Chapter 1: The very first time I remember you, you are blonde, and you don’t love me back.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
I.
Jungwon methodically lifts the nearly completed blade from the roaring hearth. He dips the molten metal into the water basin, quenching the glowing core while steam consumes the forge.
He’s filing down the last imperfections along the sharpened katana, fingers raw and sore, his back starting to stiffen with how long he’s held his half-bent position, when he hears the tinkling of the bell signaling the customer entrance opening. Jungwon sets the newly forged katana amidst the leather wrappings on the workshop table.
On days like this, he kind of wishes he had an apprentice with how unexpectedly renowned the smithery had become in the past few years. It’s good hard work though and a much needed distraction that gives him purpose with what remains of his life. He’s not even sure how it happened but he’s grateful for honing a reputation for being the best swordsmith on this side of the kingdom.
The customer is a handsome young man Jungwon has never seen around before. There are streaks of light running through his hair like the spring sunshine filtering through the leaves of the forest back home. Jungwon glances at the katana in his hand, the defined markings of a familiar crest set above an elegant crimson tassel dangling from the hilt.
Only katanas belonging to the royal guard carry those bearings.
He’s never had a royal guard as a customer though he’s heard stories of their prowess and skills as well as their arrogance and political power. Jungwon dips into a bow in greeting. Something loosens in his chest when it’s returned with the same care and respect.
“Welcome, my name is Yang Jungwon. How can I be of service to you?”
“Nishimura Riki,” comes the response, the timbre of his voice smooth and the shape of his words rich with an accent Jungwon can’t quite place. “I was hoping you could fix this.” The royal guard holds out his sword sheepishly as he lets Jungwon unsheathe and inspect the blade.
There’s an unfortunate nick near the bottom edge. It can’t have been received from a lack of experience. Jungwon purses his lips, giving the katana back hilt-first. “Swing it for me.”
Nishimura Riki blinks and questions line his eyes but none slip from his tongue. Wordlessly, he slashes at the air between them a few times and Jungwon nods, his conjecture confirmed.
“The blade isn’t balanced for your stature and strength,” he explains. “It’s too heavy for your hands and not flexible enough for your skills.”
“So I need another one forged?” He says it like this isn’t the first time he’s felt his katana wasn’t fit for his hands though he hides it well. The disappointment is etched only in the lines around his eyes.
Jungwon shakes his head and sends the royal guard a reassuring smile. “I can fix it up in a few hours.”
He expects for the royal guard to leave after explaining the payment and leaving his initial deposit. It’s what most of his customers do when they commission a piece.
Instead, Nishimura Riki lingers. Jungwon finds it a bit nerve-wracking at first with a royal guard’s presence only separated by the threshold between the display racks and his forge. He catches the other circling back to the meteorite cradled in winter decor upon the mantle.
When Nishimura Riki tentatively asks what it is, Jungwon finds he doesn’t mind the quiet company as much as he thought, launching into the story. Nishimura Riki actively listens and there’s genuine interest in his expression, so unlike any of the other town guards who drop by the smithery.
Despite Jungwon’s earlier reservations of the royal guard, Riki stays the entire time he’s sharpening his blade and attaching a new hilt, his presence laidback. He’s surprised at how much he enjoys the companionship, usually finding the intense and wandering stares distracting for those who do choose to wait. It’s different with Riki. He asks about Jungwon, seems to have a sincere desire in knowing him beyond his sword craft, and shares little pieces from his own life too.
By the end of it, Jungwon can almost taste the salt of the seas, picturing Edo in all its glory. His own stories revolved around his customers and his childhood exploring the forests and mountains surrounding the town.
Riki’s eyes are warm as they part, his gratitude evident in a gummy smile as he swings the reforged blade with wonder, finally balanced in his hands.
Jungwon thinks that’s the first and last time he’ll see the royal guard, carefully tucking the bubbles of contentment into the recesses of his mind.
But then Riki comes back and keeps coming back.
A nick in his katana, a new dagger for a friend in the guard, repairing a shoulder brace for his armor damaged from an ambush, a shield designed for stealth combat.
Jungwon starts keeping track of the months by Riki’s visits and it’s too easy to miss his presence, to look forward to when he returns between his monthly rotations. It’s the start of winter where he’s bringing out more lanterns to hang by the smithery’s entrance and his breaths puff white away from the forge that Jungwon realizes he had given his heart.
Riki drops by the smithery as predicted but he’s not alone. There’s another royal guard with him, a few years older, features cut from marble and shoulders cut from steel.
Riki introduces him as Park Sunghoon, his “partner”, and all Jungwon can think is Oh.
When Sunghoon steps out for a short while and Jungwon teases Riki, his ears bloom pink the more he tries to dodge Jungwon’s remarks. Sunghoon comes back with enough warm food cradled in his coat for the three of them plus an extra meal for Jungwon to have for dinner.
He’s skilled and handsome and kind. Jungwon can’t even find it in himself to be jealous. He genuinely enjoys Sunghoon’s company too and refuses to let any bittersweet feelings linger.
After that visit, Riki rarely comes by the smithery alone.
Jungwon sees the lingering glances, the way Sunghoon’s eyes are bright when Riki is speaking, the way they move around each other with ease and attentiveness, the way Riki bumps their shoulders together, their heads close while they converse. Partners, truly. And although Riki is a little oblivious and flatly denies any interest, Jungwon knows. After all, he sees that warmth and longing reflected in the quenching basin every time Riki visits his smithery.
Only, Riki’s heart has never belonged to Jungwon. He’s always known Riki was untouchable for someone like him.
But Jungwon would be lying if he said there’s a piece of him that doesn’t ache deep inside.
The candle flame flickers in the wind as he sees them off again, scattering shadows against the snow and ivy, turning the cobblestones a burnt saffron. Like they’ve taken the light with them. Jungwon breathes in the icy cold before turning back to the solitude of his forge.
Maybe in another life.
