic. “I should have come sooner. I just… got caught up, overthinking, I guess.”
“No need to apologise,” Yixing said softly. “But you do need to take a breath and calm down. In the time that they were gone you can’t get anywhere near RF’s territory, and the Red Force is likely still licking their wounds after whatever happened with the clones. It’s unlikely there’s any patrol encroaching out of their lands right now, at least. I’m sure Sehun just needed space; he probably went to that windmill on the hill that we passed by when we found this place, or maybe the fields that are a little closer. They’ll be alright. They’re not defenceless and you know it.”
Junmyeon sighed, gripping Yixing’s waist for comfort. “But why? Why are we doing this, Yixing? Why are we helping these clones? We’ve been trying to kill each other for over a year, and now we’re here, nursing them back to health.”
Yixing’s hand moved to his hair, stroking it soothingly. “Because that’s who we are, Junmyeon. We don’t turn our backs on anyone in need, no matter who they are. We’re supposed to be the good guys, remember?”
Junmyeon looked down, the words hitting hard. “Sehun thinks… he thinks I’m trying to replace him with the clone.”
“Ridiculous,” Yixing murmured. “He’s just angry. He’ll come around. This is all just… too much for him right now.”
Yixing combed through the red hair, while Junmyeon turned his face in the direction of the bed, cheek still pressed to the healer's chest. They stayed like that for the next couple of minutes basking in the closeness and in a relative silence broken only by the occasional whimper from the still feverish patient.
The tension in Junmyeon’s shoulders softened as Yixing’s words worked through his mind. He leaned further into Yixing’s embrace, eyes flicking over to the bed where Sehun’s clone laid unconscious, a pang of guilt tightening in his chest.
“Maybe tonight, if the clone doesn’t start to improve, you could give him a little help. Just a gentle nudge, nothing that would exhaust you.”, he straightened his posture, took Yixing’s hand in his and squeezed, “I will deal with Sehunnie later. I hope he will come around.”
“Of course,” Yixing replied, his voice soft. He straightened up, placing a reassuring hand on Junmyeon’s. “But don’t let this drive a wedge between you and Sehun. You two need each other. Both of you will get miserable without one another”
A trace of a sad and unusually self-deprecating smile flickered on Junmyeon’s lips. “That’ll be up to him, I guess,” he murmured, sounding almost resigned.
Just as Junmyeon was about to leave, he froze. The clone was staring at him, his mismatched eyes barely visible but wide and alert, his gaze tracking Junmyeon’s every movement with an almost tangible wariness. Slowly, the clone pulled Sehun’s clone even closer, his muscles tense as he shielded the unconscious boy.
Yixing noticed as well the faint shift of consciousness in the clone and stepped closer, hands visible, his movements gentle and measured. "My name is Yixing and I’m the healer here. Can I check if the fever has gone down and if everything’s healing correctly?” he asked softly, standing with his posture relaxed, palms out to signal he meant no harm.
The clone’s eyes shifted sharply from Junmyeon to Yixing, wariness flickering in his expression as he held onto Sehun’s clone even more tightly, his grip protective yet wary. He looked the most aware that they saw him since arriving at their base. However his skin, pale and damp with sweat, looked almost translucent under the infirmary's light, giving him a ghostly, feverish appearance. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and gravelly, he winced with every syllable. “Sehůn first. I watch. Don’t hurt.” The implied warning hung thick in the air as he gently loosened his hold on Sehůn’s unconscious, keeping close.
Yixing nodded, unbothered by the clone’s guarded stance. Moving with calm precision, he inspected Sehůn’s bandages, his pulse, and then his breathing. As he opened one of Sehůn’s eyes to test its reaction to light, a faint, alarmed sound escaped from the clone, a noise that sat somewhere between worry and reluctant curiosity. Yixing glanced at him before returning to the exam, explaining in his steady voice, “I’m checking his response to light and if his pupils are the same size. Uneven pupils could mean brain damage or other serious injuries. His responses look healthy, so there’s a chance he’ll be okay.” The clone’s tension eased slightly at this, and he reached to clasp Sehůn’s limp hand, murmuring something under his breath with a subtle nod, as if reassuring himself.
Junmyeon stood back against the wall, observing closely, a quiet readiness in his stance as he kept an eye on the wary clone. Though he wasn’t sure why he stayed, he didn’t want to leave Yixing alone with a conscious, unrestrained clone, especially one so unpredictably protective. As Yixing finished checking the comatose clone and moved around to address the other, he gestured with an inviting hand for the clone to come closer.
“Now I need to check you over,” Yixing said calmly. “It would be difficult to do so while you’re leaning over Sehůn.”
Jongin’s clone tensed, his guarded gaze darting nervously from Yixing to Junmyeon, and then back to Sehůn. His posture was suddenly tense, rigid, almost as if he were cornered, looking ready to curl in on himself or even more around his unconscious companion. He seemed to recognize Junmyeon, too, his eyes flashing with an unspoken memory, face contorting into frown, teeth on display. Junmyeon faintly thinks about the brief skirmish with both of them the last time EXO fought with their clones, a blur of snarls and grappling in the cold water of the river with Sehůn, he almost exacted his revenge on the clone before he’d been struck from behind by the teleporter clone’s sudden attack. The unease clearly displayed in Jongin’s clone every move was a reminder that just as much as his team suffered from the clones and Red Force, the clones also were often hurt in their battles.
Understanding the clone’s skittishness, Junmyeon tilted his head, considering his options. He met Yixing’s eyes and gave him a faint nod before heading to the door.
“I’ll leave you to it, Yixing. I’ll be just outside waiting for the others. Call if you need anything.” He kept his tone light, meant to reassure Yixing and warn the tense clone that if he tried something he wouldn’t be far. With a final glance, he closed the door softly behind him, leaving Yixing to handle the situation in peace.
Left alone in the infirmary, Yixing gestured for the clone to come closer, watching as the teleporter hesitated, his gaze darting around as if verifying they were truly alone. Once convinced, he finally crawled over and settled cross-legged in front of Yixing, his expression one of childlike caution, his mismatched eyes fixed warily on the healer.
“What's your name?” Yixing asked, breaking the silence gently while examining the myriad cuts and bruises scattered over the clone's arms and neck, taking care to see if any of the scrapes looked infected or aggravated.
“Kāi,” the clone mumbled, tilting his head sharply to dodge Yixing’s hand as the healer tried to check if the fever subsided, a flash of irritation in his expression as he shrank back. Yixing sighed, giving him an exasperated look before reaching for his forehead again, slower this time, hoping to make his movements less intrusive. Kāi flinched but didn’t pull away, his gaze fixed suspiciously on Yixing, his mouth set in a tight line.
“Cooperate,” Yixing implored softly. Kāi grimaced but stopped moving, his face betraying a reluctance that was almost petulant, like a child enduring a tedious chore. “I need to check for fever. I’ll only touch your forehead.”
With that, Yixing pressed his hand to Kāi’s forehead, feeling the faint warmth still lingering under his skin. The fever had gone down significantly, and Kāi’s gaze was sharper, more focused. His recovery was quick, even impressive. Yixing nodded to himself with a hum of approval, already mentally preparing to check the side stitches, knowing that Kāi had probably stressed them by thrashing about in his feverish state.
But as Yixing leaned back to reach for the supplies, he felt a sudden grip around his wrist, tight and deliberate. His heart skipped a beat, the air between them thickening as he looked up to meet Kāi’s eyes. There was a peculiar intensity in Kāi’s gaze, an unsettling sharpness mixed with something darkly playful. Kāi’s expression cracked into a smile then that was too wide, the corners of his mouth stretched a bit too far, a sliver of something sharp and unsettling glinting in his mismatched pale eyes both childlike and predatory.
“Scared?” he asked softly, his voice laced with a strange sort of innocence that felt wrong, his grip on Yixing’s wrist firm but not yet painful, hovering on the edge of threatening. He didn’t release him immediately, instead letting the moment stretch as he held Yixing’s gaze, the faintest hint of amusement dancing across his face. Yixing’s heart hammered in his chest. His mind quickly ran through a list of precautions: Junmyeon, was no doubt within earshot, possibly even hovering just beyond the door. Yixing could shout, and Junmyeon would be here in seconds, maybe even half that. The rest of the team, too, wasn’t far off in this sprawling yet close-knit hideout. And yet, a new, uncomfortable realisation settled in.
It still takes less time to break someone’s neck.
The thought hovered, and for a moment, the room seemed to grow smaller, every sound muffled. Yixing felt his pulse rocket, a cold sweat prickling along his spine. Yixing wasn't the most combat ready out of his teammates. He could handle himself, of course, but he was usually the protected one that dealt usually only with the aftermath to make sure all of them were alive. The vulnerability was disconcerting.
“Sorry,” Kāi added after a second, the apology empty, almost mocking, his lips pulling back just enough to show a hint of teeth. “No lights?” he added, his voice carrying only the almost childish curiosity, as if in the clone’s mind the altercation wasn’t borderline hostile in nature.
The words hit Yixing with sudden clarity: No lights - an echo of when he’d checked over Sehůn with the flashlight. Kāi must have misinterpreted it, thinking that everyone needed to be checked in that way.
“No,” Yixing replied, swallowing, and added more firmly, “You’re awake. There’s no need for that now. I don’t think you have any brain trauma.”
Well no brain trauma other than the norm for you , Yixing thought with a small dose of bitterness.
Kāi tilted his head slightly, murmuring under his breath, repeating Yixing’s words in a quiet, almost sing-song tone that sent a faint chill down Yixing’s spine. The tension between them hung thick and heavy until Kāi finally let go, releasing his wrist with a look of vague disappointment, as if sad his game had ended. Yixing resisted the urge to analyse it, focusing instead on the task at hand. His heart still pounded against his ribs, that wide, too-sharp grin lingering in his mind even as he redirected his attention to the injury on Kāi’s side.
“How is your side?” he asked, his tone calm and measured, watching as Kāi flexed his fingers, his brow furrowing with pained grimace. Kāi’s fingers brushed the edge of his shirt, taking it off to reveal the wound without ceremony, lacking any modesty, his expression flat and oddly unaffected.
Yixing took a breath, noticing the way the bandage had slipped, the skin around the stitches red and slightly inflamed. “I need to clean it,” he said, his voice carrying a firmness he hoped would hold Kāi’s compliance, “and it may sting. Please stay still.”
Kāi’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of resistance sparking before he begrudgingly nodded, bracing himself with a grimace. As the cool cloth touched the raw skin, he hissed, clenching his teeth, his shoulders tensing, but his body remained obediently still. Yixing noted the restraint with a mix of relief and intrigue; even as Kāi grimaced, his expression twisted with discomfort, he held himself perfectly still, something almost mechanical about his compliance.
There was an odd satisfaction in Yixing as he continued, a deliberate lack of gentleness in his movements in a quiet act of pettiness for the earlier scare. When he finished wrapping the fresh bandage, he stepped back, extending his hands in front of him, palms up in a signal of conclusion. Kāi tilted his head, his brow creasing in confusion before he slowly copied the motion, mimicking Yixing’s gesture with a strange, almost curious precision.
A small snort escaped Yixing, who quickly covered it with a cough, amused at Kāi’s behaviour. He took Kāi’s hands into his own, noticing the slight tremor in Kāi’s fingers and the faint swelling, the thin scars etched across his knuckles, like faint memories of old battles.
“I need to check if all your bones are still set correctly, and if you hurt yourself while grabbing me like that” he said, enunciating each word with a calm clarity, as if speaking to a child. “It might hurt a little.”
Kāi squinted at him, his gaze flickering as he took in the words, like he was carefully processing each syllable. Finally, he repeated back some fragments: "bones… hurt… little", in a mumbled echo that seemed to lack full understanding but was good enough for him. Yixing hesitated, waiting until he was sure Kāi wouldn’t pull his hands away. When Kāi’s hands stayed in his, Yixing began. His fingers moved methodically, pressing carefully along the thin ridges of Kāi’s knuckles and joints, feeling for any misalignment. He applied a gentle but firm pressure, just enough to test for soreness, but Kāi still flinched every so often, a sharp hiss escaping through his clenched teeth as he braced himself against the discomfort. Despite this, he again stayed perfectly still, his face twisted in concentration, staring at a point in the distance as if willing himself not to move.
The faint hum of Yixing’s steady breathing filled the room as he worked his way up each of Kāi’s fingers, the quiet sounds mingling with the occasional, almost involuntary sounds of pain Kāi made. His fingers were warm and slightly clammy against Yixing’s palms, his skin marked with faint bruises and scratches, a map of the recent battles he’d endured. Yet for all the fragility the new injuries provided, there was a strange strength in Kāi’s hands, a tension that laid just beneath the surface, like a wire stretched tight.
Yixing finished the last finger, giving a small nod of satisfaction.
“That’s it,” he murmured, waving a hand in a gentle shooing motion to indicate that Kāi was free to go. Kāi stared blankly at the gesture, his brows furrowing slightly as though he didn’t understand. With a small sigh, Yixing added, “I’m done. I still need to bandage them, but that can wait for later.”
The message finally sank in, and Kāi tilted his head in what could almost be interpreted as a nod. With a slow, deliberate movement, he pushed himself away from Yixing, crawling back to where Sehůn was. Once there, Kāi leaned forward, resting Sehůn's head gingerly on his lap. His body tensed for a moment after he had done it, stiffening as if preparing for some reprimand, then his gaze slid back to Yixing with a sharp, warning glint.
Yixing caught the look and knew instantly that Kāi was daring him to comment, daring him to point out this unexpected softness, the strange quietness in Kāi’s manner as he settled down. Reading the unspoken challenge in those dark, mismatched eyes, Yixing nodded imperceptibly, letting Kāi know he understood. The warning look softened, and Kāi seemed to relax by degrees, finally allowing his hand to reach down, fingers running absently through dark hair in what appeared to be a familiar, calming gesture.
Yixing watched the two of them, a faint curiosity tugging at him as he returned to his chair, sinking back with a quiet exhale. He observed the way Kāi’s hand moved slowly, deliberately, in gentle, comforting strokes, the way Kāi’s shoulders slowly dropped as the tension ebbed out of him, the guarded sharpness in his eyes dulling slightly as he relaxed into the steady rhythm.
The sight was oddly touching, a glimpse into a side of Kāi that Yixing hadn’t expected.
“Why are you two here?” he asked softly, breaking the silence with the question that had hung unspoken between them since their arrival.
Kāi flinched at the sudden question, his head snapping up, eyes narrowing as he threw Yixing a look full of wary suspicion. He seemed to hesitate, the gears turning in his mind, wrestling with the answer. For a few long moments, he maintained eye contact, his mismatched gaze holding an intensity that was unsettling. Just as Yixing was ready to let the question drop, Kāi’s cracked, gravelly voice finally broke the silence, the rough words filling the room in a stilted manner.
“Me, Sehůn, and Chën in test room. Hear one of ours scream. Chën say wait; he go check.” He paused, looking frustrated as he seemed to struggled to piece the memory into words, grimacing with each word as if it was causing him pain. “Handler came next and tried taking us. Didn’t want. Chën say wait.”
He fell silent again, brows furrowing as he searched for words. Finally, he held up his hand, fingers pointed like a gun, mimicking the motion of a shot.
“Then… it hurt. So we go with, but hallway on fire. Then Chën comes to us and Handler twitching on floor. He show numbers and photo, says jump with Sehůn. Not allowed jumping from there.”
Kāi’s jaw set as he glanced down at Sehůn’s unconscious form, his hand protectively stroking Sehůn’s hair.
“So we run.”
Kāi paused, rubbing his throat with a grimace and licking the corner of his lips before drawing in a few deep, slightly shuddering breaths. When he resumed, his voice was low, forced, each word strained, his words fractured and broken, struggling to remember or make sense of the story he was telling.
Kāi’s eyes seemed to glaze over as he spoke, dredging up a story only half understood. "Sehůn stops. Points." He looked briefly at Yixing, his expression like that of a lost child, deeply confused. "He’s sad. So I’m sad." His fingers fidgeted nervously, almost obsessively smoothing out the fabric over his legs as he stared down, a soft grimace twisting his mouth.
"Our team…" he murmured, his voice dropping as though the thought made him small. "On the ground. Punished." His gaze darted, unsteady, as he seemed to catch sight of the scene playing in his mind’s eye. "Handlers all around. Can’t fight... not supposed to fight The Handler," he mumbled, brow creasing and then added in a shameful whisper, “But I did…”
Yixing watched him closely, noting the flickers of fear and tension that rippled through Kāi. It was a familiar sight he noticed from their skirmishes with the clones. Kāi always fell in line. They always saw him as something that had been made to obey, trained to respond at the slightest hint from the other clones, most notably from Junmyeon’s or Jongdae’s.
Now, though, Kāi’s grip tightened unconsciously, his hands held onto some part of the bed frame like a lifeline.
"Chën… Chën said…" he mumbled, his voice hushed with something like reverence. "He knew when to stay, when to go."
He looked up at Yixing then, an eerie light in his gaze.
"Chën told me jump. So I jumped," he finished, as if that simple instruction was all that needed to be explained. For a moment, his hand lifted, fingers shaking, as he repeated the shooting gesture. "Heard that. Chën showed me numbers, a photo. Said, 'Jump.' So I jumped."