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Notes:
Awww Jungwonie;;; Niki with blonde-streaked hair will always be one of his best looks, who wouldn't fall for him
Dark Blood's concept trailer was a cinematic masterpiece and I definitely had to do something with that knowledge -- It's honestly so impressive Sunghoon and Niki not only learned sword choreography but like diligently trained with stuntmen too and even replicated their fight in the En O' Clock Blockbuster eps
I promise the rest of the story isn't this bittersweet. Our bois will find their way back to each other, one way or another ^-^
[Edit] I did want to say that in light of recent developments, I know it's a pretty difficult time for a lot of folks. There's a lot of anxiety and uncertainty and fear with what's been going on around the world, across every industry and sector. I feel like I say this every week whether with coworkers or friends or family but literally current events are insane rn like wtf is even happening 🫠
I hope everyone is taking care of themselves, connecting with loved ones, and focusing on the little pockets of joy in our lives. Please support one another during this time! We'll make it through one step at a time.
Chapter 2: The next time, you are brunette, and you do.
Notes:
Aaaaand we're going dark for this chapter because that's just the kind of writer I am lmao
Nothing is too graphic (I think, I hope) and it's still softer and more hopeful than the content warnings look but definitely proceed with caution!
[CW: Corporate exploitation, slavery, horror, blood, mentions of offscreen deaths]
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
II.
A month into training, Jungwon and the other new recruits are shoved into a nondescript room somewhere near the onboard forensics facility. Teenage voices murmur in range and pitch but mostly, in confusion, masking the undercurrent of trepidation and fear.
They’ve never met the handlers but all the recruits have learned they like surprises. Unfortunately, the surprises are rarely pleasant for them. Days into their technical training, gravity oscillations had slammed them throughout the space transport and they were brutally drilled on how to prioritize the mission, regardless of what life-threatening situations there may be.
Then there was the fact of the missing meal packages. Instead of the one hundred neatly managed protein blocks, fiber containers and supplements, the daily supply had been cut down to seventy. Last week, that supply had decreased to fifty.
Now, there’s this. Beside him, Riki, who he shares a bunk with, presses their shoulders together. His chestnut colored hair is ruffled. Jungwon stamps down the urge to pull him closer.
Riki is just another kid who didn’t sign up for this. He conducts everything with an air of frigidness so icy, Jungwon had steered clear of his cutting looks and edgy high-strung attitude. Jungwon barely saw him between the tactical trainings, the biome studies and the blaster simulations that always hurt like hell anyways.
Now though, he’s one of the few people Jungwon knows by name and sure, even though their interactions don't go beyond stiff pleasantries, he’s at least somewhat familiar.
When the lights come back on, only Jungwon and Riki remain in the room which is much smaller than it had been when they entered.
Jungwon blinks owlishly at Riki who frowns back before observing the minimally decorated walls. Yet another simulation.
Set against one side is the image of a piano, the keys yellowed with time. Along the back wall, a parched rectangle makes up what Jungwon thinks is supposed to be balcony doors, the hue faded and the fake sunlight shining from the panels of the doors turning the room a depressing gray-gold.
Something drips on Jungwon’s cheek, viscous and wet. He won’t admit it but he’s afraid to wipe it off. It stays put until Riki turns with his lips parted only for dark eyes to narrow on Jungwon’s face. Another drip, this time sizzling as it lands on the floor by Riki’s feet. They both angle their heads toward the ceiling.
Red.
Jungwon can’t even comprehend what he’s seeing. Then it starts raining, crimson and burning into their skin, the scent of metal and bitterness crushing his senses.
Riki’s hand finds Jungwon’s and his eyes are wide with terror. Even so, he manages to tug Jungwon to the corner by the piano, shedding his jacket and holding it above their heads as a shield against whatever human remains were coming down.
Jungwon swallows down the bile that threatens to come up his throat.
“I think we’re supposed to get out of here somehow,” Riki says, the calmness cracking as his voice shakes.
“That’s the mission,” Jungwon realizes. “Our mission.”
Because everything is a game here. Because their lives don’t matter. Because there are millions of other orphans in the mines that the handlers can take. Jungwon stares at Riki and sees mirrored determination amidst an innocence he’s sure he once carried somewhere deep inside.
In that moment, Jungwon dedicates his life to a different mission.
They get out of that room after Jungwon locates one of the cameras by touch within the ersatz clock, knowing they were being watched, and Riki short-circuits the paneling behind the device, flooding the hallway beyond the suddenly open door with blood.
Their exposed skin is raw and tender to the touch as they stumble into filtered air without the scent of cloying sweet iron. The brown of Riki’s hair is rustic with dried blood. Jungwon tries not to think about the others who may have spent too long trying to escape, if their bodies are recycled for another purpose.
He’s no longer sure how many of these surprises are truly surprises. They’re training for something that’s never been made clear to them. They have no way of contacting anyone outside of the transport unless they want to be lasered to death getting to the bridge like that one boy who had tried in their first weeks. Even if they wanted to, most of them are nobodies with no one to care whether they were somewhere safe or left in pieces on the streets or spaced in some unknown star system.
It’s like some kind of macabre survival experiment. Maybe the corporates were looking to colonize another moon or maybe they were simply bored.
That’s the theory Jungwon whispers to Riki late into the night when they’re pressed tightly together in Jungwon’s bed to share what little warmth there is under the thin blankets. The younger agrees, figuring it’s pretty easy to control someone’s life and death in a space transport when said controller isn’t on deck too.
Since that room, Jungwon thinks he passed some kind of test with Riki. The younger initiates conversations with him, quiet and almost shy in the beginning, and then Jungwon sees Riki smile for the first time, the light blooming across his features. He feels something unravel in his chest, not unpleasant.
He wonders if this is what it’s like to have someone who cares.
They start seeking each other out if their trainings align. At some point, Jungwon starts a daily check-in, leaving notes on their bunks when their schedules run in circles, exchanging stories about their days when they can crawl into bed together for a rest period, talking about the remnants of their past and the memories of challenging yet simpler times.
Jungwon goes from barely seeing Riki to seeing him in everything he does, the little dog-shaped button on the mechanical training panels serves as a reminder to Riki’s love for puppies (and a reminder that Riki himself is sometimes like an overexcited puppy), wishing for his presence during assigned partner evaluations, saving the dried berries from the mess hall when they’re in stock so Riki can rehydrate them in warm water as a snack, recording a quick shot on his personal console when he finds an interesting choreography that wasn’t censored during investigative training.