There was a strange finality in his tone, as if his actions had been his only option, a desperate order he’d clung to in confusion, pain, and fear. Yixing took a moment to process the stilted, barely intelligible response. It was clear to him that there had been some kind of violent confrontation between the clones and most likely the Red Force soldiers. The clones in their care, Kāi and Sehůn, and another, probably Jongdae’s, were initially uninvolved but had been drawn into the chaos. Chën’s usual quick wit shone through in Kāi’s fragmented narrative, so he had likely been the one to strategize during the conflict. Yixing pieced together that the fight most likely had not gone in the clones’ favour. From what Kāi recounted, it seemed that their team was either dead, otherwise contained or at least severely punished, and the reality of that settled almost uncomfortably in the healer's stomach.
But then another question nagged at Yixing:
How did Jongdae’s clone know where they were?
How did he possess numbers, the coordinates, and a photo of their hideout that were needed for the teleporter to be able to land anywhere he wasn’t before?
As the silence stretched, Kāi slumped and with a dejected air whispered.
"I want my team," he murmured softly, voice trembling in the quiet, barely a breath, as though afraid he might be punished. Yixing caught the words, though he thinks he wasn’t supposed to, and an unfamiliar pang of sympathy tugged at him.
Notes:
Note from 2022: I am so sorry it took so long, i got really busy with university and didn't get much time to think about this work
I hope you enjoyed it, I'm very open to any feedback and thank you for reading, if you see any mistakes or typos please let me know, English is not my first language and sometimes I don't notice things like that.
Next part will have the Sehun search party for sure and we will see what else.
Also, i will probably edit this part another couple of times before im content so bare with meEdit 2024: You can expect 3rd chapter tomorrow and at least up to 6th chapter with a weekly schedule. Don't mind what I said back then about what is the plan for next chapter. Also if you want to you can find me on twitter: @wildern355
Chapter 3
Notes:
Hello, chapter 3 as promised. Happy reading!
tw: blood, gore and violence
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Junmyeon thought about the day they almost lost Sehun practically every other day, as though every detail of that nightmare was etched deeply in his sub-conscience. He turned it over in his head endlessly, analysing every decision, replaying every moment. He often wondered if they could have done something differently? If he could have somehow mitigated the chaos, and been there with him at that moment? What steps they could have taken to make it less of a horror show.
Now sitting with his back against the infirmary doors where their very own healer was treating the source of that wretched time, Junmyeon felt more conflicted than ever. He didn’t blame Yixing or any of the others for their absence during that fight. Not usually at least.
He understood how the situation had spiralled and they found themselves in over their heads. They got caught snooping around and got the androids sent after them. The relentless hunt had forced them into constant motion. They were forced to change locations constantly, sometimes even every other day, so the Red Force agents were forced on a wild goose chase. They did everything in their power to not lead the enemy back to the rest of the team. He knew that. He understood it. And yet...
He couldn’t help but feel a little selfishly bitter that their healer was now using precious resources and his own healing energy on the enemy , while Sehun and Jongin, if things went down differently, could have died that time and he wasn’t around to perform his miracles. The thought left a sour taste in his mouth.
Junmyeon was not proud of those dark thoughts about his friends. In those moments, Junmyeon avoided mirrors. He feared what he might see staring back at him: a cold, calculating cruelty that was a perfect copy of his clone’s.
***** Flashback *****
In that first clash, they’d been so unprepared. Junmyeon barely had time to process that he was staring into his own face, identical yet disturbingly wrong, before the clone was on him. Water burst forth, crashing like waves in a storm, an assault he knew too well. He’d staggered under the onslaught, barely managing to pull up his own defences, a protective wall of water bursting from a nearby pipe, surrounding him as he fought to stay on his feet.
The clone’s eyes were cold, stripped of any warmth he recognized, only a calculating malice and a cruel twist to his mouth. It was more than unnerving. Junmyeon raised a hand, gathering water to force back the clone, only for it to be swatted aside, dispersed like mist in the air. The clone grinned at his faltering form, a savage glint in his eyes that dared him to resist.
“You look so tired,” the clone taunted, voice too close to Junmyeon’s own, yet soulless. “Are you afraid of yourself, Junmyeon?”
Ignoring the chill settling into his bones, Junmyeon tightened his fists, summoning all his focus. He was forced into constant defensive manoeuvres as the clone pressed in, unrelenting, using Junmyeon’s every move against him with terrifying precision. Each attack stung, each blow a reminder of his own power, now weaponized against him. He couldn’t get close enough for a direct hit, the clone anticipating his every move, leaving him floundering, each attempt a step closer to exhaustion.
He couldn’t hear his teammates, scattered as they were inside the building, there were only the distant echoes of shouts and the muffled sounds of combat coming from all around him. There was no backup in sight. Minseok, Kyungsoo, and even Yixing had been missing for weeks now. The rest of his team, he didn’t even know where they were right now, just the faint noises of fighting that might have been just around the corner…or an eternity away. And Sehun…where was Sehun? A flicker of dread surged in him.
The clone seized his hesitation, darting forward with blinding speed, crashing a tidal force against Junmyeon’s defences. Water wrapped around him like a noose, tightening, choking. Junmyeon clawed at it, gasping for air as he tried to summon the strength to break free. The clone leaned in, his voice low, laced with vicious satisfaction.
“Do you really think you can protect everyone? Weak as you are, It will be only by my grace you will manage to even save yourself.”
Rage flared through Junmyeon’s chest, hot and sharp, barely managing to hold steady against the onslaught. His mind raced, searching for a way out, a weak spot, a flaw. But the clone was an unbreakable mirror, every move, every power Junmyeon possessed reflected back at him tenfold, weaponized with surgical precision and cruelty.
The clone’s grip tightened, water tendrils coiling around Junmyeon’s throat and chest, squeezing until his vision blurred. He struggled, arms flailing, but each movement was slower, weaker, as if he was sinking into the depths of an ocean with no surface in sight. His lungs screamed for air, his mind spun as panic began to creep in, tendrils of cold terror mingling with the pressure in his chest. He was being drowned by his own power, by his own twisted reflection and for a moment, the weight, the despair, was nearly overwhelming. The irony of dying by drowning, was almost lost on him in the panicked state.
He felt his body weaken, his pulse a faint echo as the darkness pulled him under. Then, a memory flickered in the void, Sehun’s voice, calling his name. The reminder of Sehun, somewhere out there, possibly dying, surged through him like a lightning strike, snapping him back.
With a fierce, desperate pull, Junmyeon forced the water back with a furious surge of his own power. The tendrils around him recoiled, loosening just enough for him to choke in a breath of air. Rage took over as he focused on his clone’s sneering face. He pushed forward, twisting his grip on the water with a deadly precision and forcing it backward, directing it down his clone’s throat.
The clone’s eyes widened in shock as water forced its way into his mouth, and he struggled, clawing at his own throat as he choked. His control slipped just enough for Junmyeon to claw his way free, coughing as he stumbled back.
The clone’s glare was livid, eyes gleaming with cold fury as he gasped, finally sputtering out the water. But his lips twisted into a smile that was uncomfortably dark and sinister on a face that looked like his, the kind of smile that made Junmyeon’s skin crawl.
“Cute trick.” he rasped, voice rough from the water, but that mockery was still there. A malicious gleam lit his clone’s eyes. He tilted his head, looking into the gleaming red light of the security camera, and then, with an unsettling calm, called out in a voice dripping with mock affection, “Come here, now. Be a good boy.”
From the shadows, in an instant another figure appeared - a man with a twisted smile, his expression disturbingly childlike yet laced with a manic glint. He walked forward with a spring in his step, eyes fixated on Junmyeon’s clone with the kind of devotion that made his stomach churn and his hair to stand on ends. The newcomer practically shivered with eagerness, waiting for direction, almost like a loyal pet awaiting a command.
The clone grinned. “Let’s make him run.”
The second man’s grin widened, his fingers flexing with excitement as if the very idea of the chase thrilled him to his core. He didn’t hesitate, advancing with a fluid step, his gaze focused on Junmyeon with feverish intensity. He didn’t wait to see what they would do next. He spun, shoving down the dread clawing at his stomach, and bolted down the hallway, his mind racing as he listened to the heavy footfalls echoing close behind him.
Junmyeon could feel his heartbeat in his throat as he sprinted down the narrow hallway, his footsteps echoing. The air was thick with the humidity left by his clone’s attack, droplets of water dripping from his soaked clothes as he stumbled forward, desperately trying to put distance between himself and the two shadows trailing him. He forced himself to keep moving, his only thought was to find Sehun before it was too late. But before he could reach the next corridor, a figure materialised directly in front of him, blocking his path.
“Boo.”, Jongin’s clone giggled.
Junmyeon skidded to a halt, nearly slipping as he tried to backtrack. His heart pounded as he found himself face-to-face with the newcomer’s chillingly familiar figure. The clone stood still for a moment, head tilted, his eyes wide, a twisted grin spreading across his face that had none of the warmth or lightheartedness of the friend Junmyeon knew. There was something disturbingly childlike in the way he looked at Junmyeon, as though this entire chase was a game.
“Good, keep him cornered.” Junmyeon’s clone observed from the other side of the hall, his tone eerily calm. He didn’t bother to approach, instead leaning casually against a pillar with a look of amusement. He watched his ally’s every move, as if admiring a well-trained pet. “Come on, you can do better. Make him jump.”
The teleporting clone grinned even wider at the praise, his expression a twisted mirror of Jongin’s carefree smile. In an instant, he was gone before reappearing, directly behind Junmyeon, his hand brushing his shoulder before vanishing again, his laughter echoing as he popped up on Junmyeon’s left, then his right, just close enough to be felt, yet always gone before Junmyeon could react.
In one instant, the teleporting clone materialised directly in front of him, his face inches away, a knife gleaming in his hand as he swiped forward. Junmyeon barely jerked back in time, the blade slicing through the air where his neck had been. Another flash of movement, and the teleporter was at his side, this time swiping at his ribs. The attacks felt almost playful. Each teleport made Junmyeon’s pulse race faster, his breathing becoming shallow as he fought to keep his panic in check.
“Come on,” his clone’s voice rang out, smooth and coaxing, “Give him something to chase.”
Junmyeon’s mind blanked. He stumbled backward, but the clone appeared behind him again, blocking his path with another twisted grin. He laughed, a hollow, disturbing sound, and in that moment, Junmyeon couldn’t suppress the shiver that crept up his spine. This face, this familiar face that should have been Jongin’s, a face usually so gentle and mischievous that was instead void of empathy, filled only with a hollow, eager malice.
The air thickened with tension as a figure suddenly flickered in and out of existence within the dim hallway, appearing right behind Junmyeon’s cruel clone, a flash of familiar moss-green hair, quick movements, and that same, unmistakable smirk. Junmyeon stumbled, watching the newcomer with both shock and relief. Jongin.
“I’ve got it, hyung” , he winked at Junmyeon and faced his deranged clone.
“Who...?" Jongin’s clone mumbled, his voice barely audible and scratchy, as though his brain struggled to process what he was seeing. His head tilted, lips parting in a vague, confused murmur. He took an uncertain step forward, faltering as if he tried to make sense of this situation. His smile faded, replaced by a furrowed brow and wide, unfocused eyes, reminding Junmyeon of the videos he watched where wild animals were shown a mirror.
Junmyeon’s clone clenched his jaw, watching his ally falter in this brief moment of distraction. His irritation was palpable, a dark scowl crossing his face. He clicked his tongue and muttered, tone sharp.
“You’re slipping. Go after him! Don’t just stand there.”
The command seemed to jolt the clone back into his manic, driven focus, his eyes sharpening as he glanced between Jongin and Junmyeon’s clone. He nodded with a strange, puppet-like obedience, as though just snapping out of a trance, and then, with a sinister grin, he vanished in a burst, reappearing in front of Jongin, circling him like a shadow.
Jongin’s eyes narrowed, scanning his warped doppelgänger, and he sidestepped just as the clone reached to grab him, barely evading the sudden lunge.
Junmyeon’s clone observed the chaos with an almost mocking expression, but his attention was divided. He turned his gaze back toward Junmyeon for a split second, seemingly torn between the cat-and-mouse game and keeping an eye on Junmyeon. In that fraction of a second, Junmyeon saw his chance. As both clones were distracted, Junmyeon bolted down the hallway, weaving through the museum’s cluttered maze, desperate to use the confusion to his advantage.
His voice echoed through the empty museum halls as he ran, his footsteps pounding on the marble floors, heart hammering in his chest.
“Sehun!”
The shout cut through the oppressive silence as he dashed down the corridor, eyes scanning every shadow. Finally, just past the edge of another exhibit room, a slumped figure caught his eye. He saw a flash of familiar black leather.
“Sehun!” He skidded to a stop, dropping to his knees beside his youngest teammate, his hands immediately pressing around the wound in Sehun’s chest, fingers slipping on the dark, spreading stain. The arrow was buried deep, the faint light catching on its shaft. A wave of dread crashed over him, but he forced it down. He needed to stay steady for Sehun.
Sehun’s eyes fluttered, his face ghostly pale, breaths shallow and strained. But even in the fog of pain, he managed to open one eye, just a sliver of recognition in his gaze.
“Hyung…” Sehun’s voice was so faint it was barely more than a breath, a broken, fragile sound.
“Stay with me,” Junmyeon urged, clutching Sehun’s hand tightly, almost to the point of bruising. He poured every ounce of resolve he had left into his words, willing Sehun to stay conscious, to hang on. “I’m here, Sehun. I’m not going to leave you. You better not leave me either” He could feel his own heart breaking as he watched his friend fading in and out, but he kept his grip steady, refusing to let go.
The sharp clatter of footsteps reached him before he saw them, the rest of his team, stumbling in, bloodied, battered, but alive. Baekhyun leaned heavily on Chanyeol, his left arm hanging at a painful angle, his sleeve soaked with blood from a stab wound. His face was pale, clenched with pain, but he still managed to send Junmyeon a determined nod. Beside him, Chanyeol looked almost equally wrecked, a burnt hole in his side revealing melted fabric fused to skin where burnt flesh would be if he wasn’t impervious to fire. The familiar scent of smoke and singed cloth clung to him, a testament to the brutal, fire-wielding fight he’d just came from.
Jongdae was next to stagger in, his skin ghostly and his limbs trembling as residual shocks still ran through him. His eyes were wide, haunted by something far beyond his injuries. It looked like his encounter with his clone had shaken him more deeply than the injuries, Junmyeon realised. Still, he pushed himself forward, jaw clenched with a determination that belied the obvious tremors wracking his body.
And then, blinking in and out at the edge of the room, Jongin finally appeared, his form flickering like a weak signal. Exhaustion was etched across his face, sweat dampening his brow as he struggled to keep himself in one place, his body clearly straining under the toll of overextended powers.
For a moment, none of them spoke. They simply looked at each other, a team united in wounds, shaken but holding on. The weight of their shared pain hung thick in the air. Even Jongdae’s usual bright eyes had dimmed, his gaze haunted and troubled, darting to the arrow buried in Sehun’s chest.
“Damn it,” Chanyeol breathed, his voice rough as he took in Sehun’s state, one hand going to steady Baekhyun by his shoulder as he grimaced at the wound. “How bad is it?”
“Bad enough,” Junmyeon managed, keeping his voice steady even though his hands were beginning to tremble. He didn’t want to give in to the wave of despair threatening to break over him; he couldn’t, not with Sehun hanging by a thread. “The arrow... I think it’s poisoned. We need to get him help, but we’re too far from any kind of aid. We don’t have time.”
Junmyeon bit back a curse, his mind racing. He knew Jongin was right. Any hospital would compromise them and give the Red Force a trail to follow, a way to root them out before they could even regroup. Not to mention, many of them were supplied by Red Force’s recent foray into the pharmaceutical business. He looked to Baekhyun, who was sweating and barely standing but nodding back at him.
“We’ll figure this out,” Baekhyun said, his voice rough but filled with that relentless determination they all needed so badly. “Let’s move to our place before the enemy regroups and we end up in even deeper shit”
They stumbled into their hideout under the weight of Sehun’s unconscious form, each step a struggle as they pushed their battered bodies forward. Every sound seemed amplified in the night silence on their way there: the muffled crunch of leaves, the uneven breathing of the team and the faint, tortured gasps from Sehun. Their safe haven that night had been anything but: a flimsy, barely standing shack in the woods where they’d laid Sehun down on a pile of discarded clothing, and anything else that was soft and lying around, as a make-shiift bed.
“I’ll go find something to stop the bleeding,” Jongdae muttered, and with a grim look, Baekhyun handed him one of their last makeshift first-aid supplies.
Junmyeon kneeled over Sehun, quickly positioning himself to remove the arrow. The shaft was buried deep, and even though he tried to brace himself, a nauseating sense of dread filled him as his fingers tightened around it. With a swift, focused motion, he pulled. Sehun jerked and gave a faint cry, his face twisting in muted agony, but he remained unconscious, which was almost a relief. A trickle of blackish blood oozed from the wound. Skin around the hole was flaky and the area swollen with a nauseating glossy sheen to it.
“The bastard clones,” Jongdae hissed, moving to check Sehun’s pulse as Junmyeon worked.