There are times he maybe stares too long. He doesn’t think friends stare at each other with the kind of want curling in his chest, in his bones. His only consolation is that he catches Riki looking back sometimes as if he’s trying to piece together a puzzle only he can see.
When Jungwon has bad nights, Riki takes to holding him in his bed, humming songs Jungwon can never quite remember in tune, only in feelings of solace and warmth.
Once, when Jungwon’s gaze lingers after Riki passes him a cup of hot chocolate he may or may not have pilfered, Riki leans down and presses their lips together. Chaste. Sweet.
They kiss in stolen moments and they never talk about it afterwards.
They don’t really need to, Jungwon supposes. Nothing much changes between them.
Their cohort numbers dwindle and Jungwon tries not to think too hard about where the missing teenagers went. It all comes down to one last mission.
Sign or die.
They’re all well aware the labor contract is a binding lifelong servitude. It’s slavery no matter how much the handlers commend the paradisiacal colony and all of its beauty: another prison.
So when there are only a dozen teenagers, half-dead and barely standing, left on this dying transport, Jungwon takes the blaster from his bag and shoots every camera in the report room.
“They are not going to like that,” one of the older girls warns. He’s always found the intensity of her gaze a little intimidating. There’s a new scar running down her ear and neck, fresh and painfully red.
Jungwon gestures towards the contract. “Be my guest.”
No one steps forward to sign. The twelve of them are survivors, after all. The corporates have trained them with every version of their hell as well as every known terrain and biome, every mechanical failure the transport could have, every blaster and firearm the transport carried. They’ve been taught by the best to exploit any situation.
On the bridge, after they’ve shifted the hyperdrive and taken off to a colony, Riki asks him why.
And Jungwon’s answer is complicated but maybe it doesn’t have to be. He drinks in the starlight reflected in Riki’s eyes and turning his hair amber, the angular beginnings of sharpening cheekbones, the fullness of his lips. Their fingers are touching on the screen console before them and Jungwon takes a calculated risk.
“Because you were my new mission.”
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Notes:
Then they sail off to a peaceful system where they find the rest of Enhypen :D I really dive into my science-fiction era during the winter for escapism huh
The experiment / simulation Jungwon and Niki were forced to escape from is drawn from the Drunk-Dazed MV and that one scene where the room drips blood
Anyways hope yall enjoyed! Will be back soon with the next update 😊
Chapter 3: After a while, I give up trying to guess if the colour of your hair means anything…
Chapter Text
III.
It’s a slower day at the restaurant, quiet enough for Jungwon to write a good chunk of his lab report in between waiting the tables that are occupied with couples and families.
When the next draft of cold air brushes through the restaurant, Jungwon sets aside his work and observes the newcomer being led to a cozy corner booth. He’s young, probably around Jungwon’s age and clearly nervous, dressed in slacks cinched tightly at the waist, hands fluttering around a stiff collar and fixing wind-tousled hair.
He glances around with wide eyes, gaze lingering on the chandelier overhead, before taking the wine menu handed to him with a bow. The light catches deep purple along the edges of his hair, curling gently around his ears and resting on his brows. Subtle.
It looks good, Jungwon notes absent-mindedly.
Jungwon gives him a couple of minutes to settle down and gathers some glasses and a new pitcher in his arms. The newcomer already looks overwhelmed enough for his upcoming date that Jungwon hopes it goes well for his sake.
“Good evening,” Jungwon dips his head as he approaches, sliding the glasses onto the table. “My name is Jungwon and I’ll be taking care of you this evening. Is there anything you’d like to get started with?”
Slender eyes find his and Jungwon has half a second to appreciate how the stranger toes the line between handsome and absolutely adorable before his features are scolded into forced composure. He points hesitantly at the famously marked pinot noir on the menu. “How is this?”
“That’s a great choice,” he compliments. “I would recommend pairing that with the tea smoked duck for the best flavor.”
“Then maybe I’ll have one bottle of that.” His gaze darts to the empty booth across from him. Jungwon kindly doesn’t comment on how his fingers are trembling when Jungwon passes the dinner menu over.
He doesn’t usually chat with his patrons unless it comes naturally, preferring to do his job and do it well without the unnecessary drain on his social battery. Perhaps he wants the other to feel reassured, perhaps he’s bored due to the slower evening, but Jungwon finds himself lingering, fussing over non-existent wrinkles in the tablecloth.
“I’m guessing this is your first visit?”
“That obvious?” The stranger says with a light-hearted scoff. The small curl of his lips brightens his features.
“Don’t worry too much. The food here is good.” Jungwon smiles. “I only have two other tables tonight. If you need me, for anything, feel free to wave me down.”
He receives a tentative smile back and the chandelier lights sparkle in ebony eyes. “That’s very nice of you.”
Jungwon nods and walks away a little fervently before he does something stupid. Like sitting down across from the cute stranger.
When he brings out the wine, he limits his interactions to be cordially short and with one order of a light appetizer dish. If his grin isn’t as painfully practiced while speaking with the cute purple-haired stranger, no one needs to know. He returns quickly to his other tables for their rounds of dessert.
He busies himself cleaning up some of the winter decor near the entrance and reorganizing the shelves, sneaking occasional glances at the sole figure in the corner booth.
Another half an hour passes where Jungwon checks up on the stranger twice more and is told with less certainty and more agitation that he’s still waiting. The appetizer dish sits on the table, untouched.
Jungwon starts to worry when he realizes he only has an hour left on his shift and the stranger’s table would likely get passed to another server who might be impatient for them to leave as closing ticked nearer.
Had there been a mistake? There was no way someone that handsome could get stood up, right?
Jungwon is clearing off another server’s table, the server somewhere flirting with the sous chef probably, trying not to steal more glances at the corner booth, when he catches movement to his right. He straightens as the cute stranger shoots him a wobbly smile, dejection marring his frame. In one hand, he has the mostly full bottle of pinot noir.
“Apologies, um, Jungwon? Is there a way – can I pay for just this?”