Junmyeon pressed a clean cloth to the wound, trying to stanch the sluggish bleed, though the viscous black fluid seeped through quickly. He reached for a vial of antiseptic from their dwindling supplies, gritting his teeth at the sight of how little they had left. He poured it generously over the wound and it hissed on contact. The smell of burnt flesh mixing with the metallic tang of blood making everyone in the room wince.
“I thought I had a chance to reason with mine,” he said bitterly. “But that thing… he’s smart I can give him that. Methodical. I thought he was just following orders, but it almost looked like he was the one calling the shots.”
Junmyeon clenched his jaw as he listened, focusing on wrapping Sehun’s wound even as his thoughts swirled.
“You’re saying… your clone came up with everything?”
Jongdae’s eyes flickered with a frustrated glint.
“I.. I don’t know.” he shrugged weakly, looking at the ground with a thoughtful expression.
“He… picked up on every damn thing I didn’t want him to. Said things I barely told myself in the mirror.” He rubbed his hands over his face, the memory settling heavily over him. “I kept asking myself, ‘How does he know that? How does he understand it so accurately ?’ It was like looking in a mirror seeing only the worst parts.”
Junmyeon watched Jongdae carefully before he asked.
“Did he say anything specific? Anything useful?”
Jongdae’s lips thinned into a tight line.
“He wasn’t exactly throwing out intel. The closest he got was…well, he said he could call off the team if I just told him a few things. Information he didn’t even need. It was like he was testing me, seeing how far I’d go, if I’d give anything up just to make him stop.” He paused, anger flaring in his gaze.
Chanyeol shook his head, his expression darkening. “What kind of info was he asking for?”
Jongdae let out a bitter laugh. “I didn’t give him much. A few operational details. Just enough to keep him talking.” He cast his gaze toward the floor. “And there was something about his voice. He was so damn calm, like he’d already worked out everything about me and was just waiting to see if I’d break.”, Jongdae snorted, “And when he saw he wasn’t going to get anything more from me, he changed tactics. He turned his attention to you guys, asked me questions about you . Kept pushing to see if I’d let something slip, anything he could use. He laughed when he saw it made me angry. Called it ‘fascinating’ how protective I got.”
Baekhyun frowned, glancing toward Junmyeon. “So he knew that rattling us would work better than just overpowering us. Maybe that’s why they didn’t kill us outright.”
“In the end he did call off Junmyeon’s clone, lied about us waiting for backup, and the other ordered everyone to retreat.”
Jongdae’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully after a second. "You know, Jongin… when I first came across my clone in that security room, your clone was there too. And I remember he had that… crazed, somehow childish look to him, like he was desperate to impress someone."
Jongdae’s voice softened. "And my clone’s demeanour toward him was… strange. Almost gentle. Like he was playing along with that need for approval, rather than commanding it.”
Jongin looked up sharply.
“Gentle?”, his eyebrows knit together in confusion, as if the word didn't belong anywhere near his clone.
Jongdae nodded slowly, as if trying to make sense of it himself.
“Yeah. I mean I couldn’t observe it for long, but he was somewhat… soft. Commanding, sure but also still gentle” Jongdae’s lips pressed into a thin line as he seemed to recall the tense interaction. “He didn’t bark orders. It was more like he was coaxing him along? It felt like he was letting him feel like he had a choice, but steering him toward the outcome he wanted anyway.”
Junmyeon’s jaw clenched, his gaze darkening while he gripped Sehun’s hand tighter. "My clone wasn’t like that. There’s no softness, no leniency. He didn’t even treat him like he’s a person. It’s orders, directives, and threats."
Baekhyun grimaced, his hand pressed tightly to his arm, where blood still trickled sluggishly from the stab wound. His face was pale and strained, the sharp lines of pain more pronounced with every step as the last remnants of adrenaline drained from his system. Chanyeol walked beside him, his arm securely wrapped around Baekhyun’s waist to keep him steady. Junmyeon saw the way Chanyeol’s jaw tightened every time Baekhyun winced or stumbled, his concern practically radiating from him in waves. They limped closer toward where Sehun laid.
“If we are relaying our experience with those things,” he began, voice slightly breathless, as he slumped slightly into Chanyeol’s hold “My clone didn’t seem… fractured, not like Jongin’s seems to be. If anything, it was like a twisted copy, like I was fighting some dark, shameless version of myself.”
Baekhyun managed a shaky chuckle, though it was more out of nervous energy than amusement.
“We fought with rapiers,” he said, nodding down to the discarded weapon at his side. “And he was taunting me. Just throwing out insults, going on about how pathetic and predictable we are. It felt like he was savouring every second, enjoying the chance to push every button he could find. It was my voice, my stupid personality quirks, but sharper, darker. Mocking.”
His hand clenched over his wound as he looked down, frowning.
“Only thing is, he kept slipping, telling me all sorts of things he probably shouldn’t have.” Baekhyun shrugged, a dark glint in his eyes. “Apparently, the Red Force created them just a few months ago. They spent their whole ‘lives’ locked up in testing rooms, rehearsing for this fight. And now? They’re thrilled to be out, running wild. No restrictions, no more orders to sit still” He gave a dark, humourless chuckle. “It’s like he was… happy, really happy, to be on the hunt, to be set loose. Almost like they’d been starved for it.”
All of them flinched when the silence that took over the room, after that statement, was broken with a pained groan from Sehun as his fever spiked. His body was shaking and coated in a thin layer of sweat. They got busy tending to him as in the next hour the poison took hold completely, spreading its way through him. His eyes cracked open, his pupils unfocused, staring off into some invisible distance. He muttered something inaudible, fragments of words and sounds tumbling from his lips in a slurred voice.
Junmyeon pressed a damp cloth to Sehun’s forehead, but the younger writhed and jerked away from his touch, eyes suddenly wide with terror. Whatever he was seeing, it wasn’t the cramped, dimly lit shack or the worried faces of his teammates. His gaze was fixed on something far beyond them, and his breaths grew rapid and shallow, while his body began to tremble and convulse under the grip of relentless hallucinations. Junmyeon could only hold onto his shoulders, trying to ground him, but Sehun's fear was palpable, his fingers clawing at the air.
Junmyeon felt a desperate rage ignite within him. His hands pressed harder around Sehun’s wound, as if sheer will alone could draw out the poison, force it to retreat. The image of Sehun lying there, helpless, burned into his mind with painful clarity. Junmyeon was supposed to protect them, every one of them. To make sure they got through every mission, every fight, alive and whole. And now, here Sehun was, slipping away in front of him, the poison eating through him with a speed they couldn’t control.
Junmyeon’s voice broke, a whisper of a promise as he held Sehun’s burning hand. “I’m here, Sehun. I’m not going to leave you.” The desperation in his tone was sharp and painfully raw. If it came to it, he would storm the Red Force’s headquarters himself, drown every last person there if it meant a chance at saving him. He wouldn’t stop until he had a cure - no matter the cost. He would gladly lose himself at the chance of saving him.
The hideout fell into a tense silence, the air heavy with dread and exhaustion as they watched Sehun’s fever consume him. Jongin, though wavering on his feet, his face pale and translucent like he was slipping between this place and a million others, suddenly straightened with a sharp intake of breath.
“I’ll go,” Jongin announced, his voice barely above a whisper yet firm with resolve.
The others turned to him in surprise, some with immediate protest etched in their expressions.
“Go? Go where?” Baekhyun asked, though his eyes already hinted at the answer he feared.
“To the main labs,” Jongin replied, the words as certain as a death sentence. “I can teleport in, get what we need… either an antidote or the poison itself. They’ll have samples stored somewhere.”
“No.” Junmyeon’s voice cut through the room like a blade, hard and unyielding. He rose to his feet, every muscle tense. “Absolutely not. I’m not letting you go on a suicide mission, Jongin.”
“It doesn’t have to be suicide,” Jongin said, his voice faltering but still determined. His gaze lingered on Sehun, whose skin was now ashen, his breaths a harsh staccato in the quiet room. “If I get in and out quickly, they won’t have time to notice me. They won’t even know I was there.”
“Jongin,” Chanyeol started, glancing between him and Junmyeon, “look at yourself. You can barely stay in one place, let alone teleport that far and pull off a heist by yourself. You’ll be torn apart.”
“I can handle it,” Jongin replied stubbornly, the determination in his eyes almost luminous against his wan face. “If I don’t try, then what? We sit here and wait for Sehun to…” His voice choked off, but the meaning hung thick in the air. He took a step forward, his fists clenched. “This isn’t just about me. Sehun doesn’t have time for us to weigh our options.”
“That’s exactly why we’re not letting you do this,” Junmyeon countered, his tone rising. His eyes burned with desperation, his protective nature warring with the helplessness he felt. “We’re already one man down. I’m not going to lose you too.”
“But you won’t,” Jongin insisted, his voice breaking slightly. “Hyung-ah, this is what I’m good at. This is what my power is the most useful for. If I can’t do this to save him, then why am I even here?”
Jongdae stepped in, his hand raised to quiet the heated voices. “Jongin, look at your hands.” He gestured to where Jongin’s fingers were trembling, the fine vibrations visible even from across the room. “You’re overtaxed. The labs aren’t just some quick pop-in-and-out kind of place; they’re a fortress. You’ll need every ounce of strength to get in and out without setting off every alarm. They’re going to notice you the second you’re in.”
“I know the risks,” Jongin argued, his voice wavering but determined. “I’m willing to take them.”
Junmyeon shook his head firmly. “You’re not going, Jongin. That’s an order.”
Jongin’s jaw clenched, the protest rising to his lips.
“And what if I do it anyway? What if I teleport out of here the second you look away?”, his voice held a defiant edge, a flash of the Jongin who would do anything for his teammates, even if it meant risking himself entirely.
Junmyeon’s eyes hardened, and he took a step closer, gripping Jongin’s shoulder with a force that conveyed every ounce of his resolve.
“Then you’re abandoning us, Jongin. You’re abandoning Sehun. Because if you try this and fail, we’re left without you, still without an antidote… and we’ll still lose Sehun.” His voice softened but held a steel edge. “Stay here with us. We’ll figure it out together.”
Time slipped by in an unmeasured haze as the team stayed gathered around Sehun’s makeshift cot, watching as he descended further into fevered madness. Each hour stole another sliver of hope as the poison twisted through his veins, warping his mind, his body a battleground for hallucinations and sickness. His breathing grew ragged, each strained inhale punctuated by a shallow exhale, as though each breath might be his last.
By the time night had fallen completely, more than four hours after the fight, Sehun’s cries had turned to screams, his body wracked with tremors as he lashed out at specters only he could see. Blood trickled from his nose, and his eyes burned crimson with broken capillaries. Every scream tore into the team, shaking them to their core. Sehun’s gaze was lost in his hallucinations, darting across the room in horror as he clutched at his throat or clawed at the air. More than once, he tried to thrash away from them, mistaking his friends’ concerned faces for the twisted, nightmarish figures conjured by his poisoned mind. Uncontrolled gusts of wind swiping loose furniture around.
Junmyeon stayed the closest, trying to soothe him with whispered reassurances that only seemed to stroke Sehun’s torment. His voice, usually steady and calm, was raw and broken, and his hands trembled as he clutched Sehun’s in a desperate attempt to keep him grounded. The team whispering, forming one ridiculous plan after the other. But the poison was relentless, and no matter how tightly Junmyeon held him, he could feel Sehun slipping away. It was only thanks to the alien and superpowered physiology that Sehun wasn’t dead yet.
When Junmyeon’s pleading turned to sobs, his hands clutching Sehun’s as if he could will the poison away, something in Jongin snapped. He couldn’t watch this any longer: the helplessness, the horror clawing at their last reserves of strength. He couldn’t just stand by as the man who had held them together unravelled, torn apart by the suffering of someone he loved.
And so, with a silent apology and a final glance at his team, Jongin broke rank. With a soft hum of energy, he vanished.
Their heads turned in unison toward the empty space he’d left behind, the particles of dust settling slowly in the shape of his silhouette, a haunting echo of where he had stood. Silence fell, heavy and suffocating. The realisation was like a punch, knocking the breath from each of them, leaving them reeling.
"That idiot," Chanyeol whispered, though his voice wavered, betraying the raw, gnawing fear behind his words. They knew Jongin was determined, but none of them had thought he’d go alone, risking everything despite direct orders. Their minds raced, each thought more terrible than the last as they imagined him facing the clones or worse, falling into Red Force’s hands, helpless and alone.
*** End of Flashback ***
Notes:
I know it is mostly a flashback but I hope you enjoyed it anyway, I loved writing the Obsession MV as a snippet of the story. I thought about making it a separate one shot that would be part of this universe but i think i prefer to have it here instead even if it is less built up
I hope no one is dissappointed that the clones are little psychos, but I love a villain :)
There might be a redemtion or there might not be, who knows?What do you think about how X-Kai and all the other clones are behaving?
I love any and all feedback, so please do not hesitate to say whatever you want ^^ I am just always glad someone takes their time to read it
Chapter 4 will be next week around the same time :D
Chapter Text
Jongin’s fists met the boxing bag with a steady, relentless rhythm, each hit landing with a force that vibrated through his knuckles, grounding him. It was his way of drowning out the noise in his mind, the confusion that lingered ever since they’d brought the two clones into their home. His body moved on autopilot, going over boxing moves on autopilot, hit after hit, over and over, working out the tension knotted up in his muscles.Trying to not drown in thoughts.
He was frustrated. He wasn’t thrilled that they were giving refuge to their supposed enemy, particularly ones that Red Force created seemingly only to make their lives harder. He felt a flicker of guilt and overwhelming pity beneath it masked with irritation. The enemy was here, in their home, sleeping under the same roof, getting medical treatment as though they were part of the team. His shoulders tightened with each punch, the rapid thuds echoing in the room as if they could pound the uncertainty right out of him.
On the other hand, even as he tried to push his frustrations aside, an image of his clone kept slipping into his mind, bringing with it once again a wash of pity and quiet sadness. The memories of that chaotic, broken look in his clone’s eyes haunted him, and Jongin couldn’t ignore it, no matter how hard he tried. The sheer unbridled chaos that was his clone’s mind was uncomfortable in its overtness. He’d only ever caught glimpses in those short moments during their fights, but it was enough to know that whatever Red Force had done to his clone, it was brutal. His fists hit the bag harder, the rhythm picking up speed as he tried to shake the thought from his head. He landed a particularly hard punch, the bag swinging back in a wide arc before he caught it and steadied it.
He clenched his fists, feeling the leather of his gloves stretch under the pressure, the familiar ache in his muscles grounding him, reminding him that he was here, alive and relatively well. But it hadn’t been his doing. Jongin thought back to that moment—the time he’d barely escaped death, the memory of it lingering like a shadow in his mind. He’d come out of it with nothing but questions and a gnawing uncertainty, one he’d carried with him in silence. Not even his team knew what he’d faced that day. The questions swirling in his head were therefore left unanswered.
Why did Jongdae's clone let him leave?
Why did his own clone not snap his neck then and there?
What will be the inevitable price?
***** Flashback *****
Navigating the main Red Force lab felt eerily easy, almost too easy if Jongin thought about it for more than a second. He drifted through the hallways like a ghost, his body swaying with exhaustion but his movements were intuitive, honed with experience and training while his mind razor sharp and focused on the goal. He slipped past workers in lab coats, blending into the shadows, more than relying on his unsteady powers. He tried not to think about the last time he and his members were running through a similar maze that were Red Force’s labs. He felt the steady beat of his heart and tried to not jump at every sound of feet.
He kept to the edges, pressing into alcoves or sliding behind corners just as stray personnel passed, an instinct for evasion guiding him even in his weakened state. He marched through narrow corridors with stark white walls littered with doors labelled with placards in blood-red font. Everything was nearly sterile in appearance, not even specks of dust to be seen anywhere. Jongin felt a strange uneasy feeling grip his heart that got stronger with every step. He half-expected to encounter some security or at least an alarm beside the lab workers, but he moved unhindered. His gaze flicked time and time again to the security cameras mounted in the corners, with their lenses pointed directly into the halls. He scanned them, his eyes searching for the telltale LED lights, but found none on any of them. Either they were decoys and he was monitored with unseen ones or the security was down for some reason.
At the end of another sterile hallway a door labelled “Hazardous Materials Storage” as well as a couple other doors that seem to lead to different storages caught his eye. He teleported inside, not willing to mess with the electric locks. He shivered as he landed on the other side. Molecules of his body taking longer to put him back together with every jump with how exhausted his powers were, but he was willing to withstand the painful and disorientating feeling if Sehun would be okay at the end of all of this.
The room beyond was dimly lit, lined with stainless steel shelving and tables holding a meticulous assortment of beakers, tubes, and vials, every surface holding some sort of state-of-the-art lab equipment. The air stung his nose from the sharp, clinical smell of antiseptics and a series of other chemicals. He passed by the equipment, not sparing a glance around as he noticed the steel doors on the opposite wall to the entrance.
It looked like Jongin found what he was looking for: a walk-in freezer. His heart skipped as he pulled open the unprotected door, a blast of cold air hitting him as he stepped inside. Rows of shelves lined with labelled vials and containers met his gaze. Glass bottles neatly lined the shelves, each meticulously labelled in bold colours. He skimmed through the collection, eyes darting from one warning symbol to another, bright yellow labels declaring light, almost translucent amber liquids as “Corrosive”, lower he found vials with some sort of viscous bright red fluids with the “Toxic” insignia. The sheer variety was daunting; acids nestled alongside more benign solutions, no rhyme or reason in the storage method. He didn’t have time to read every label, and the foggy cold of the room made his thoughts sluggish in his already weakened and exhausted state. He scanned the array further, fingers brushing against the cool glass as he paused at a shelf with bottles filled with opaque red bottles, the labels adorned with a skull and crossbones. Names ranging from cyanide and nightshade, that he recognised as well as more complicated ones that he couldn’t pronounce even if he wanted to.
“Bingo”, Jongin whispered, finding at last the shelf with the poisons.
He grabbed the vials haphazardly, one after the other, knowing each one could be the one that was cursing through Sehun’s veins. Sehun didn’t have time for careful study. He just needed to get everything he could carry, get out and let the others figure out which one to use back at their base.
Then, a chill that had nothing to do with the freezer washed over him. He felt a presence, dark and heavy, settling over him. Jongin spun around, breath coming hitching, one of the vials almost slipping from his fingers then.
The gaze he met was his own and yet it wasn’t. His clone stood there, unnervingly pale, eyes unfocused but with a glint of something vicious flickering within them. Before Jongin could react, his clone lunged, pinning him back against the wall of the freezer with a brutal grip around his throat. Cold fingers clamped down, squeezing with merciless strength, and the vials slipped from Jongin’s hands rolling unharmed, as he scrambled at the iron grip around his neck, his vision going hazy from the lack of air. He wanted to teleport, but he couldn’t do it with another person on his best days so it was impossible while he was so out of it like at this moment.
He could feel himself growing weaker, dark spots dancing in front of his eyes. His clone was holding him there like a puppet, trapped and helpless, clawing at an unyielding grip. His legs weakened, his knees threatening to buckle.
From the doorway, another figure appeared, Jongdae’s clone, his eyes gleaming with a cruel amusement as he sauntered into the freezer, heeled leather boots clicking against tiled floor. He held a vial of clear liquid, with a smirk, he tossed the vial up, catching it as though it were nothing more than a trivial toy. His smile twisted into a mocking pout, his gaze gleaming with false pity.
"This is what you came here for?" he asked with exaggerated pity, tossing the vial up higher and catching it with ease, a predator toying with his prey.
The clone's attention shifted to Jongin’s clone, his hand reaching out to pat him approvingly on the back, as though he were rewarding a well-behaved dog. Jongin's clone tilted his head slightly, almost child-like seeking praise, his grip shifting but no less brutal. There was a small flicker of gratification in his clone’s eyes. Jongin gasped weakly, his vision dimming more from lack of oxygen, but he could still see how his clone leaned ever so slightly into the other’s hand, craving that silent nod of acknowledgment.
Jongin struggled, his consciousness fading as his clone tightened his grip while leaning into the hand that petted him. Just when the darkness began to overtake him, he heard Jongdae’s clone chuckle and give a quiet, amused command.
“Hmm. I think he’s had enough, don’t you?” he said, his voice filled with amused indifference, his gaze flicked back to Jongin’s clone with a small, satisfied smirk, “Let’s release him.”
The fingers around Jongin’s throat loosened, and he gasped, air rushing back into his lungs as he slumped against the shelves, struggling to regain his balance. He staggered, the world tilting as he tried to steady himself. The vials rattled as he stumbled against the metal rack, seeking support.
A few feet away, Jongdae’s clone watched with a smug amusement, tilting his head as though appraising a new, pitiful creature. He held the vial up to Jongin’s eye level, letting it sway just out of reach with a sly grin. He savoured Jongin’s desperation for a moment, his gaze lingering on the weariness in Jongin’s eyes and the strained, shallow breaths he took. Finally, after a moment, the clone extended his hand, the vial held delicately between two fingers, his posture a mockery of generosity. With an infuriatingly casual wave, he handed it over.
“Run along, now,” he mocked, voice faux-sweet, flicking his fingers in a dismissive shooing motion.
Jongin didn’t need to be told twice. Clutching the vial, he summoned the last of his strength to stumble upright and try to pull on his almost drained powers to blink away from the two psychopaths.
He saw his clone watching the exchange, silent and still, his eyes flickering between Jongin and Jongdae’s double with a strange, almost yearning expression. In the split second before he vanished, he saw his clone edge closer to the other, his gaze softening in a way that was almost vulnerable. The clone’s posture relaxed, his shoulders lowering as he looked at Jongdae’s clone with something close to hope, as if yearning for a simple gesture, maybe for some sort of affectionate approval. Jongin thought it reminded him of a puppy asking for pets, if he forgot that this puppy was an insane murder-machine. The other turned to his subordinate, his lips curving into a dismissive smirk.
Jongin couldn’t dwell on the strange exchange, he took a step and vanished, teleporting out of the freezer, his heart racing and every nerve screaming with exhaustion and fury. His mind now filled with anxiety that the clone might one day ask for something in return for that show of goodwill.
*** End of Flashback ***
The rhythmic thuds of his strikes began to blur as he got lost in the memory. With each punch, he felt the weight of everything that happened recently pressing down on him, the responsibility of keeping his team safe and happy. A deeper part of him wrestled with the thoughts about his clone, what hell it must be like to exist in such a fractured state, mixing obsessive loyalty with that madness, yearning for approval yet being treated like a pet, a fight dog or a mere extension of someone else's will, almost no better than a tool and a means to an end.
With a final, fierce punch, Jongin stepped back from the bag, his breath coming in heavy gasps. He stretched his neck and arms a little, shirt riding above his navel. He tried to get himself out of the funk those thoughts dragged him into. The repetitive physical exertion not enough to make him not think about the situation at hand, bringing only more thoughts to the forefront of his mind. Frustrated with himself more than earlier he sighed audibly, taking big gulps from the water bottle he slowly nodded to himself while looking in the cracked mirror behind the boxing bag. Decision made he made himself walk all the way to the room where the clones were getting help.
Jongin halted as he rounded the corner. He saw Junmyeon sitting with his back against the infirmary doors. His leader was slumped, his eyes distant and unfocused. The weight of recent events was etched deeply into his face. Jongin could see the worry that had lined itself into his features, the exhaustion that couldn’t be solved with simple rest. Quietly, Jongin approached, taking a seat beside him, close enough to feel the tension radiating from his leader, but far enough to give him space if he wanted it.
For a few moments, neither spoke, the silence sitting heavy between them. Jongin glanced over, studying the way Junmyeon's jaw tightened, how he was absently rubbing his hands together, a nervous habit he usually kept well-hidden from the team. It was unusual to see Junmyeon like this, so openly vulnerable and lost in thought.
“Are you… alright?” Jongin asked softly, keeping his voice steady.
Junmyeon flinched, barely noticeable, as if he didn’t register when Jongin showed up until then. He let out a dry, humourless chuckle, his lips curving into a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Alright? That’s a strong word,” he murmured. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. “Just… questioning everything.” He paused, swallowing hard, as though the words were painful to speak aloud. “Feels like all I do these days is make the wrong calls. Can’t really shake the thought that I might’ve just driven Sehun away for good this time.”
“Hyung… Sehun’s mad right now. More than likely hurt. But he cares about you too much to just walk away.” Jongin’s voice was firm, trying to instil some of the confidence Junmyeon always showed for the rest of them. “Besides, you’re doing what you think is right. It might not feel like it, but I think Sehun will see that, even if it takes him a minute or ten.”
“I know what we are doing is quite risky… And I know that our fight against the Red Force is bigger than our personal grievances.” His voice wavered, “But is it too much for me to just be worried and sad for a little? If he decides he can’t… be with me because of this, then I don’t know…”
“Then he’ll come back when he’s ready,” Jongin replied, a little more insistently. “You know Sehun. He’s not the type to let things fester. He’ll tell you what he needs to say when he’s ready.”
Junmyeon looked over at Jongin, as though searching his face for any trace of reassurance. Junmyeon’s shoulders relaxed slightly, his gaze softening as he met Jongin’s eyes. He smiled a little tiredly, but it didn’t reach quite up to his eyes.
“I appreciate you being here, Jongin-ah. It means more than you know. Thank you for the kind words.”
They sat in silence for a moment. Jongin felt a strange peace settle over him, realising he could actually be here for his hyung for once instead of it being the other way around like usual. It made him feel quite proud of himself.
Finally, Junmyeon cleared his throat and gestured toward the infirmary doors.
“Yixing’s inside, keeping an eye on them,” he said softly. “And your clone… he’s finally… well, let’s say he’s coherent, at least. Maybe a little calmer. If you came here to see any of them before I accosted you with my silly worries.”, Junmyeon stood up and dusted off his pants, “I will be downstairs, I might try to occupy my mind with something useful and try to review our strategies. Thank you again Jonginnie.”
Jongin frowned and mumbled that they weren’t silly before nodding as Junmyeon walked towards the staircase. He glanced at the infirmary door with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.
Their infirmary room was quiet, save for the occasional creak of a shifting floorboard and the occasional hum from their healer. The steady stream of noon sunlight that filtered through the dusty windows, casted patterns over the makeshift cots and scattered medical supplies. His clone sat cross-legged on a low cot, surrounded by messy sheets with the other’s unconscious head resting against his thigh. His gaze was downcast, fixated on his bandaged fingers as he tapped them together, wincing with every touch. There was a strange blend of defiance and innocence in his movements, a childlike stubbornness that bordered on playful mischief even through the pain. He was in full concentration as he pressed his fingers together again, brow furrowing at the pain, his lips curving into a faint, almost fascinated smile.
Yixing paused his distracted humming, looking over with a soft sigh.
“Don’t aggravate them, please.” he admonished, giving Kāi a warning glance before continuing to sort through the supplies.
His clone merely raised a single eyebrow and resumed his fiddling, seeming both to register the instruction and ignore it in the same breath. He leaned back slightly, an air of half-disguised amusement flickering across his expression, and settled himself further on the bed. Jongin lingered in the doorway, watching this strange mirror image of himself.
It felt surreal now to see him like this, nursing his injuries, defensively cradling Sehun’s clone in his lap, when this wild-eyed clone of his was always nothing but a murderous threat in their past encounters.
Jongin took a steadying breath before stepping forward, out of the doorframe. Yixing only gave him a cheerful wave, going back to his collection of medical supplies. His clone’s posture stiffened, pale mismatched eyes laser focused on him.
When Jongin took a single step closer, his clone immediately hunched over, his expression darkening as he curled his arm protectively around the other’s defenceless form. There was an animalistic gleam in his clone’s eyes as he glared at Jongin, his fingers twitching slightly as though ready to strike if Jongin made any wrong move. It was disconcerting, watching this other version of himself exude such possessiveness and protectiveness. A low sigh escaped Yixing, who, sensing the tension, came up between them.
“We won’t be fighting here.”
Jongin nodded and put his palms up in a universal peace sign. His clone seemed to not heed Yixing’s words and was still all but growling. Jongin took a steadying breath before continuing forward. He kept his movements slow and his gaze as calm as possible, watching how his double’s posture shifted again, his whole body almost curling around Sehun’s clone’s unconscious form. The fierceness in his eyes was unmistakable, but under the surface, Jongin could swear he saw a hint of uncertainty. It was some kind of restless energy that seemed to flare momentarily, then waver, questioning whether Jongin was truly a threat.
“Hey,” Jongin said quietly, his voice gentle, keeping his hands still in view. “I’m just here to keep you company.”
Yixing, still keeping close, lost a little of the tension in his face and smiled slightly, this time at Jongin’s clone.
“Kāi here decided he doesn’t want to talk anymore today,” Yixing explained, his tone almost apologetic. “He said it hurts.”
Jongin blinked, a little perplexed. “Okay…”
Kāi’s gaze darted up to meet Jongin’s, eyes narrowing with mistrust, but he didn’t immediately tense further. There was something volatile in his expression, a look that could turn into a smile or a glare with the slightest provocation, but Jongin kept his own expression neutral, watching Kāi with a careful kind of patience. He sighed before stepping up to the second cot in the room, a little distance away, to not provoke the unstable clone and sat on the edge of it.
“I don’t trust you,” Jongin admitted after a moment, feeling Kāi’s stare sharpen as he spoke. “But… you came to us for help. You didn’t have to. And if you’re here for help, then we’ll give it to you.”
Kāi’s expression flickered, his fingers pausing their restless fidgeting and tapping. He looked at Jongin with an expression halfway between a smirk and a frown. He opened his mouth a little for a moment, but then pressed his lips back together with an almost audible click, his eyes flicking to Sehůn’s still form, then back to Jongin.
There was a challenge in his gaze, a silent question that Jongin didn’t answer outright, just meeting his stare evenly. They sat in silence for a couple minutes, the quiet stretching between them. Kāi’s shoulders were still tense but his glare softened bit by bit. In the silence Jongin couldn’t help but study his clone a little. His hunched over posture and almost childlike wonder as he spared minute glances at the unconscious form of Sehun’s clone. His gaze was time and again drawn to the injured fingers, carefully wrapped in bandages by Yixing, that his clone couldn't help but tap, pull and all around leave in peace to heal. Like clockwork, Kāi pulled at the broken ring finger, almost absentmindedly, gasping a little as the pain registered.
“Stop that,” Yixing chided softly again, coming close after taking some metal dish from the side table and putting it back on one of the shelves with other equipment. Reaching over, he stalled Kāi’s hand, earning only a mild look of irritation in return. After giving Kāi one of his pleading looks, he went back to organising his supplies.
It wasn’t even a minute later and Kāi’s fingers again hovered near his broken ones, itching to touch, to test, to provoke the pain that Jongin knew must be throbbing beneath the surface.
“You shouldn’t keep poking at them,” Jongin said gently, watching as Kāi’s gaze snapped back to him as if once again remembering that Jongin was still here, fingers curling almost protectively over the bandages. “It’ll hurt more if you do. You don’t have to be in pain, you know? You shouldn’t keep making it worse. The more you strain them, the longer it’ll take to recover.”
Kāi’s eyes went wide, and he froze, his hand stilling as though Jongin’s words had startled him into submission. He looked down at his fingers, almost bewildered, his chest rising and falling as he seemed to take in what Jongin had said. It was as if the idea that someone didn’t want him in pain was so foreign that he needed a moment to comprehend it.
After a few seconds, Kāi finally dropped his hand, Kāi’s fingers curling gently over Sehun’s clone’s forehead in an uncharacteristically gentle gesture instead, the smallest hint of a nod signalling that he understood, or at least that he was willing to listen. He glanced at Jongin, something curious flickering in his gaze that looked like a hint of gratitude, or perhaps relief. He saw Yixing looking briefly relieved, before sending him a grateful nod.
“Okay”, Yixing hummed. “Jonginnie, I need to eat and rest a little. Can you keep them company? MInseok hyung was supposed to do it now but I guess they aren’t back yet.”
“Sure”, Jongin nodded and saw his clone looking curiously around as Yixing walked out, seeming not to have an opinion on staying alone with Jongin.
Jongin stayed where he was, watching the way Kāi alternated between looking at walls and windows with blank expression and seeming to not be able to leave Sehun’s clone alone. He watched this strange protectiveness in his clone over the other. There was a certain vulnerability in Kāi’s movements now, a tenderness that felt strange to witness but that Jongin didn’t dare disrupt. He watched him play with the other’s hair, shifting it from one side to the other, he watched as the other petted the other’s cheek as well as any other body part he was looking at at the time. There was something almost gentle as Kāi adjusted Sehun’s clone’s head on his lap with careful fingers.
As the moments passed, he saw Kāi’s eyelids grow heavy, his posture shifting slightly, the adrenaline and tension slowly ebbing away to reveal an exhaustion that was bone-deep from life as well as intensified by the recent injuries. He saw him fighting to keep his eyes open, his gaze darting between Jongin himself and Sehun’s double as though torn between the instinct to protect and the weight of his own fatigue.
“You can rest,” Jongin said softly, noting the way Kāi’s shoulders tensed slightly at the suggestion. “It’s okay. I won’t do anything to you or your.. teammate? You can rest, I promise.”
Kāi frowned, his brows knitting as if conflicted, and for a moment, he looked at Jongin with something close to suspicion. But then, the weight of exhaustion took over, his eyes fluttering as he struggled to stay upright. It was clear he didn’t want to leave Sehůn unguarded, yet the pull of sleep was undeniable. Jongin watched as he gave in, his shoulders sagging, his gaze finally softening, though his hand remained resting buried in Sehun’s clone’s hair, fingers gripping lightly as if to reassure himself that his companion was still there.
Just before his eyes drifted shut, Kāi looked at Jongin with a faint, weary hint of trust, a trust fragile and tentative but there nonetheless. And as the silence fell over the room once more, Jongin allowed himself a small, relieved sigh, feeling that perhaps, just perhaps, this whole thing could end up okay.
Notes:
The love of my life X-Chen is here.
What did you all think? It's a little shorter chapter I tried to write more but it felt a little forced so i left it at that.
I'm always happy and curious to hear what you guys think, so don't hesitate to let me know :D
Chapter 5
Notes:
So I am a little late with this one and I'm sorry but my laptop decided to stop cooperating and i had to leave him to get fixed. But I have him back as of today so i give you this chapter :D
Enjoy!