It takes Jungwon a few moments to realize he’s leaving. “What about food?” he blurts out and then catches himself. “I mean, aren’t you going to be hungry without dinner?”
The stranger shrugs, gaze forlorn as he looks back at the empty table with the glasses of untouched wine. “I don’t have much of an appetite.”
Jungwon bites his lips. “I’m sorry they didn’t show.”
“It’s okay,” the stranger breathes out, resigned. “It was just a first date anyways. She honestly didn’t sound that interested.”
How anyone wouldn’t be interested or even lacked the basic respect to communicate instead of ghosting and standing someone up and making them wait and doubt and–
Jungwon finds he’s irrationally worked up about it on his behalf. He glances instead at the clock. There were only forty five minutes until the end of his shift and honestly, he had never had a good excuse to use his employee discount here. (Mostly because his wallet would be crying even with those prices.)
Jungwon sets down the dirty dishes and wipes his hands on a rag. “If you’d like, my shift ends at the top of the hour. I can eat with you. I’m not exactly jumping to write up the rest of my lab report.” At the stranger’s startled look, he backtracks. “Only if you’re comfortable though.”
When he finally chances eye contact, he’s nearly blinded by a toothy grin. “That would be great! If it’s not too much trouble.”
Jungwon’s heart swells. “I’m not exactly busy, am I,” he laughs.
The stranger’s eyes take on a more serious light. “Have you seen a lot of failed first dates?”
Too many. Jungwon purses his lips. He’s sure he imagines the way the cute stranger’s eyes flick down to the gesture. He supposes the wince on his face supplies enough of an answer.
“But you don’t treat all failed first dates this nicely, do you?”
“No, just you.”
“Oh.” He shifts and Jungwon is suddenly more aware of their height difference, the way Jungwon needs to incline his head to meet his gaze. “Why me?”
“Because I think you’re sweet and handsome and I’d like to get to know you.” Jungwon feels his ears heat up at his honesty, the words tumbling out faster than his brain could catch them. He receives a small hint of relief when he sees the same color reflected on the young man’s cheeks.
“Me too,” he murmurs.
“I’ve actually never eaten here though,” Jungwon follows up quickly, breaking their gaze, his stomach helpfully committing to a few somersaults.
“That’s okay. I think there’s a fish cake place down the street.”
Jungwon’s chest unfurls a little as he nods. “I never did catch your name.”
“Riki.” He smiles and Jungwon thinks it’s more genuine like this, soft and warm.
“I’ll see you soon.”
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Notes:
And they have a very successful first date with many more after (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
Chapter 4: …because even when you don’t exist, I’m always in love with you.
Notes:
Bittersweet glimpse at a very different life but hope still prevails~ (No prior knowledge of Star Wars is needed)
[CW: Past character death]
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
IV.
There’s a holovid that Jungwon carries with him everywhere he goes, wrapped in protective casing and memories of a happier time.
It’s been with him at the center of inter-galactic politics, his ascension to Jedi Knight in the midst of the war of the millennium, on high-tail planet escapes, being robbed blind of what little currency he carried, with every crushing wave of light and dark in the Force, on lonely hyperspace journeys where he feels as adrift as the stars that pass by.
“Who is he?”
Jungwon nearly jumps out of his skin. Over his shoulder, Sunoo has materialized, his presence in the Force a bright confident beacon.
He simply blinks at Jungwon, all soft innocent smiles. His demeanor has certainly led to some fatal underestimation on anyone unfortunate enough to be opposing him, the Force flowing strong in his body and years and years of training and surviving on the fringes of planets and moons honed into lean muscle and a sharp mind.
There’s an understanding in his eyes though that tells Jungwon he already has an inkling because for all that Sunoo blazes with determination and expression, he’s perceptive when it comes to things like this whereas Jungwon stumbles through the mess of his emotions, drowning in the flood and unable to articulate it.
Add on the fact Sunoo guards what he loves with ferocity – since somewhere along the line, Jungwon had found himself falling into that category – he should have known this was a question a long time coming.
He doesn’t try to hide the holovid’s light any longer. “Was,” he says quietly. When Sunoo’s eyes widen, Jungwon gently corrects, “Who was he.”
Sunoo’s mouth forms a silent o. His shoulder is warm as he comes to stand beside him, a different light in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Jungwon.”
“It was years ago,” Jungwon sighs. The cracks in his heart are no longer bruised to the touch but he thinks there will always be a dull ache where Riki used to reside. “The last time I saw him was right before the fall of the Jedi Order.”
“Well, he could still be out there. I mean, there are so many planets we haven’t even explored, hundreds of star systems in uncharted territories.” Sunoo slows down, maybe finally realizing Jungwon’s lack of words isn’t due to a lack of hope. “It’s a big galaxy,” he finishes slowly.
Jungwon smiles at the holovid where he and Riki were still padawans, apprenticing under different masters who were good friends. The Force tugs gently at his heartstrings and Jungwon taps into a bit of its energy to shift the kyber crystals loose in between the holovid’s encasings. He’d gone back for them, taken the crystals out from Riki’s fallen lightsaber.
All that remained of Riki’s memory with the Jedi Order.
“He’s not.”
Realization and horror dawns on Sunoo’s features. “The war…”
“I felt it. Felt his presence fade and I,” Jungwon reminds himself to breathe, “I had to see for myself.”
Sunoo gestures for him to sit down on their makeshift bed, the only thing the hostel could provide on this wayward planet. Jungwon does. He closes the holovid’s encasings. In the palm of his hand, the kyber crystals are a light ghostly rose, the color having faded with its user’s lifeline.
He hasn’t told anyone about Riki since the fall of the Order and the rise of the Empire. There wasn’t much of a point counting all the losses in this war with seemingly no end in sight, only darkness and pain and shattered remnants of hope so few people are trying to gather together.
The holovid frames Jungwon and Riki upfront and center, trying (and failing) to make a toasted dessert they had loved on one of their shadowing missions when they should have probably been committing more grueling hours to training.
Back then, even with the decree and danger of attachments, Jungwon loved Riki more than anything else in the galaxy. Their story untangles in fragments from his chest.
Sunoo cradles each word gently in his arms.