TW: there is a scene that might come across as a slightly non-con -esque, proceed with caution
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Sehun’s feet crunched the autumn leaves as he made his way up to the familiar windmill. He glared at the ground with a lump in his throat from the frustration, as tears pricked at the back of his eyes wanting to spill with the sheer heartbreak. Small gusts of wind were swirling around his legs, tugging at his clothes and ruffling loose strands of his hair and making them stand in every which way, as his control over his powers was slipping with the turmoiled thoughts.
The windmill loomed ahead, ancient and worn by time. He’d noticed it when they’d first arrived at this place and something about it called to him even then. Perhaps it was the loneliness of the place, standing solitary against the endless stretch of unsown fields boarded by a forest. Or perhaps it was the promise of solitude, of pretty views and quiet moments, that drew him in. He’d longed to come here away from everyone, craved the quiet solitude where he could let all his thoughts wander freely. He wondered if he could once again see the Milky Way and all the stars if he sat here at night. He wanted the sight to bring back the comfort of their home. There was also the mill itself, that made him want to see if he could make it move with his powers and not break it completely. This time as well, he wanted to see if he could touch something and for it to not fall apart completely as his relationships seems to.
He wanted a lot of things, but they’d been too busy, too caught up in endless missions, briefings, and planning sessions. Now, he wished he’d never laid eyes on it.
The calmness of this place he’d yearned for, wasn’t coming. He felt anything but calm. Every step seemed to make the anger burn hotter, every memory of that meeting and everything about the past events piling on. Junmyeon’s calm voice as he approved the decision that seemed to come so easily to him. It didn’t matter that Sehun had nearly died at the hands of his clone. No, what mattered was that now those bastards needed help, and that was enough for Junmyeon.
The wind around him flared stronger, and he bit down on the bitter feeling rising in his chest. A small tear almost slipped from his eye, and he angrily wiped at his eyes, hating the sting of it. Hating that Junmyeon’s calm, steady face stayed in his mind, echoing with the same words he told him many times over the years: we help people who need it, no matter who they are. How could it be that simple to him? How could he look Sehun in the eye, knowing what had happened, and still choose them ?
A part of him knew he was being irrational, that Junmyeon’s decision had nothing to do with him. Junmyeon had always been driven by that maddeningly strong sense of duty, that ability to see the bigger picture even when it hurt. But knowing that didn’t stop the deep-seated ache twisting in his chest, the feeling that maybe, just maybe, Junmyeon didn’t care as much as he used to. That his near-death didn’t weigh on Junmyeon’s mind, didn’t haunt him the way it haunted Sehun.
Another tear stung at his eyes, and this time, he let it fall, not bothering to wipe it. He could feel the wind softly whistling around him, echoing the pain he couldn’t put into words, as it slipped almost completely his usually iron-clad control. He wanted to scream, wanted to demand why his pain, his fear didn’t seem to matter as much as the mission. Always the mission.
He wanted to be selfish for once, damn it!
Why Junmyeon hadn’t stopped him from leaving, hadn’t run after him. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly as another wave of heart wrenching pain swept over him. He exhaled, slow and ragged, leaning back on his arms while sitting down in the grass, a couple steps away from the windmill, letting his gaze drift out over the hill and the field beyond, his mind a whirl of broken thoughts and unsteady breaths. He dug a stray pebble and threw it down towards the horizon, letting his wind carry it further than it would normally go to. His anger finally exhausting itself until he felt more empty than ever.
He wasn’t ready to go back. Wasn’t ready to face Junmyeon and see that calm, understanding look in his eyes, the one that only made him feel smaller, like he was the one being irrational and childish. But maybe, just maybe, this empty, lonely hill was enough for now.
The chill autumn noon air brought him back to the present with a shiver. He felt the occasional tear fall down as he tried to get over himself and get the courage to go back to their base. To apologise to his lover for being so selfish, grovel if he had to just to not lose the best thing in his life right now. He stared out into the horizon, his vision blurring as he tried to suppress the ache in his chest. The windmill creaked softly in the slight breeze, when he heard a crunch of footsteps approaching.
He quickly hid his face, turning his face away. He didn’t want the redness of his eyes, as well as the tear streaks to be noticed by anyone in his team who was sent to get him back. He also didn’t want to be seen crying over something so small, he shouldn’t be so affected by it. He could go without Baekhyun hyung teasing him for it, thank you very much.
Then he heard him, as warmth of his body settled beside him, that familiar voice. He couldn’t help the butterflies that suddenly decided to have a party in his stomach, because he came after all.
“I thought I would find you here.” Soft voice murmured beside him, almost melodically.
Sehun swallowed, forcing down the thick emotion that welled up at the calm tone. He didn’t want Junmyeon to see the redness in his eyes most of all, the evidence of how much this fight had hurt. He brushed at his face again, more harshly and kept his gaze fixed on the horizon, his voice barely above a whisper to mask its wavering.
“I… I’m sorry,” he said, feeling the lump in his throat grow heavier with each word, but his Junmyeon deserved to hear it as fast as possible. “I didn’t mean to… It’s just… things have been so hard lately, and I…” He trailed off, his words dissolving into silence, not knowing how to express his fears and troubles that plagued him since his almost-death.
The figure beside him didn’t respond right away, only shuffled a little closer, enough that Sehun felt the warmth radiate between them as they were almost touching. He turned slightly closing the rest of distance between them. He rested his head on Junmyeon’s, a little stiffer than normal, shoulder, letting himself take comfort in his presence. It was always so easy with him. No need for elaborate grovelling, no screaming, just a soft understanding. He felt Junmyeon put a hesitant hand on top of his and he couldn’t help but smile at the silent olive branch. He squeezed it in acknowledgment.
"I just… I hate fighting like this," he murmured, his voice breaking just a little. "Feels like everything’s already against us. Then we start arguing, and it’s like the last thing holding us together is breaking too." He sniffed, avoiding Junmyeon’s gaze, still unwilling to let him see the full extent of his vulnerability. He let his other hand wander, fingers dancing on taut muscles of Junmyeon’s thigh. He hid his face in the black leather of Junmyeon’s jacket.
“I really thought you’d let me storm off,” he murmured, a faint teasing edge in his voice. “You know, after that whole… thing back there. I was starting to think maybe you’d finally had enough of me.”
His tone was light, a joke meant to fill the tense quiet between them, but underneath it laid a raw vulnerability that Sehun wasn’t fully aware he’d let slip. “But you came. I guess that means I haven’t messed things up that badly, huh?”
He saw a glimpse of half a smile before setting his eyes back on their joined hands, frowning a little as Junmyeon didn’t rub his thumb across the back of his hand as usual.
“Well… someone has to keep you in line, don’t they?” The words came out a little clipped, a bit stilted, but Sehun accepted the response as a small tease, not minding the slightly stiff atmosphere, as long as Junmyeon was still willing to work with him, be with him, he will overlook his forced lightheartedness while he pretends that their fights didn’t also make him a little angry with Sehun afterwards. He relaxed further, his hand drifting up and down again.
“You know, you’re probably the only one who has the patience to deal with me when I get like this.” Sehun glanced away, fiddling absently with a thread on Junmyeon’s pants, his voice quieter now. “Guess it’s good one of us is actually capable of being, you know, mature .”, Sehun chuckled, leaning his head back. “But… I am really grateful, you know? Even though I say a lot of things I don’t mean. It’s just…” he trailed off, his voice softening, “…I dunno. Sometimes it just feels like I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”
He felt the Junmyeon stiffen beside him, but the response, when it came, was calm and soft. “Everyone has their place, Sehun. Even if it’s a complicated one.”
“Right, complicated,” Sehun muttered, trying to laugh it off, though the bitter edge crept in. “Not everyone has to deal with their clone that almost succeeded in killing them, literally staying in their home, huh?” He shrugged, gesturing vaguely towards the hideout. “And now they’re being treated by us. Just… I don’t know how you do it, honestly. So patient. So… forgiving. But let’s not get back to it. I can’t fight with you again so soon”
He heard Junmyeon humm softly in agreement and he couldn’t help the loving smile that bloomed on his face. He took a small breath, turning to face his leader, this person who had been his anchor for so long, despite the fights, the frustrations. Hesitantly, he reached out, letting his hand rest on the other’s cheek, his thumb brushing against the corner of his lips.
Sehun leaned in closer, his face inches away, his heart in his throat as he tried to put into action the affection he’d held back today. But when his gaze shifted to meet Junmyeon’s, he paused. The eyes that stared back at him were colder and almost an unnatural shade of blue, not the warm brown he knew so well. There was a stiffness in his posture, a slight grimace pulling at the corners of his mouth as he watched Sehun lean in.
For a moment, Sehun’s mind spun, struggling to comprehend the small but unmistakable differences. The unfamiliar distance in his expression, the way his body seemed coiled and on edge rather than relaxed and warm.
Recognition hit like a punch to the gut. He felt a chill crawl down his spine, his heartbeat speeding up and hammering painfully as he flinched away, inching back from the imposter.
It wasn’t Junmyeon. It was the clone.
He scrambled back, heart pounding as he practically crawled backwards away from the imposter as fast as he could.
“You are not…” Sehun’s voice was barely a whisper, a mix of shock and horror twisting his expression as he stared at the stranger before him.
The realisation sank in, making way for the shock to settle in. He’d been sitting here, laughing and sharing worries with this… fake copy. This cold, calculating mimic of his lover. The warmth he’d felt seconds before curdled into icy fear as he met the now cold and mocking gaze of the clone staring back at him. A smirk twisted on the clone’s face, his head tilting with a cruel sort of amusement.
“Oh, well. It was worth a try,” the clone drawled. He crossed his arms casually, enjoying the panic in Sehun’s eyes as he stood up, dusting off his pants absentmindedly. "Did you really think your beloved leader would come all the way out here just to comfort you? That he'd waste his time running after you after the way you apparently left? Honestly I wouldn’t even bother to think about you after stunts like that and I am modelled after him.” The clone’s voice was laced with a condescending pity. “Honestly, Sehun… You really are incredibly gullible."
Sehun swallowed, feeling his heartbeat pound faster, his whole body tense as he took a quick look around. His mind raced with self-blame, his thoughts spinning out of control. How could I not have noticed? How could I mistake him for my… for Junmyeon? But even as he berated himself, he felt the fear creeping in, settling in his bones as he realised he was completely alone, with no backup, more than an hour away from their base and nothing but the unsettling presence of this clone in front of him.
The clone’s smirk widened as he sensed Sehun’s fear.
“What’s wrong?” he taunted, his voice a dangerous whisper. “You seem… on edge.” His eyes glinted as he stepped closer, his voice could freeze hell, even if it was barely above a murmur.
Sehun’s breathing quickened, his mind scrambling for any way out of this. He cursed himself silently, feeling trapped and exposed. He couldn’t help but think of all the times he’d relied on Junmyeon to pull him through, to reassure him, to be the calm in the storm. Now, he was alone against a twisted, merciless version of that same face. The clone’s gaze was calculating and sharp, dissecting Sehun with unsettling calmness, as though he were studying some small, pitiful creature struggling against its inevitable fate, caught in a handmade snare.
“What’s the matter, Sehun?” the clone drawled, his tone dripping with mockery. “Do I see some defiance? Really? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Always desperate to prove yourself, aren’t you?” He took a slow, measured step forward, a dark satisfaction simmering in his gaze as Sehun scrambled to put more distance between them again and being stopped when he pressed his back against the cold stone at the base of the old windmill.
“I guess that’s what makes you so easy to manipulate. You’re all bark and no bite. Honestly, I almost feel bad for you.”
Sehun felt his resolve waver for a split second under the venom in those words, but he couldn’t back down. He clenched his fists, trying to keep his breathing steady, though his heart raced wildly in his chest.The clone let out a soft, disdainful chuckle, tilting his head as though Sehun’s attempt at bravery amused him.
“You know, you’re lucky Junmyeon even bothers with you,” he sneered. “What does he see in you, anyway? You are this clingy, needy thing that can’t even stand on his own two feet without someone else holding you up.”
Sehun’s jaw tightened, his face heating with both anger and shame. A pang of doubt hit him. The insecurity that he always had at the back of his mind that maybe, deep down, there was a grain of truth in those words. Maybe I am too dependent… maybe he deserves better. He quickly shook the thought from his mind, but it lingered, a faint, nagging doubt that his clone seemed all too eager to feed.
The clone’s smirk widened, seeing the flicker of doubt in Sehun’s expression.
“Don’t look so hurt, Sehun,” he said, voice dripping with feigned sympathy. “I’m just telling you what everyone else already knows. You can think of this like a favour. A show of mercy. I wouldn’t want you to be caught unaware when he leaves you after all.”, his face twisted into a mockery and somehow still a perfect copy of Junmyeon’s worried expression.
Sehun’s throat tightened, his fingers trembling slightly as he dug them into the grass beneath. He tried to steel himself against the words, tried to remind himself that this wasn’t real, that this twisted version of Junmyeon was only a cruel imitation. But his own doubts gnawed at him, and each barb the clone threw at him felt like a direct assault on his deepest fears.
“And let’s not forget,” the clone continued, his tone softening into something almost pitying, “You think he forgot about this fight of yours you told me about already? I bet he’s sick of it, sick of always having to reassure you, of constantly having to play the part of your saviour.” He took another step closer, eyes glinting with a dark, sadistic glee. “If anything, he’s probably relieved I found you first. There must be a reason none of your little band of misfits are here.”
Sehun felt his chest tighten, his eyes involuntarily dropped to the ground. The clone was hitting every vulnerability, each word cutting deeper, twisting the metaphorical knife. The shame, the guilt over his words to Junmyeon resurfaced, raw and painful.
The clone let out a low, derisive laugh, clearly relishing the way Sehun’s confidence seemed to waver.
“ Pathetic ,” he sneered. “You’re so blinded by your little fantasies, so desperate to believe that he’ll always be there, that you can’t even tell when you’re being lied to. And here I am, just playing along while you bare your soul. Honestly, I’m almost insulted that you didn’t notice.”
His stomach twisted with nausea and dread as the weight of his mistake sank in. He had mistaken this twisted mockery for the man he loved, and had allowed himself to believe, even for a moment, that Junmyeon came to make things right. How could he have been so foolish, so blind and desperate?
The clone’s gaze hardened, a cold satisfaction flickering in his eyes as he watched Sehun’s reaction.
“Oh, come on, don’t look so heartbroken,” he taunted, his voice soft but laced with pointed cruelty. “You should know better by now. But then, I suppose even that’s too much to expect from… you.”
Sehun gritted his teeth, his fists clenching as he fought against the torrent of emotions swirling within him. The fear, the anger, the shame, it all coalesced into a fierce, burning fury.
He might have been tricked, might have been shaken, but he wasn’t going to let this twisted version of Junmyeon have the last word. A spark of defiance flickered in Sehun’s eyes as he lifted his chin, refusing to let the clone see the full depth of his panic.
The clone’s expression darkened, his lips twisting into a somewhat sinister smile.
"Now that you let it slip where my little wayward teammates are, it will be easier.” he taunted, watching the flicker of doubt and worry in Sehun’s eyes. “They can’t hide from me or from the Red Force with no means of getting them back. You really think we’d let them roam free without some sort of… leash?”
Sehun's breath caught, his mind racing at the clone’s words. The thought of invisible control, implants or something else tracking their every move, a way to call them back at any moment made Sehun’s skin crawl. Even as a sort of vindicated satisfaction swirled in his gut, that it really could be a trap if he was to believe what Junmyeon’s clone was saying.
“All it takes is a single command, and Kāi will come right to me, obedient as a dog. You’re naive if you think he wouldn’t abandon everything and come crawling at my feet if I demanded it.”
Sehun swallowed, his mouth dry as this new information settled over him. He could practically see Jongin’s clone now, arriving with that familiar, eager look, wanting only to please his “master” the way he always did during their fights. The clone seemed to revel in Sehun’s horror, his lips curling in satisfaction.
“You’re such a fool,” the clone jeered, stepping closer. “Honestly, maybe I should take you off Junmyeon’s hands.” he hummed as he tapped his lips with a faux thoughtful expression. “I’d be better for you, anyway. More capable. Smarter.” He tilted his head, studying Sehun with a mocking gaze. “And clearly, you can’t even tell us apart, so why not upgrade?”
Sehun stiffened, anger sparking to life amidst the fear clawing at his chest. The wind picked up at his distress. The clone continued unrepented, his voice cold and mocking, dripping with arrogance.
“I mean, who else is going to put up with someone as… well, weak as you? Especially after this little betrayal of yours here?” He leaned in, his gaze sharp, hungry. “It’s cute, really. The way you cling to Junmyeon, so desperate for his approval. But we can be honest here, he’s out of your league.”
Sehun’s vision blurred, and despite himself, he felt a tear slip down his cheek. He tried to bite back the vulnerability clawing its way to the surface, but it was no use.
“Stop… just stop.”
“Oh, Sehun, that’s not how this works,” the clone purred, his voice sharp and cutting. “You stormed off to throw your little tantrum, hoping he’d follow you, hoping he’d prove to you that you mattered. And now that I’m here, you realise what a fool you’ve been. What a desperate, pathetic fool.” He paused, eyeing Sehun’s tear-streaked face with something close to amusement. His smile turned sinister, his tone cruelly casual.