Now, Jungwon carries the pieces of their story in his heart and he does his best to focus on the memories ensconced in both warmth and pain because Riki deserves to have a legacy beyond the life they shared. Jungwon entrusts Riki’s memory to Sunoo and hopes that one day soon, they would meet once more.
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Notes:
I've always wanted to dabble with Star Wars and the concept of the Force (and Chi, which is what the Force is inspired from) so this was an interesting chapter to write with the way the Force interacts with everything and with each individual. Then I made it sad, hopefully it was still enjoyable 😅
Better and happier lives await Jungwon and Niki, I promise!! We just have to struggle a bit to get there lol
Chapter 5: I remember most fondly those lifetimes where we get to grow up together…
Notes:
It's Valentine's Day (or as I like to call it, Single's Awareness Day 💕)
This update is a fun one with basically my favorite book series ever. For this story's sake, there's totally a Camp Half-Blood branch in Korea lol enjoy!!
[CW: PJO canon-typical violence, fighting monsters, blood and injury]
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
V.
Jungwon is nearly at his subway stop when the back of his neck prickles. The doors open and people squeeze out of the commute-heavy train and another hoard of elbows and knees find uncomfortable places to reside.
Something tells him he’s not making it to school today.
He scans the new faces diligently but there’s no obvious threat of a mythological creature hunting him down. Still, Jungwon’s hands drift towards the celestial bronze dagger against his belt, the weapon flickering between sharp metal and a chain looped with his student badge and keys, what most mortals would see.
The Mist is strong here if it’s able to warp reality even for a half-blood like him. Jungwon continues sneaking furtive glances at all the other passengers on the train as they start moving again.
There’s a man to his right with a hunched back carrying what looks like a heavy guitar case. It nearly brushes the train’s ceiling. His gaze is trained on a boy standing between them, maybe fourteen or fifteen years old.
“Nishimura Riki, son of Hermes.” The words are hissed. “What a treat to see you again.”
The boy, Riki, eyes the man. If icy dread wasn’t trickling down Jungwon’s spine, he might have laughed at the pure judgment in the boy’s dirty look. His response is composed but his knuckles are bloodless as he grips the strap of his backpack, “I don’t believe we’ve ever met.”
The man straightens and his shadow is bigger, looming, pushing against the mortal commuters who only glance at him in annoyance before returning to their phones. “You were younger then, too young to understand the fear and admiration I deserve.”
Jungwon barely has time to unsheathe his dagger before he’s forced to dive to the floor. Within seconds, in place of the man with a hunched back, a poisoned barb lashes around the area, attached to the body of the largest lion Jungwon has ever seen.
A manticore.
Around Jungwon and Riki, the other passengers have finally noticed something wrong, shouting and shoving each other to get to another train carriage. He wonders what they see.
The manticore’s scorpion tail whips up once again and Jungwon shouts, “Move!”
Poisoned spikes the length of Jungwon’s arm line a neat row of death where Riki had been standing a second prior. Jungwon discards his coat on the floor as he stands, holding the dagger before him as the manticore turns.
It sniffs at the air and a grotesque smile crosses its features. Heterochromatic eyes scan Jungwon’s frame and he’s never felt more like prey.
“A son of Athena,” it laughs and Jungwon clenches his jaw at the grating sound of rocks scraping at low frequency. “The Gods must be watching over me.”
It lunges. Jungwon sidesteps its claws by a fraction of an inch.
He grabs the metal pole by the subway doors and leaps over the now vacated subway seats, landing next to Riki.
The manticore roars in frustration and then physically claws through the handlebars running overhead, its scorpion tail poised. Jungwon pushes Riki behind him and frantically tries to think. He’s never fought a monster in such an enclosed space. Even together, they can’t hope to win a head-on fight and that’s before factoring in the poisonous spikes and the mortals still in its line of danger.
An announcement sounds overhead of the next approaching stop and the conductor slams on the brakes a little too abruptly. Jungwon grabs Riki’s hand as the manticore flails, crushing the glass doors to the carriage behind it, and they squish their way into the opposite carriage.
When the subway doors open, they run, Riki following in Jungwon’s footsteps. To his credit, he hasn’t panicked or questioned anything. Jungwon can only hope he can keep them both safe until they reach Seoul’s branch of Camp Half-Blood.
He ferries them both onto the first bus in Gangnam that will take them east and things are quiet for a good hour. At least, from a monster perspective. Jungwon tries to answer all the questions Riki asks and all the ones he holds in his eyes, remembering the first time he had needed to run as a demigod.
They transfer twice. Riki actually seems excited to see the camp and meet others like him. He learns that Riki had just moved to Korea to study music and had a background in dance, his passion clearly shining through. Jungwon shares his own love for music and they strategize how to finagle a producing setup in the cabins with Riki suggesting he could “borrow” some from a nearby store like a true son of Hermes.
It’s when they’re nearly at camp, the rolling rice fields just over the hill, that Jungwon hears the first explosion. He presses the button for the next stop as a nearby car swerves off the road, the truck behind it flipping straight over its hood as if something had bodily lifted it and thrown it towards the bus.
The two of them sprint up the hill, trying to outrun the ear-splitting sounds of metal crunching together on the road and the growls growing louder by the second.
Jungwon can see the iridescent shimmer of the camp’s magical boundary when Riki goes down with a gasp. A blackened spike is embedded in the ground between them, the tip painting the grass red.
He pulls to a stop, grabs Riki by his good arm and hauls him upwards, trying to ignore the warmth of Riki’s blood soaking onto his fingers. It’s a deep cut, enough to expose torn tissue and muscle and there’s already more blood than Jungwon is comfortable with.
They’re still too slow.
His hair whips forward with an unnatural breeze and then the manticore is in front of them, landing far too gracefully for a bloodthirsty monster.
Jungwon doesn’t think. He shoves Riki behind him, doing his best to shield the younger boy.
“Riki, when I give the signal, run towards that pine tree,” Jungwon emphasizes. “You’ll be safe there.”
“What about–”
“I’ll be fine.” Probably.
Jungwon draws his dagger. “Now!”