“Come on, don’t look so devastated, Sehunnie. I’m just here to help you see the truth. To help you understand how little you matter.”, his voice suddenly turned softer, his face contorting into a gentle and almost lovingly coaxing expression. “Think about it, I could be everything he isn’t for you. I’d never ignore you. I’d make sure you had all of my attention, every day, every second. You would be a priority.”, his gaze casually shifted from Sehun’s eyes to look around them, but when it came back it was dark and intense. “All you’d have to do is come with me. Just obey me, listen to me, and I’ll be the Junmyeon you’ve always wanted in your most selfish thoughts.”
Sehun’s voice was barely a whisper, his thoughts tangled and uncertain.
“But I don’t want that…I want my Junmyeon the way that he is.”
The clone’s smile froze, a shadow of irritation crossing his features. He took fast purposeful steps until they were face to face, only centimetres between them. His fingers trailed down to Sehun’s chin, gripping his face and tilting it up so that their eyes locked. Sehun shivered, feeling his heart clench painfully. The clone’s gaze gleamed with an unnerving intensity, a spark of something dark and obsessive lurking behind the stormy eyes.
“Stop clinging to someone who doesn’t care and come with me, Sehunnie,” he murmured, voice dropping to a low, coaxing tone that seemed to slither into Sehun’s mind.
Sehun swallowed hard, his heart pounding. He wanted to pull back, but the grip on his face held him in place, and the fear clawed at him. The clone let his thumb brush over Sehun’s cheek in an almost tender way, and it made Sehun shiver, both from the touch and from the quiet, hollow satisfaction in the other’s gaze.
“You’d be my equal, Sehun,” his voice was soft and almost earnest. “I wouldn’t leave you behind, I wouldn’t look at anyone else, wouldn’t waste my time or my strength on other distractions like he does. You’d have all of me, everything you’ve ever wanted.”
Sehun tried to hold back the trembling in his voice as he whispered, knowing that provoking the clone could end with a broken neck, lungs full of water or dehydrated cells, leaving him as a husk to be found by his team.
“I.. I know Junmyeonie loves me. I know he cares for me and everyone else.”
The doppelgänger’s smile twitched, irritation flaring again even stronger, but he masked it quickly, brushing a thumb over Sehun’s lips, shushing him.
“Don’t say that.” His smile grew, a glint of cold satisfaction and almost hunger flashing in his eyes as he watched a tear fall down Sehun’s cheek, his hand slipping to cradle his face fully, thumb still brushing the edge of Sehu’s lip. “All you would have to do, Sehunnie, is abandon those silly morals and ideals. Let me take the lead. Let me mold you into something better than what you are now. Let me make you someone… deserving.”
“D-Don’t,” he stammered, his voice barely steady, fear thickening with each breath, as the clone leaned closer, while brushing away another fallen tear.
The clone’s expression darkened immediately, his features twisting with something close to disappointment and disdain. Without hesitation, he tightened his grip on Sehun’s face. His fingers latched onto Sehun’s jaw with a bruising grip, nails biting into his skin with painful pressure. The sharp sting of them making him wince, as he suddenly felt the warmth of blood trickling from broken skin.
“You really don’t see it, do you?” he hissed, his eyes narrowing with an icy malice that sent a shiver down Sehun’s spine. “How could you be so blind? I am better, Sehun. I am the better version, the version that doesn’t waste time on petty distractions. You’d have everything you secretly desired.” His voice grew softer, more menacing, each word dripping with a kind of quiet fury. “But I suppose that’s expecting too much from you.”
Sehun’s hands trembled as he tried to loosen the grip and get away, but the clone only dug his nails in harder, relishing in the pain that sparked in Sehun’s eyes.
“Do you realise just how easy it would be for me to stop that pathetic heart of yours?” he murmured, a merciless smirk twisting his lips. “Most of your body is water, including the blood you’re so desperately trying to pump through those veins.” His tone grew colder, and with each word, Sehun felt a tightening in his chest, as though his heart was struggling against some unseen pressure, each beat coming slower, heavier.
“Imagine it,” the imposter whispered. He leaned in close to Sehun’s ear, close enough that Sehun felt revulsion curdle in his stomach as he felt those lips curling in satisfaction against his ear when he felt Sehun struggle in his hold. “A simple flick of my wrist, and I could make every drop of blood in your veins turn against you, make it feel like knives slicing through every nerve. All while you look into this face, Junmyeon’s face.” He chuckled softly, the sound cold and detached, revelling in the terror that widened Sehun’s eyes, his lips barely brushing the edge of Sehun’s skin.
Sehun clenched his jaw, unable to hold back a shudder of abhorrence and hurt. Summoning every ounce of strength, he lashed out, twisting his wrist to send a gust of wind slamming into the windmill behind him. Loose shingles and splintered wood rattled free, spinning through the air in a whirlwind. Sehun directed them at the clone, watching as the debris streaked toward him.
The clone’s mocking expression faltered, and he raised an arm to shield himself while flinching back away from Sehun. As the shards struck, they grazed his cheek and tore through the sleeve of his jacket. The impact left several cuts and bruises across the clone’s face and arms. The clone’s face smoothed, and a dark, unreadable look settled into his gaze.
The chaos let Sehun wrest his face out of the clone’s grip, and let him put some more distance between them. The idea of facing the real Junmyeon now, knowing how close he’d come to betraying his own trust, was almost unbearable. But more than anything, he couldn’t let himself die here. He couldn’t die without fixing things.
The clone brushed a hand over his face, smearing away a thin line of blood trickling down from a fresh cut on his brow. His expression shifted, and a chilling calm washed over him, the anger beneath it sharp and ice-cold.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Sehun,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. He straightened, wiping the blood from his cheek as his gaze locked onto Sehun with deadly intensity.
The short reprieve, as they stared at each other with the wind howling around them, was broken as Sehun’s vision blurred as he suddenly choked. His lungs screamed, desperate, forcing his mouth open looking for oxygen while he drowned from within. His chest heaved in panic, every muscle convulsing to draw in air that wasn’t there. The need to breathe clawed at him, primal and raw. A deep, crushing ache spread through his chest, as he stumbled a step back, feeling an immense need to claw at his chest and throat in panic, he fell to his knees. As sudden as the sensation appeared, it stopped, letting him cough weakly as he hunched over digging his fingers into the grass. He coughed out blood and wet mucus as he struggled to regain his breathing.
In his dazed state he barely noticed the quiet, steady footsteps approaching until they stopped just a few feet away.
"Finally found you Suhø. You can really move fast when you want to,” another voice cut through the haze, tone edged with dry amusement with a hint of irony. Through the pain, Sehun managed a weak, desperate glance at the new arrival. He saw not-Jongdae’s pierced lip curled into a kittenish smile. His calculating eyes switching time and time again between him and Junmyeon’s clone as he slowly and almost leisurely approached, his steps casual, as if he were strolling through a garden and not a scene of violence. Suhø barely turned his head, eyes still locked on Sehun’s hunched over figure with a deadly glint.
"I don’t recall asking you to interfere, Chën.", he snapped, his tone sharp with irritation.
Sehun saw Chën give a slight bow, his eyes holding a hint of detached amusement. His hard calculating gaze roaming over Sehun’s form again.
"Be as it may, my leader,” he replied smoothly, letting the title linger in the air like a bitter aftertaste. “But we have company approaching, and I thought it best to inform you before they get too close.” He tilted his head back towards Suhø with a slight smirk. “It would be… unfortunate if you were interrupted.”
Suhø scoffed and took quick purposeful steps towards Sehun making him try to scramble away. The clone crouched down and once again gripped Sehun’s face with unyielding fingers, eliciting a strangled cry as pain flared through Sehun’s cheekbones as the other clone watched almost disinterested.
“Do you think I care, Chën?” Suhø hissed, his words dripping with disdain. “I could kill him now and still be gone before they even notice.”
Chën inclined his head, his tone deferential but Sehun heard also an edge of something else, something faintly mocking. “Oh, undoubtedly, you could.” He folded his hands behind his back, his voice dropping into a smooth, measured cadence. “But taking out one EXO might provoke the others. They’d come for retribution, you know. And we’re not prepared to deal with that, not right now.”
Suhø’s expression hardened, his gaze narrowing. “I don’t fear them, Chën. I could tear through each one if I wanted to. A few misplaced loyalties and delusions of grandeur don’t make them a match for me.”
“I’m sure they don’t,” Chën replied, voice calm as he regarded Suhø with a neutral expression. “But they are useful distractions, aren’t they? Letting them stew in their desperation works to our advantage.”
Suhø threw an irritated glance at the other clone. Momentarily letting Sehun breathe away from the intense stare he was subjected to until now. Suhø studied Chën with eyes that gleamed with disdain.
“You think I couldn’t butcher them, so only a bloody mess was left behind?”, he sneered
Chën remained unfazed, his face an unreadable mask, though his tone dipped slightly in something unrecognisable, that only Sehun seemed to notice. “Far be it from me to imply such a thing.” he said, his gaze fixed on Suhø with an expression that looked like mild reverence.
Suhø’s grip slackened on Sehun’s face, his eyes pondering. “You shouldn’t be getting out of line.”
Chën’s eyes glimmered with a brief flash of amusement as he glanced down at Sehun’s trembling form, looking him over with cold satisfaction. “Of course Suhø. I wouldn’t dare suggest otherwise. It’s just… a timely observation that the three EXOs on their way here might not take kindly to an ambush.”
A hint of irritation flared in Suhø’s expression as he looked toward the distant hills, where storm clouds gathered in dark masses. His jaw clenched.
“Who?”
Chën’s lips curved in the faintest hint of a smile. “Chanyeol, Minseok, and Jongdae.” His tone turned dry. “They look unbothered for now, but I’d assume that’ll change when they catch wind of our little… excursion.”
A flicker of anger crossed Suhø’s face, and he growled, “I could take one of them down before the others even have time to react.”, the glimmer of hope in Sehun vanished as quickly as it appeared when Suhø’s gaze went back to him as he said it.
Chën gave a slight nod, almost a gesture of acquiescence, though his expression was unchanged, his eyes still glinting with a cruel edge. “Yes, undoubtedly, you could. But you know them well enough to understand they’d come looking for vengeance. These cockroaches are nothing if not… stubborn.” He met Suhø’s gaze, his voice turning placating once more. “We’re not prepared to waste resources dealing with an immediate retribution.”
Sehun, though gasping with the renowned strength in Suhø’s grip, couldn’t help but notice the thinly veiled contempt that radiated from Chën, despite the careful deference in his voice. It was subtle, a slight curl to his lip, an edge to his gaze.
Suhø’s face contorted with fury, his hand pulling Sehun roughly to the ground. Before quickly turning his stormy eyes to Chën. Quickly grabbing him by the back of the neck and pulling Chën down to his height with a bruising grip.
“You don't get to question my actions.” Suhø spat, his voice low and dangerous.
Chën’s face remained impassive, his voice placid, almost servile. “Of course. Your word is law.”
With a sharp motion, Suhø released him, pushing him back, his gaze burning with residual fury as he turned back to Sehun. Sehun felt as if he was on the brink of unconsciousness as he felt more than saw the weight of Suhø’s stare.
“Such a shame, Sehunnie,” Suhø murmured, a twisted smile spreading across his face, his tone tinged with cruel pity. “You should have just agreed with me. I could have been your god… and you, my favourite subject.”
The air grew heavier as Suhø turned on his heel and started heading back, his strides long and deliberate. The humid, sticky weight that clung to the clearing seemed to follow him, lifting slightly the further he went. Chën lingered, though, his eyes following Suhø's form before they settled back onto Sehun, sprawled and still struggling to breathe properly. With a casual air, he walked over and delivered a sharp kick to Sehun's side, his pointed red leather boots pressing hard enough to roll Sehun onto his back, pinned to the ground. Pain exploded through Sehun’s ribs, and he gasped, struggling to push himself up but faltering. Chën leaned down, his voice a low murmur, his words laced with a cold, sardonic amusement.
“How come it’s always me who ends up saving your life, hmm?” Chën’s face twisted into a mocking smile as he tilted his head, looking down at Sehun like a predator sizing up its weakened prey. “One day, I might just decide to collect on those debts.”
Sehun gave a confused glance at the other, but Chën wasn’t done. He cast a thoughtful look around the clearing, his gaze narrowing as though evaluating his surroundings with some unseen calculation. His voice dropped lower, dripping with menace. "If Sehůn and Kāi end up dead, you best believe I won't be stopping Suhø’s bloodlust anymore. He’ll cut through every one of you and I will even enjoy the show."
Chën’s lips curled into a cold smirk, his head tilting slightly as if savouring the weight of his words.
"You know,” he continued smoothly after a second, his gaze darkening, “if Suhø had his way, you wouldn’t just be defeated. No, he and The Makers would make sure there was nothing left of EXO, your precious little team, wiped from existence without a trace. Striked from history, all the accomplishments twisted and forgotten" He paused, his gaze hard and calculating, “You should be thanking me really, the way I restrain him all the time.”
When Sehun remained silent, Chën’s expression twisted with irritation, his eyes narrowing. He gave Sehun another light, mocking kick with his pointed boot, his voice chillingly soft as he hissed, "I said, you should be thanking me. Say it, Sehun. I didn’t go out of my way to save your life just to be met with ungrateful silence."
Chën’s smirk widened, a cruel gleam in his gaze.
"Or don’t,” he said with an indifferent shrug. “But remember, Sehun, that I could end this charade of mine whenever I please. I could let Suhø off his leash, let him ravage you and your little friends. After all,” he murmured, his voice almost pitying, “how long do you think you’d last if I didn’t keep him under control?"
His gaze bore into Sehun’s, a flicker of dark satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “Go on, then,” he taunted, his voice a low whisper. “Say ‘thank you.’ Show me that you understand that you should be very grateful.”
Sehun’s mouth was dry, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. He could feel the weight of Chën’s unspoken threat. And as much as he despised it, Sehun felt the word clawing up his throat, a bitter concession to the very person who seemed to take pleasure in his suffering.
“Thank… you,” he forced out, hating the way his voice trembled.
Chën’s smirk widened, his gaze almost gloating as he straightened, giving Sehun one last condescending glance.
"Good boy,” he said softly, his tone mocking. Standing, Chën adjusted his gloves with a slow, practised ease, his gaze resting once more on Sehun with a look of disdain. "Your team should be here in about half an hour," he murmured. "Try not to die before they arrive."
Gritting his teeth, Sehun muttered, “I don’t need you to play the hero. You shouldn’t underestimate us.”, he coughed leaning heavily on his elbow, slowly sitting up. “I could take away the air that you breathe so easily.”
Chën paused, his smile widening in amusement, but his eyes narrowed, studying Sehun with a newfound calculation.
“Right.”, he snorted. “And how did that pathetic power of yours field when Suhø was drowning you?”, he mocked, tone amused.
And with that he turned. Strolling with purposeful steps down the hill into the tree line below where Suhø stormed off to moments before. Sehun collapsed, heart pounding but relatively safe at last. He groaned frustrated and laid back down on the grass.
“Fuck this.”, he closed his eyes, ready to wait for his teammates.
Notes:
Hope you enjoyed the chapter, I had so much fun writing this and I think this one might be my favorite :D
Please let me know what you think, if you have any thoughts and/or theories what is to come in the future chapters.
Chapter 6
Notes:
Hello, next chapter out now. Happy reading and please let me know what you all think :D I always love reading the comments they make me so happy.
tw.: it has a couple of scenes that deal with the abuse tag, proceed with caution
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Kāi knelt on the floor with his hand neatly folded on his thighs. He was swaying to a tune that was playing in his head, body rhythmically moving from side to side. His temple was brushing against the leg he was sitting beside with every other sway. The soft sound of scribbling pen against paper was lulling him into a state of almost relaxation. At least into as relaxed a state as a being who was always on a brink of decorporialisation could feel. The constant itch he felt to be in a million places at once was almost manageable. His gentle swaying halted as he felt the familiar fingers bury themselves between his unruly strands of hair.
It was a firm touch with just enough pressure to keep him in place, comforting in its predictability, even if impersonal. Kāi felt a strange sense of satisfaction in the gesture, warm and binding. It brought a smile to his face. Suhø’s gaze was sharp, assessing, but he didn’t bother with questions or instructions, he knew the hand gesture was enough to make Kāi obey.
“Good,” Suhø murmured, his tone deceptively soft, reminiscent of someone speaking to a well-trained pet. Kāi winced, his smile slipping into a grimace as he felt the fingers tightened without warning, the grip harsh and pulling painfully at the roots of his hair. His scalp prickled under the strain as his head was tilted upward. He fought against the instinct to avoid the eye contact with his leader.
“Stay still. Just like that, looking at me.”
Kāi didn’t mind the strict tone. It felt strangely safe, something known and consistent. He didn’t have to question anything, everything was fine, everything was as usual. And so Kāi obeyed, unblinking, letting the warmth of the grip anchor him in place. He locked his muscles in place as the melody in his head started playing again.
In the next moment, a strange haze took over Kāi’s thoughts and vision. It melted his surroundings into a different scenery.. A different scene, change that felt natural and expected, like the world has simply righted itself. He felt the cold leather like material of the couch at his back. The walls blurred from Suhø’s office into the open-plan room of their common area. Suhø’s rough tugging at his hair melted into a gentle pat. Kāi blinked, and suddenly Sehůn was next to him, arms crossed, eyebrows drawn as he looked down at Kāi sitting on the floor. His head instinctively lowered just like he always did for Suhø. Just like he always did for everyone. Just like The Makers wanted. He saw in the corner of his eyes as Sehůn frowned in something resembling confusion under his usual passively irritated disposition.