Riki takes off to the left and Jungwon throws his dagger at the manticore. It’s easily deflected but it buys Jungwon the precious few seconds to swoop down and snatch the spike embedded in the ground.
He’s glad he still has his backpack with him as he lifts it and runs to the right, the manticore following him and not Riki with a snarl. His homework is ripped to shreds as a set of spikes embed themselves into his backpack. One pierces his forearm and Jungwon’s vision momentarily phases out. He forces his legs forward, his calves burning with exertion.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the magical boundary ripple as Riki passes through. He’s safe.
Jungwon turns to throw his backpack, the sharp end of the spikes first. The manticore bats it away like a small nuisance, closing the distance no matter how quickly Jungwon races back towards the pine tree.
As the familiar whistling of spikes sail through the air, he throws his body to the side, ducking and rolling and slipping on the grass. It works though. The spikes that would have impaled him slam into the ground instead.
What he doesn’t expect is for a spike to fly over his head, going straight into the manticore’s left eye. Jungwon looks up, expecting one of the campers with a knack for archery and sees Riki instead. His left arm is already reaching down to help Jungwon up though his face is tight with pain, lips colorless. The right side of his shirt is drenched in vermillion.
Jungwon’s eyes catch a glint of light in the grass. His dagger. He makes sure they’re just within the magical boundaries before he steadies it in his right hand and faces the manticore, throwing taunts at the half-blind monster cursing the heavens.
The manticore charges in a fit of blind fury and Jungwon shoves his dagger into the soft flesh between its mane and chest. It dissipates into a cloud of yellow dust and smoke, leaving behind a single spike as a trophy Jungwon leaves on the grass. Riki is safe and that’s all that matters.
Heeseung, one of the few campers who stayed year-round, finds them soon after and ushers them to the infirmary. He’s the one who reports to the camp’s counselors of their arrival and Jungwon is secretly grateful as he watches Riki rest, the color slowly returning to his face.
At the end of the week when they’ve both healed enough to be given clearance to leave the camp and Heeseung has packed their bags with celestial bronze arsenal and ambrosia, they return to the city together.
Jungwon pretends he doesn’t already know Riki when their international studies teacher introduces him to their class and he maybe cheers a little too loudly when Riki is assigned to be his new roommate at the boarding school with a few pulled strings.
And when the school year comes to an end, the two of them pack their bags and head to Camp Half-Blood together.
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Notes:
Jungwon, especially in leader mode, just gives me son of Athena vibes cause he's so responsible and clever and strategic, I couldn't not. Niki being a son of Hermes was a bit harder to decide but like he's athletic and mischievous and has lots of different talents so I thought why not haha
Work and taxes have me by the throat ugh but I'll continue to update regularly. In the meantime, take care!
Chapter 6: …when you share your secrets and sorrows and hiding places with me.
Notes:
It's not spooky season but re-bingeing Enhypen's MVs and piecing together their universe brought this chapter to life lol
[CW: References to killing, attempted murder]
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
VI.
Jungwon cradles the name of his first human assignment close, wondering what kind of soul he will be protecting, what kind of greatness he would be guiding.
So he’s understandably confused when he descends into a graveyard.
Dense fog curls over the headstones, the starlight doing little to brighten the burial grounds. For a moment, though Namjoon has never lied nor fallen sway to ulterior motives, Jungwon doubts his archangel’s commands and wonders if this is a mistake.
Then he sees the kid. There’s a little boy by the cherub statue, barely the height of one of the headstones he’s hiding behind.
He peeks around the weathered stone with tiny fingers clutched close to his chest. Shivering and terrified and alone.
Jungwon glides forward, expanding his wings to cover the kid’s body from the worst of the howling wind. He follows the boy’s gaze. The distant orange spark means nothing to him at first but the kid whimpers, unknowingly drawing closer to Jungwon. A violent surge of protectiveness floods Jungwon’s entire being.
The tinkling of a voice carries on the wind, light with glee. The words are haunting.
“The prophecy cannot be fulfilled if the Nishimura line is dead and you’re the only survivor. You know how this ends, kid.”
From the orange ember comes shadows of terror and the rushing of fire, the promise of agony. Jungwon stands before the soul he’s vowed to protect, opening his palm to absorb the flames before plunging his fingers into the human’s heart, dark intentions writhing in his grasp. It’s over in a flash and Jungwon thanks the heavy fog for covering the fresh body.
He gently ushers Nishimura Riki, the last of his line, out of the graveyard and towards a family who will love him as their own and a kid with a big heart whose seventh birthday wish was to have a cute younger brother.
Jungwon watches over Nishimura Riki as he goes to school for the first time, a timid and sensitive kid who hasn’t quite picked up the language, as he sneaks into Jongseong’s room to curl up at the foot of the bed when the nightmares get particularly bad only for his older brother to tug him close and tight in his arms, as his foster parents endeavor to make all kinds of dishes until he finally eats more than a few bites, as he returns to the graveyard time and again where he talks to the little cherub statue when he’s sad.
Jungwon is there as he receives his first skateboard, as he struggles with pursuing the idol trainee lifestyle and what he really wants to do with the talents he has, as he grows taller than Jongseong, as he confides to the little cherub statue (and Jungwon) that he misses his older brother halfway across the world in college, as he walks down the aisle of his high school graduation, closing a chapter of his life and Jungwon’s guardianship.
The future is a blur of possibilities for Nishimura Riki and Jungwon wishes, not for the first time, that he could tell this precious soul how proud he is and how much of an honor it’s been.
Jungwon bids him farewell in the graveyard where they first met with the knowledge that one day, they would reunite once more.
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Notes:
Loosely inspired by the Tamed-Dashed Japanese MV and the Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman. There's something so precious about Jungwon being protective of his only dongsaeng, the FEELS 🥹
Chapter 7: I love how you play along with my bad ideas…
Notes:
Seeing as it's Enhypen, I couldn't NOT do a Vampire AU
All applicable warnings are in the tags but please let me know if it's unclear!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
VII.
Jungwon watches the clock tick anxiously closer to sunrise and finally turns the television off, the ambient noise of some serial he can’t recall the name of fading into the echoes of the highway a few blocks away.
Heeseung still hasn’t returned.
Jake and Sunoo are out acquiring blood bags and probably restocking on an unhealthy amount of mint ice cream because Jake can’t say no when it comes to Sunoo.
Jungwon pulls out his laptop and tries to organize some of the work files he’s accumulated, a mindless action that does little to stem the bubbling worry. As he’s shuffling his calendar, a news burst pops into view. He almost brushes it off as another trivial article like whatever celebrity scandals humans are cancelling each other on social media networks for these days until his eyes catch on blood.
All vehicles were being checked into and out of the city. On all major freeways and in certain suspected residential districts. They were “searching for violent suspects with an affinity for blood”.
What a nice phrase for vampire extermination.
The moment he shares the article in the group chat, Sunghoon’s door crashes into the wall and Jungwon winces. He always has the most explosive reactions to these kinds of legal and political proceedings. Before he can remind the older vampire of how much trouble a noise complaint could bring upon them, Sunghoon is disappearing down the hallway to drag Jay and Riki into the living room with Jungwon, their game consoles in tow.
“What’s so important that you had to interrupt while I was beating Riki?” Jay is yelling indignantly.
Sunghoon pinches his hip, eliciting another yelp. Now that he isn’t a blur of movement, Jungwon sees the lines of stress around his eyes, the barely contained restlessness. “They’re checking the borderlands. Isn’t that the supernatural outpost Heeseung hyung is at?”
Jungwon is already on his feet. “I knew we shouldn’t have let him leave alone.” The twist of guilt is an ache Jungwon welcomes over the dread clutching his throat. “He’s been gone for too long already.”
“We can’t use the car,” Sunghoon reminds them all. “Jake and Sunoo can’t get too close to the borderlands either.”
The lack of control slipping out of their hands ignites something dark in Jungwon. They’ve done nothing wrong and yet, they’re feared for the potential for danger.
“Hyung, wait,” Riki’s voice cuts through the static and the itch to do something one-tracking Jungwon’s mind. He hadn’t realized he was already wrenching the door open.
“We can’t wait.”
Riki presses a hand on Jungwon’s forearm. His eyes are alight with an interesting combination of determination and mischief. “I have an idea.”
And that’s how Jungwon finds himself dressed in street wear he definitely isn’t cool enough for, facing down what looks like an antiques store hiding behind swinging doors resembling old western saloons. They had taken the first subways of the early morning hours, the ride stifling and far too long.
Jake has the van already waiting at the rendezvous point somewhere off the main roads but not too far from the borderlands. He and Sunoo have set off a vampire sighting in the neighborhood over, calling off half the police force there.
The antiques store looks abandoned though Jay has reported unfamiliar scents, having been to this outpost before.
The seven of them walk the line connecting two worlds. There’s little to fear. Yet Jungwon finds he’s hesitant to march through the lobby. There’s something sinister leeching the air. He’s never liked supernatural outposts for a reason – the information they have may be helpful but Jungwon has never been comfortable with the looser and often non-existent morals.
Riki taps his hand and Jungwon nods.
They stick to the shadows as they drink in the eerie ambient atmosphere of the lobby. Too quiet and too empty. Like the moment before a lightning strike where there’s both peace and trepidation in the air.
Jungwon finds a secret entrance, probably one of many, within moments. Riki takes a breath before pushing the bookshelf back.
Their figures blur as they slip around the bookshelf to a corner of the room. Surprisingly, they’re unscathed. Jungwon remains wary. There’s no way their entrance was unseen. As he presses against a wardrobe, he senses movement in the room that’s definitely not Riki.
When the array of figures step into the light, it takes all of Jungwon’s restraint not to charge forward and rip every masked face to shreds. Riki shifts at his side and Jungwon catches the hitch in his breathing as Heeseung comes into view.
He’s clutching weakly at his side with both hands, blood oozing between his fingers, his features a sickening gray. He can barely lift his head and there’s only horror when he catches their gazes, mouthing the word run over and over. There are other wounds along his body but it’s the bowie knife hissing smoke and drawing a haunting curve along his throat that has swirls of rage and panic surging through Jungwon’s heart.
Heeseung isn’t healing. Jungwon has to wonder how ancient the knife must be or how much the wielder hated their very existence to soak it with so much poison and holy water to burn vampire flesh. How did they get close enough to attack in the first place?
Footsteps behind them, the new presences resonating with hungry ambition. Ambush.
He re-evaluates whether the message they had received from this outpost had been a warning or a cry for help. Jungwon never should have let Heeseung go alone, should have tagged along even after Heeseung stubbornly refused.
“This is the full coven?”
Jungwon neither answers nor acknowledges the hunter, gaze roving the room for a distraction, a way out of this with Heeseung alive. These hunters are good, strengthened by hatred and glory. But they’re still very much human.
The hunter takes Jungwon’s lack of response as an answer, lips pulling into a wicked smile. “Then this ends tonight.”
The bowie knife glints as it’s aimed fatally at Heeseung’s heart.
Then the room explodes in putrid smoke. It’s the opening they need. Jungwon yells when his hands close around the hunting blade, burning with a pain so intense he’s nauseous and half-blind. He wrenches it to the side with all his might. Through the searing of his flesh, he vaguely senses Jay and Sunghoon rushing into the room, leaving a trail of unconscious hunters in their wake.
Riki is tearing through the hunters on Heeseung’s other side, a fast-moving haze of limbs amidst the smoke and candlelights.
Jungwon punches a guy in the chest and pulls himself into a spin, whirling to roundhouse kick the knife wielder in the jaw before anyone can move to threaten Heeseung again.
He feels the gunshot before he hears it, the bullet embedding itself somewhere between him and Riki. Jungwon doesn’t know where it came from. The fumes from the smoke bomb claw at his eyes, already suffocating in an oppressing way even though they don’t technically have functioning lungs.
Riki is by his side in an instant, hands pulling him down and anchoring him to the fight. They crouch around Heeseung whose eyes are closed and Jungwon tries not to think too hard about what that means.
Another onceover of the room has Jungwon’s gaze snagging on the rustic weapons section and the much larger selection of antique lamps nearby. Rows and rows lining the shelves with kerosene and wax and all kinds of flammable materials.