“Sit here,” Sehůn had said, patting the empty space beside him on the couch.
Kāi looked at it, then back at Sehůn, bewildered, feeling a strange unease tightening his chest. That’s not where he was supposed to be, his mind insisted, but Sehůn’s gaze was steady, unyielding, until, hesitantly, Kāi crawled up beside him, unsure, tense, and waiting to be corrected. Instead, he found Sehůn glancing sideways, acting disinterested, but Kāi caught the almost caring glint in his eyes that made something warm spread through his chest.
But in the next moment, the warmth drained from the room as well as everything else. The morning sunlight streaming from the floor to ceiling windows was replaced by the harsh artificial lightning from the training hall. Sehůn’s face melted back into Suhø’s, colder this time, a sneer curling on his lips. Kāi was standing, facing Suhø’s severe gaze. He felt himself tense, every muscle braced against an invisible weight, gaze firmly locked on Suhø’s shoes. His leader's eyes bore into him, a mixture of anger and disappointment or maybe irritation pinning him in his place.
“What in the everloving hell are you good for if you can’t withstand a little pain to do as you were ordered and bring one of them back with you?!” Suhø’s words crashed down like a wave, his voice dripping with disdain as he loomed over him, each syllable cold and as biting as seawater against an open wound. “All that training, all that work, and you still can’t handle it.”
Suhø’s gaze cut through Kāi like a blade. He stepped even closer forward, seizing his hands and lifting them up to his eye level, his eyes narrowing at the raw, frostbitten skin that marred the long fingers. The wounds were swollen and cracked, the edges bruised, painting them in deep blues and blacks where the frostbite clung stubbornly. The skin looked stretched too tightly over his knuckles, as if it might split open with the slightest movement. Kāi’s hands trembled slightly, both from the pain and the instinct to pull back, but Suhø’s grip held firm and Kāi knew better than to move without permission.
Suhø sneered before dropping the offending limbs roughly and Kāi held back a whimper that he wasn’t sure was wanting to break out more because of pain or the loss of contact. Without warning, Suho’s hand struck him sharply across the face, snapping Kāi’s head to the side. The sting bloomed hot against his cheek, a sharp contrast to the numbing cold that lingered in his fingers.
“Pathetic,” Suhø hissed, “Minseok should have been an easy target, and yet…” His voice was venomous, each word a blow to the already heavy weight in Kāi’s chest. The ache in his frozen, blistered fingers was nothing compared to the crushing shame that lodged itself in his chest, cold and heavy, growing with every word from Suhø ‘s mouth. Kāi hated disappointing his leader. He deserved being corrected.
“You are lucky I am the one in charge of your punishment.”, he smiled sardonically even as his voice dropped to a low, venomous murmur. “I’d take this over whatever The Makers would do to you.”
Kāi swallowed, his throat dry, and he nodded almost instinctively. Suhø was right, he always was, and Kāi clung to that certainty, even as it cut him deeply. At least here, he knew the rules, knew the boundaries of his failures and the punishments they brought. But with Red Force…there were no such limits. The image of the sterile white room crept back into his mind, and the idea of going back there sent an icy shiver down his spine.
The red strands of Suhø’s hair suddenly morphed, elongated until there was a crimson mask pulled over his mouth. His shame felt like everything around was drained of colour and all that remained was a stark, blinding whiteness all around him. Kāi blinked, his surroundings dissolving into a sterile white room conjured from the depths of his mind. His body was no longer braced in tension, awaiting Suhø’s command; he wasn’t even sure who Suhø was at that moment. He tried to move but he felt a thick belt restraining him by the chest, his arms bound by his side as well. He felt panic rising up to his throat. His body felt heavy and uncooperative as if submerged underwater.
He snapped his head from one side to the other, his pulse a loud, urgent beat as he took in the blinding white walls around him. It felt like the walls were watching, blank and merciless, swallowing every breath he took. In his frantic state it took him a good couple of seconds before his eyes finally locked onto two figures standing over him with their faces obscured behind red surgical masks. He suddenly felt small, like a child in their coldly clinical stare.
“Subject 88,” one of them muttered, checking a small screen beside the cot where Kāi was strapped down. The man’s movements were mechanical, efficient. He tapped away, making notes without a hint of hesitation or doubt, as if he had performed this exact process countless times before. The second man hovered nearby, his brows knitting in mild annoyance as he studied the clipboard in his hand.
“Disappointing,” he said flatly, as though noting the failures of a sentient being was as routine as charting the temperature of a petri dish. “Mentally unstable, heightened aggression, complete lack of social cohesion… none of the traits we predicted.”
Kāi’s breath came in ragged, uneven gulps, each inhale a struggle. The way they stared through him with eyes as cold as the steel instruments surrounding them made his skin prickle with a terrible dread. He couldn’t comprehend all the words they said, but he felt their weight, felt the sterile loathing radiate off them, cold and sharp. He couldn’t find words for the fear that flooded him; it was primal, raw, a deep compulsion that clawed its way up from the base of his spine, urging him to fight or flee. But the straps held him tight, and the chill of their dispassionate gazes made his body feel heavier, like he was sinking under their scrutiny and even his breathing felt caged. He felt awfully small in this white room and he looked around frantically again, searching for something or someone that felt marginally warmer.
At the foot of his cot, he noticed a woman in sharp off-white business attire. She stood with the same red surgical mask covering most of her face. He shivered fearfully, noticing her cold and calculating eyes as she surveyed him. Her presence radiated authority, and the two men seemed to defer to her, glancing toward her as if waiting for orders. She swiped for a second through her tablet, her gaze shifting between the screen and Kāi with a detached weariness. She seemed tired or perhaps bored of even being in the room with him. Her eyes screamed that she considered him nothing more than a nuisance. Her slender fingers tapped lightly against the tablet with impeccable stiletto manicure. The blood red polish caught his eye as the faint sound filled the otherwise silent room.
“Failure,” she announced, her voice smooth but distant, addressing the men without a trace of emotion. “The rest of the project yielded perfect subjects, but Subject 88… he’s substandard. Aggression is all good for what we need, however… His flaws lay with his instability, he seems to be driven purely by primal instinct,” she said, an edge of disdain colouring her voice, “the childlike curiosity is less than ideal as well. Nonviable.”
The word clanged in his head like a bell. Kāi’s chest tightened, his panic rising as the syllables burned themselves into his mind. They were talking about him, about erasing him, stopping him, as if he were nothing more than a faulty mechanism to be dismantled and discarded. His hands shook against the restraints as a primal, unnameable terror coiled in his stomach.
One of the men adjusted the strap on Kāi’s arm, pulling it so tight it pinched his skin. His thick eyebrows pulled in frustration. “He is the first one to not die in the tube during the maturation process...,” he informed her clinically. “Our mortality rate has reached unacceptable levels in this particular subject. Should we terminate this one as well?”
Kāi jerked against the restraints, his breaths now frantic, a whimper clawing its way out of his throat.
Don’t. No.
He didn’t understand everything they said, but terminate was a word he knew well, and it filled him with wild, thrashing desperation.
The woman let out a sigh, a sound that could almost be mistaken for weariness, but it was more like boredom, a faint flicker of irritation at the inconvenience. Her gaze dropped to Kāi, studying him with a kind of distant contempt. His heart slammed against his ribs as if trying to break free.
“We don’t have the resources to waste,” she said sharply, as though the very concept of budgets was an affront to her. “We’re halting further attempts until we can assess the reasons why this DNA has such a high failure rate with the cloning, while the rest show flawless results. In the meantime…”
She leaned closer, inspecting Kāi as though searching for something she might salvage. Kāi’s pulse pounded in his ears, he felt a mounting dread as he tried to not recoil at the look she sent him. He didn’t know what they were talking about. DNA? He barely could piece together their words, but he felt their meaning sink in like a knife. His mind was stuck in a loop, a silent plea for existence.
“Increase the tests,” she said decisively, her voice as cold and sharp as the restraints binding him. Her eyes narrowed, almost thoughtful. “We can try shock therapy. It might loosen some of those mental inhibitions. If not, then at least it might make him docile enough for some other purposes than originally planned.”
He felt a static fill his mind as her two subordinates started collecting equipment. The woman’s voice faded into the background as she began listing instructions, her words turning colder with every clinical suggestion. Her tone was remote, indifferent, and each word burrowed deeper into Kāi, sending a chill into his bones that seemed to sink into his very core. He wanted to scream. He trashed and bared his teeth as he saw colourful cables get attached to his temples.
Kyungsoo was bored out of his mind. When he came here to relieve Jongin of having to look at the unresponsive clones, he didn’t think it would be this uneventful. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for, he wasn’t really looking forward to those two causing trouble, but if he knew it would be like that today he would have brought his book here with him. He sighed, thinking longingly of the well-worn paperback sitting on his nightstand back in his room. A human science-fiction novel he’d found buried behind one of the cabinets. It was equal parts amusing and absurd, almost endearing in how much the author had gotten wrong about space travel and alien species. It was charmingly strange that humans still seemed to think of space as some untamed wilderness.
The two clones were mostly unresponsive, one being practically comatose and the other fast asleep. At least before, when he had to monitor them, there was this nagging fear they would either die or wake up and want to kill them. He stretched in the chair leisurely, head tilted to look at the ceiling. He was debating if it would be irresponsible to leave those two alone while he quickly ran to bring the book from his room.
Not having anything better to do, his gaze drifted to the two patients. The setting autumn sun cast an amber light through the infirmary window, painting the sterile walls with a red and orange hue. It softened everything, even the sight of Sehun’s clone. He was laying with his head cradled against Kāi’s criss-crossed thighs. Kyungsoo’s eyes lingered on the clone's gaunt and pallid face. Dark circles shadowed his eyes that even the grotesque scar on his eye couldn’t distract away from. The clone seemed barely hanging on, a ghost almost in this gentle light, even if his breathing was calm and steady.
Kāi, by contrast, looked oddly serene, like he was at peace with everything. He slept while almost half seated, slumped slightly to his left side with his head tilted just so, exposing the long line of his throat. One of his hands was buried gently in the other clone’s hair, fingers twined there as though to anchor him. The other was holding the sheet at the edge of the mattress in a loose and gentle grip.
It was almost mind boggling how those two murder machines could look so fragile and peaceful in their sleep.
He sighed as his peaceful pondering was abruptly broken with the arrival of Annoyance #1.
Baekhyun’s head popped through the door, his eyes flashing with mischief. Kyungsoo couldn’t have stopped the instinctive eye-roll even if he had wanted to, but the annoyance morphed into reluctant amusement as Baekhyun stepped fully into the room, strutting with his usual swagger. With a grin, he closed in and messed up Kyungsoo’s hair with an exaggerated flourish. Kyungsoo didn’t even look while slapping the offending limb away.
“You can’t withstand even ten seconds without being insufferable,” Kyungsoo sighed, shaking his head but unable to keep a faint smile from pulling at his lips.
“Oh come on.”, Baekhyun shot back with a teasing look. “I saw the joy on your face as I walked in. Your personal knight against boredom.”
“Sure, Baekhyun. For every second of your absence, I missed you more,” Kyungsoo replied, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
Baekyun grinned widely. He pretended to wipe an imaginary tear even, the absolute drama queen.
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. I think I might cry.” He then tilted his head, a little more serious. “But as much as I know you’d missed my company, I’m actually here on official business. Where did you put the cookbook? It’s my turn to make something actually edible, and if you all don’t want to get sick, you better hand it over.”
Kyungsoo raised an eyebrow.
“It should be in my room? If it’s not on the shelf or the nightstand then Jonginni might have moved it. You can ask him.”
Baekhyun flashed a cheeky grin, reaching to ruffle Kyungsoo’s hair one last time before jumping back with a delighted cackle as Kyungsoo whacked him in the back of the head for the disrespect.
“Ya, you want to die?”, Kyungsoo snapped with a playful edge.
“Thanks Soo-ya” Baekhyun said, unaffected, his grin as wide as ever.
In true Baekhyun fashion, he was gone as quickly as he’d arrived, leaving the infirmary in its serene, reddish glow. Kyungsoo looked back at the two sleeping figures, and shook his head softly. The chaos Baekhyun brought was a welcome jolt of life, but it was nice to have the room quiet again.
Kyungsoo returned to watching the two figures sprawled together on the bed, which was far too small to comfortably hold both of them. He settled comfortably in his chair and for the next couple of minutes he entertained himself by absentmindedly drumming his fingers on the desk beside him and humming a quiet tune to fill the stillness of the room in Baekhyun’s absence.
He could hear, from downstairs, Baekhyun banging around in the kitchen, rummaging through pots and pans with his usual, overzealous flair as their resident noise maker. With lack of things to do he noted immediately when Kāi seemed to cease his dreamless rest.
Kyungsoo observed as the clone's face shadowed with a hint of tension. It was subtle at first, just a faint stress line forming between his brows and minute twitching in the corner of his mouth. Kyungsoo noted as Kāi’s eyes moved faintly beneath the eyelids, tracing something his mind conjured in his dream.
Kyungsoo felt a faint curiosity and fascination as he looked at this; those products, copies of his teammates, artificially made, were also capable of dreaming. It made him consider if they were capable of everything they themselves were. He found himself wondering about the dreams, whether they were memories or something made up just in their minds. A thought struck him, if maybe, in different circumstances, they could have turned out differently. If they were capable of every thought and feeling he himself was, then it might have been just their upbringing and training that made them so psychotic.
As the moments passed, Kāi’s face became more animated, and not in a way that suggested peace. Kyungsoo watched with mild concern as a grimace twisted Kāi’s features, a shadow crossing his expression and his hands curled into tight fists. The fingers wrapped loosely around the sheets suddenly clenched with ferocity, and Kyungsoo’s gaze drifted to the other clone’s hair, tangled in Kāi’s grip. Kyungsoo might have felt bad for the other clone, if his comatose state didn’t prevent him from feeling the slight tugging at the hair.
A barely audible murmur slipped from his lips, though the words were impossible to make out, a strangled gibberish sound that sounded slightly desperate. Kyungsoo’s brow furrowed in mild worry, as he observed him growing more distressed with every passing minute. He considered leaning closer, maybe giving Kāi’s shoulder a shake, pulling him from whatever dark memory or nightmare was overtaking him. He stopped himself however; approaching the clones was a risk no matter the situation. There was no telling how an already distressed clone will react to seeing a face he might still consider belongs to an enemy. Kyungsoo would rather not end up dead, because the lunatic decided to teleport his fist into Kyungsoo’s lungs.
Kāi suddenly jerked, his head snapping to the other side in a violent motion before going back again, his face twisted into a harsh frown. Kyungsoo felt the urge to do something, to keep this from spiralling further, but he held himself back still.
He saw as the clone’s face grew more expressive, his tension mounting, fingers now gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles were bone-white. Kyungsoo debated if it was healthy, letting that kind of tension stay in hands that were broken and healing. Kāi’s lips parted, forming what looked like the start of a word, but nothing coherent came out. Just a shaky breath, almost a fearful whimper.
Kāi’s eyes snapped open.
Kyungsoo was instantly alert, he almost jumped out of his chair at the sudden change.
Kāi’s pupils were dilated, darting around the room in a frantic, disoriented sweep. For a moment, Kyungsoo saw nothing but terror on the clone’s face. It was something raw, an animalistic fear that clawed its way to the surface. Kāi’s chest heaved with each ragged breath. Kyungsoo saw as his hands trembled violently as he looked around. He noticed the mounting distress as Kāi’s gaze bounced from corner to corner, every wall of the makeshift infirmary.
Kyungsoo kept still, unwilling to make any sudden movement that might startle him further. The clone’s lips peeled back in a silent snarl anyway. Teeth bared as if Kyungsoo himself was a threat; a phantom from his nightmares brought to life or from the lingering animosity for his team.
Kāi’s fingers were shaking uncontrollably as Kyungsoo saw them suddenly jerking up to his temples, pressing into the skin as though trying to scrub away something unseen. His nails dug in as he clawed at the spot, eyes wide and wild, panic melting with anger. Leaving red lines from sharp nails as blood instantly welled up from those surface wounds.
Kyungsoo noticed as the clone suddenly took a sharp breath, head turned to his legs as he seemed to just notice the weight pinning him down. Kāi’s expression twisted, panic giving way to sheer horror. It seemed as if he saw something else in his distressed mind, the weight of the other clone's head mistaken for a restraint or other nightmarish phantom. His body went rigid.
Kyungsoo only had a second to comprehend as Kāi‘s body seemed to blur and with a staticy noise vanished from the cot, making Sehůn’s head drop onto the soft blankets.
Kyungsoo turned to the far corner of the room where Kāi was now crouched, half-hidden against the metal cabinet. He was hunched down, back pressed against the wall, shoulders tense, his posture radiating the aggression of a cornered animal. He stared wild-eyed at Kyungsoo, breathing hard and fast, fingers curled one against the floor and the other in front of him, ready to strike. His gaze darted, half in recognition and half in paranoia around the room.
In the soft reddish glow of the setting sun, Kyungsoo could see the prominent tremors in Kāi’s hands. The way his fingers twitched every few seconds as though still feeling some phantom sensations.
Kāi’s eyes seemed to finally lock on him, unreadable, somewhere between fury and fear. Kyungsoo wasn’t sure what to do but he held his gaze, trying to remain calm. Kyungsoo took a slow, careful breath putting his hands up in a calming gesture. He took a step forward but it only made the other hunch over more and hiss at him.
He suppressed a shiver and spoke in a steady, low and as calm as he could tone. “Kāi, it’s okay… Er, You are safe here…”, he took a step closer. “I am not going to hurt you, I promise.”
Kāi’s eyes flitted between Kyungsoo’s hands and his face, distrust sharpening every line of his expression. The tremble in his hands hadn’t stopped, and his fingers went rigid, primed for defence. Kyungsoo dared to come another step closer, inching carefully with bated breath. He hunched over a little, debating crouching completely to not loom over the frightened creature but in the end decided it would put him at a too vulnerable position.
Kāi’s eyes narrowed, gaze flickering between Kyungsoo and all the medical equipment around him. Kyungsoo for a brief second worried that a scalpel or anything else sharp was left haphazardly out in the open.
Kyungsoo tried again, his voice barely above a whisper, soft and gentle.
“It’s okay. Remember? You came to us for help? No one is trying to hurt you here now.”
His words barely seemed to register. Kāi’s breathing only grew faster, his teeth shiny and on display, clenched tightly, almost painfully so. As Kyungsoo dared to move another half a step closer he caught the sudden flash of movement. A swipe aimed for his face with the long nails going in for his eyes. Kyungsoo jerked back just in time, avoiding being hit, as he felt only the faint graze on his cheek millimetres from the corner of his left eye.
“Okay… okay.” Kyungsoo shuffled a little backwards, not flinching, but he could feel his pulse hammering in his neck. “I did get too close, right?”
Kāi’s breathing was still laboured, his gaze darting, not absorbing the room and still haunted by his nightmare.
Kyungsoo didn’t move farther, letting his gaze rest on the clone’s hunched form. Kāi was crouched, cornered, still eyeing him with suspicion that bordered on hatred and his whole posture screamed danger. Kyungsoo couldn’t shake the feeling that if he moved too quickly, he’d see those familiar hands curl into fists and teleport straight at him or straight through him. Kyungsoo wished there was literally anyone else here with him right now to deal with this. He stayed still, refusing to let any frustration show, and wondered what he was supposed to do here. He was not very good at comforting even his own teammates, so he was out of his depth here.
Suddenly there was a slight cough before a weak groan cut through the thick air, barely more than a rasp.
“That’s …. Fuck…” he stopped with a quiet pained moan, “That’s not how you deal with him, moron.”
Kyungsoo silently cursed the idle wish he’d had earlier for something to break the boredom of just looking at the two clones, because now he had a panicked aggression filled psychopath who already tried to gouge out his eye and apparently he also had to deal with a freshly out of the coma clone as well. Kyungsoo looked up at the ceiling pleading inwardly for any kind of divine patience and strength if anyone was listening.
“Kāi”, his voice was quiet, pained and hoarse from disuse, but there was this commanding edge to it, that left no room for disobedience. The moment Sehůn uttered the word, Kāi seemed to freeze on the spot. He lost the wild look to him, leaving his face eerily blank. His posture relaxed, his muscles suddenly loose as if the tension had been syphoned away by the voice alone. Kāi’s head swayed a little before his gaze focused on the source of the voice.
“Come here.”, there was once again this ironclad command heard in the voice, that promised a world of trouble if left ignored. Kyungsoo couldn’t help but notice that he almost seemed reluctant or pained using that tone, as though using it carried a weight of its own.
It was like a spell was put on Kāi, his face softened, the aggressive posture melting into something almost reverent. A strange, serene smile touched his lips as he half-crawled, half-stumbled over to Sehůn’s bedside to kneel beside it. He lifted his bandaged hands in an almost unconscious gesture, positioning them so Sehůn could see the injuries, as if awaiting acknowledgment. He looked at Sehůn’s visibly sick and frail form with a slight mad glint to his eyes and he grinned widely. Sehůn’s corner of the lip weakly twitched upwards before setting into a passive look.
“Good”, he sounded marginally softer, “That was a dream Kāi, you had those before.”
Kyungsoo observed as Kāi nodded quickly and eagerly, his expression transforming with almost childlike joy at Sehůn’s reassurance, as if Sehůn had given him the most important revelation in the world. Like, of course, someone was telling Kāi he knew something so he had to have known it. It was as sad as it was endearing.
Sehůn let out a sigh, one heavy with exhaustion and something more complex. Kyungsoo noticed the tension in his brows and the way his lips pressed into a thin line, maybe from pain, maybe from frustration. Yet Kāi remained oblivious, gazing up at Sehůn like he’d spun the stars themselves into existence and the moon was up in the sky only thanks to him. The devotion in that look was so intense, so heartbreakingly honest, that Kyungsoo had to look away.
“You.. okay.”, Kāi sounded so unbelievably happy, it was almost disturbing. How that tone could fit him in a vulnerable moment like this when the last time Kyungsoo heard it was during battle when he gutted a human soldier with his bare hands at Junmyeon’s clone’s command and asked if he did well.
Sehůn’s lips pulled downwards slightly. His eyes blinked slowly enough that Kyungsoo wasn’t sure if the clone didn’t fall back into unconsciousness. However they did open and his gaze drifted over to Kyungsoo, wary and evaluating, as though assessing if Kyungsoo’s presence posed a threat in this delicate moment.
“Everything… hurts,” he muttered finally, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with fatigue and rough to hear. Kyungsoo wanted to go and pour them both a glass of water but he doubted it would be a welcomed gesture right now.
Kāi’s reaction was immediate, his gentle look of devotion and happiness pulled back and twisted into a mild worry and helplessness. Kāi’s hands hesitated in the air, wanting to reach out but trembling with the uncertainty of how best to offer comfort.
Sehůn swallowed, his exhaustion evident as he lifted one weak hand to put the other’s hands back down. His breathing picked as if even that small gesture took a lot out of him. His face pulled into a look of barely contained agony. Kyungsoo saw his lips twitch a little, looking slightly resigned with little to no humour in his eyes.
“Kāi,” he began, his voice soft. “Come on. You’re not… sit up here, not on the floor.” His words were audibly practised, there was rehearsed patience of someone who said the same thing countless times before. Kyungsoo wondered if that was the case. Kāi, ever attuned to Sehůn’s tone, straightened and hesitantly began to stand, looking around as if something would jump at him from shadows at any moment.
However before he could move to sit beside his companion on the cot, Sehůn's expression tightened again with pain. His fragile strength seemed to begin faltering and Kāi’s reaction was instantaneous. He glanced at Sehůn with renewed determination, single minded and guided by the sole impulse of fixing whatever hurt Sehůn was experiencing. In one sudden motion, Kāi vanished, soundlessly marking his exit as he teleported out of the room, leaving only an empty space where he’d knelt a heartbeat ago.
Kyungsoo’s heart stilled, his eyes wide as he processed what had just happened.
“Oh no,” he whispered, panic lacing his voice as he shot a quick glance at Sehůn. The reality hit him: a clone as unpredictable and volatile as Kāi had slipped his control.
Yixing was utterly drained. Between exhausting his healing powers while tending to the injured clones and getting dragged to them every time they so much as twitched in distress, he felt like he couldn’t catch a single breath. He understood his team’s trepidation, the clones were in rough shape and after agreeing to help them, no one wanted their condition to deteriorate further. And, of course, his team always relied on him for medical prowess when he was around. That didn’t mean he had to be with those two every second of the day, did it?
It was a relief when Jonginni showed up, and Yixing could finally have a real long break in what seemed like forever.
The first thing he did was take a long, hot shower. He felt like all he could smell recently was the antiseptic that almost clung to his skin. Not to mention the latex gloves had left his hands feeling raw and dry. He mentally apologised to the rest of the team after using all the allotted hot water for the day. He considered if maybe Jongdae could check on the boiler and maybe zap it into working better? Yixing wasn’t sure how Earth’s electricity powered appliances worked, but back home usually more power ment better results so it stood to reason that it couldn’t be that much different here.
Stepping out of the shower, he finally felt like a person and not a glorified resuscitator.
Feeling marginally better ment he could finally feel his stomach growling so he shuffled to the kitchen and heated up one of the canned soups, mindful not to spoil himself by eating too much since dinner promised the long awaited treat of meat filled meal. He smiled at Junmyeon, who was seated in their dining hall, as he swallowed his meal in big gulps. His leader was absorbed in their journals and Yixing doubted the man even registered his presence before he was out the door again.
He felt blessed with nothing to do for the next couple hours. He silently thanked his brothers for granting it to him this time to relax. He would need every ounce of rest especially when he will most than likely have to pull one of his patients out of a coma as the moon rises. The thought made his shoulders sag a little.
He stepped back to his room with a burning need to take a nap. His room was very cosy even if quite small in size, tucked away almost at the corner of the mension with walls covered in faded wallpaper that once upon a time had a vibrant floral pattern and now was so muted it almost seemed beige. When he came in, the purple curtains caught his eye as they billowed in the autumn breeze that filtered through the open window, nearly toppling two of his potted plants that were perched on a narrow shelf near the window. He carefully adjusted the pots further back on the shelf, before closing the window.
The plants were his pride and joy. He tended to them diligently as a hobby, fascinated with the diversity of Earth’s flora. They grew lush and vibrant under his care, so much that he often joked he had quite a green thumb, but part of him wondered if his natural healing energy didn’t just seep out of him even without his direct will and influencing them.
With the window latched shut and his plants safe, Yixing turned to his bed, its soft linens calling to him and within minutes after burning his face in the pillow he was out cold.
It couldn’t have been that much later when Yixing was forcefully yanked out of his blissful sleep. His body jolted awake as rough hands gripped his shoulders, shaking him violently. The serene world of dreams shattered like glass. With eyes barely open, still fogged with sleep, Yixing instinctively reached up to fend off his attacker. His fist collided with tense muscles while the other reached for the dagger he kept on his nightstand. Before he could draw blood from his attacker, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he tried to focus his sleep-addled brain, his armed hand was being intercepted and disarmed.
His drowsiness fading instantly he could finally recognise the figure that was the perpetrator of his rude awakening. Kāi’s breathing was erratic, his chest heaving as if he’d just run miles. Yixing felt mounting dread as Kāi’s wild, panicked eyes bored into his. Yixing opened his mouth to question him, why after they helped them the clone was once again trying to kill them. Yixing felt more disappointed with this turn of events than afraid. He started to care for these monsters and the bitter sting of betrayal hurt.
Before a word could form, Kāi bared his teeth, an expression so primal it sent the first jolt of terror through Yixing. The clone didn’t wait for permission, yanking him upright with shocking force. Yixing felt cold sweat on his temples as he was suddenly forcefully pinned with a forearm around his throat, back moulded against the hard planes of the clone’s chest.
Yixing yelped, fumbling to regain balance and struggling against the sudden strong hold the other had on him, freezing only when the arm around his throat tightened, threatening to choke him. The next moment, the world disappeared in a suffocating blur of shadow and displacement.
He felt all of a sudden as though he were being torn apart at the seams, yanked through the eye of a needle, stretched impossibly thin, and crushed under the icy weight of a boundless void. The urge to scream clawed at him, though he couldn’t be sure if the sound escaped or if he lost the ability to do that. It ended as abruptly as it began, yet it also felt like the teleportation stretched for all time in that fleeting moment.
They reappeared in the infirmary, the disorienting change of lightning and sound crushing into him like an avalanche. He staggered out of Kāi’s loosened grasp, collapsing against the wall and barely managed to lunge towards a nearby trash can. Violent retching filled the small space as his stomach rebelled against the disorienting trip. He felt a gentle hand pat him at the back as he tried to compose himself.
“Goddess,” he rasped, swiping a trembling hand across his mouth. His voice cracked as he spat into the can again. “What… what the fuck was that?!” He barked, before another wave of nausea hit, and he groaned miserably. “Fuck… I didn’t know how gross this feeling could be.”
Yixing turned, still green-faced, to glare at Kāi. Kyungsoo standing right next to him looking ready to murder the clone, with his hand hovering at Yixing’s back ready to catch him if the dizziness made him stumble.
“Never do that again. You…” He cut himself off, noticing the clone hadn’t moved, his gaze pinned elsewhere.
Yixing’s eyes followed his line of sight, just now noticing that the other clone was awake. The frail clone’s face was twisted in thinly masked agony, his hands twisted into the bedding so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. The clone’s breaths came in ragged gasps, beads of sweat rolling down his grey-ish skin.
Yixing forced himself to take a step closer to the teleporter, his legs still trembling from the jump. His healer’s heart clenched at the sight of Sehůn’s pain, but irritation flared hotly in his chest. He turned to Kāi, voice sharp with uncharacteristic anger.
“You think this gives you the right to attack us?! Me?!” he snapped, jabbing his thumb at his chest. “You two live out of our - out of mine good will! You don’t get to do as you please here! We were treating you more or less as guests for now, but best believe you can become prisoners as well!”
Kāi whimpered, his aggression simmering down before he fell down on his knees like a puppet without strings. Yixing heard Kyungsoo utter a questioning sound, before taking a step forward almost instinctively to keep the other from falling before stopping.
The room fell silent for a moment, save for Sehůn’s strained breaths as he looked at the scene and the argument with an unreadable expression. For a second nothing happened and then Kāi shuffled forward until he was at Yixing’s bare feet looking down. Curled almost into himself, as if awaiting some kind of retribution.
“I… good now. Help Sehůn? Please?”, it was barely audible, rasped harshly as Kāi’s voice tended to be.
Yixing exhaled sharply, annoyance flashing across his face. Without a word, he spun on his heel and marched to Sehůn’s cot, each step deliberate and heavy, fearing he would actually swipe at the clone at his feet.
“Kyungsoo, make yourself useful and get me the IV bag.”, Yixing said through clenched teeth. He tried to temper his tone, but it still came out slightly clipped, enough that Kyungsoo merely nodded before starting to rummage in their medical supplies.
“You… You need to tell him to stand.”, Yixing flinched when the hoarse voice of the other clone filled the room. “He will stay like that otherwise.”
He snapped his head around, half expecting the other to just jump and attack him again. Confusion crept into his furrowed brow as his eyes landed on Kāi, who remained rooted in the exact position as before, his rigid frame unmoving. Yixing blinked twice in consternation.
“Okay Kāi… You can stand up, go to your bed before you tear your stitches.”
The startled look Kāi gave him made Yixing roll his eyes, though he couldn’t help but huff, in amusement as the clone scrambled to obey, his movements fast and precise.
“Let’s fix you up now…” Yixing said with a resigned sigh, already reaching for the supplies Kyungsoo handed over, the remnant frustration still simmering beneath his calm exterior.
Notes:
Hope you liked it, i loved writing the dream sequence even tho it was hard making the scene changes have the dream like feel to them. We love x-suho in this house even when he is a monster.
I have so much ideas for the x-sekai and don't know how much of it i can fit into the story so i just might write a seprate drabbe book for all the little scene ideas i have for them after i finish this story.I am no doctor so don't blame me for any inaccuracies about the health conditions of anyone, if you think something is unrealistic just blame it on the alien or clone physiology.
I am also not a psychiatrist so I hope I am not offending anyone with my portrayal of x-Kai.Its Christmas time and unfortunately i don't have that much time during so don't expect chapter 7 next week. I might be able to post it but more than likely the next chapter will be after New Year's . I'm sorry about it.
amazingficmydear (Guest) on Chapter 1 Fri 02 Dec 2022 06:52PM UTC
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Screaming_Pumpkin on Chapter 1 Sun 04 Dec 2022 08:23PM UTC
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Kaiscoming (Guest) on Chapter 1 Wed 01 Mar 2023 02:19AM UTC
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Spooky_Wagons on Chapter 2 Mon 05 Dec 2022 12:46PM UTC
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Screaming_Pumpkin on Chapter 2 Mon 05 Dec 2022 01:41PM UTC
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asombrosoficmydear (Guest) on Chapter 2 Thu 08 Dec 2022 03:10AM UTC
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Lulluci on Chapter 2 Mon 26 Dec 2022 09:53PM UTC
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Screaming_Pumpkin on Chapter 2 Thu 21 Nov 2024 08:33PM UTC
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Sweetliesme (Guest) on Chapter 2 Sat 14 Jan 2023 08:09PM UTC
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Screaming_Pumpkin on Chapter 2 Thu 21 Nov 2024 08:34PM UTC
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Ericaexol on Chapter 4 Fri 29 Nov 2024 11:51PM UTC
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Screaming_Pumpkin on Chapter 4 Sat 30 Nov 2024 12:13PM UTC
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junmyeonieeeee on Chapter 5 Tue 17 Dec 2024 10:15AM UTC
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Screaming_Pumpkin on Chapter 5 Fri 20 Dec 2024 10:25AM UTC
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blublublah on Chapter 6 Thu 26 Dec 2024 10:28PM UTC
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Screaming_Pumpkin on Chapter 6 Sun 29 Dec 2024 09:38AM UTC
Last Edited Sun 29 Dec 2024 09:38AM UTC
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