He leans into Riki so he can hear, pulling him so close he nearly slams their faces together. “Get the hyungs out of here! I have an idea.”
Riki blows a strand of hair out of his face, almost nonchalant if not for the way he wraps Heeseung gently in his arms. “Is it as bad as mine?”
“Worse,” Jungwon reassures with a merciless grin. “I’ll stoke the flames.”
One thing he appreciates about Riki in times of crisis, he knows exactly where Jungwon’s priorities are. Something smooth is pressed into Jungwon’s hand and then he and Heeseung are gone in a flash.
Jungwon stays crouched as he flicks the matchbox open and patiently watches the remaining hunters stumble towards him, guns and knives and silver chains in hand. He’ll make it quick.
When they’re an arms’ length away, more wary of him than a rabid animal, Jungwon flits to the polished blades and gilded swords, smashing through their displays and using the weapons to destroy the adjacent ones too. He dodges the knives thrown his way. The hunters aren’t so lucky.
Only one bullet finds its way into his arm. He barely feels it. The match ignites with a quick flick of his wrist, the fire roaring to consume the walls.
Jungwon walks from the burning outpost bleeding, wreathed in flame, but most importantly, towards his family.
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Notes:
I live for protective leaders and even though Jungwon is one of the maknaes, he definitely cares for his members to the ends of the earth. This chapter was totally inspired by the Dark Blood MV but also by the Future-Perfect Japanese MV like lowkey I need Enhypen to star in an action series or movie, they'd slay (probably literally too lmao)
Will be back with another update soon!
Chapter 8: …before you grow up and realize they’re bad ideas.
Notes:
Hope everyone is holding up alright amidst all the...insanity of current events. Keep hanging in there! Here's a new chapter to serve as a distraction from reality lol
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
VIII.
“Tell me everything you know about the Sommerset case.”
“I already did! There was an accident.”
Jungwon hums, eyes fixed upon the horizon for a moment longer. Then he turns with a deceptively soft smile, stepping closer, pressing his voice into a tone of flint. “How did they really die?”
Carefully, like he’s treading on silken sheets, the guy Jungwon has cornered checks their surroundings without turning his head. Perhaps Mr. Thompson has finally realized there’s nowhere to run, the only exit from the rooftop behind Jungwon or off the side of the building housing his corrupt legal services.
Mr. Thompson seems to make a mental choice, straightening to broaden his shoulders and look down his nose as if Jungwon isn’t the one in control of the situation. Despite having several inches and a hundred pounds on Jungwon, he was someone who was ready to cater to Jungwon’s whims mere moments ago. It’s not very intimidating.
(Jake would cite his cat-like eyes and irresistible charm igniting that kind of reaction. Jungwon simply cites his ability to read people and what motivates their actions.)
Avarice, in this case. Jungwon didn’t even need to name a price to be invited to the rooftop.
“Who are you? You’re undercover to flush me out, is that it?” Mr. Thompson leans forward. Jungwon doesn’t budge, merely tracking his movements with calculated ease. “Here, I can cut you a better deal.”
Jungwon lifts the untouched bottle of campari in his hand and makes sure it’s in plain sight. He revels in Mr. Thompson’s expression as the alcohol splashes onto his suit, the glass gone and dark liquid dripping from Jungwon’s fingers. “I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to do this.”
The guy snaps his gaze back to Jungwon somewhere around the vicinity of where his eyes would be beneath the hood. “I don’t know anything about her,” he pleads.
“Funny. I never specified Sommerset was a her ,” Jungwon drawls.
There’s an audible sound of the guy’s jaw clicking back together. Jungwon shifts his stance and flexes his hands, the fingerless gloves glinting with a promise. As he leans forward, the guy shoves his back against the balcony.
“It was a suicide,” Mr. Thompson stammers. “She was in a tough situation and she had a binding contract with my company. We went easy on her really, let her default twice.”
“And yet, the Botticelli painting she had inherited from her grandparents without knowing the true value of the art piece is hanging nice and pretty above your mantle.”
The man blanches. Any paler and Jungwon thinks he’ll be speaking with his ghost.
Jungwon raises an arm and Mr. Thompson throws his hands up but Jungwon doesn’t touch scum like him. There are better ways to tear their rich little undeserving lives to shreds.
Pain has a threshold. Fear, however, does not. And Jungwon has perfected a far more resourceful tactic to get people talking.
He curls his fingers around the balcony’s gilded edge, cool to the touch and far too elaborately designed. The material dissipates under his touch.
Between one blink of an eye and the next, Mr. Thompson disappears over the edge too. Jungwon crosses his arms, waiting, as the screams fade with the distance. It’s a tall building. Depending on what kind of mood Niki is in tonight, he might be falling for a while.
Jungwon counts barely a minute though before Niki is throwing a force field from a nearby building and blasting both the shell-shocked guy and himself over to the rooftop.
He blinks, trying not to rush to Niki’s side, questions burning on his tongue and worry clouding his chest. Niki doesn’t seem harmed though as he closes the distance between them. His hands are warm as he takes Jungwon by the arms and starts ushering him towards the other side of the rooftop.
They made an efficient team because Niki had the abilities and Jungwon had the information and neither of them were particularly patient. But it was trust that bridged their superpowers after Niki saved Jake’s life when Jungwon was a little preoccupied getting stabbed. He and Niki have spent the last year chasing down open cases the Feds had written off as lost causes.
So he trusts the urgency in which Niki wraps an arm around his waist and aims for the next building over, shooting an arm out to generate a force field for their landing.
“Whoever that guy is, I don’t think he’s just some kind of corporate loan shark. He has connections,” Niki says hurriedly. They’re running to the other side of the sloped building with Jungwon just a step ahead for Niki to keep an eye on them both. “And they came armed.”
“Are you okay?”
Niki nods and Jungwon reaches towards him this time. “I don’t know when we’ll be able to get this close again,” he growls in frustration. “He’s going to keep hurting people. Families. Kids.”
Jungwon stops him from creating another force field. “Not if he has no more clients. We have to destroy the financial connections he has and cripple the trust he’s built.”
“You think he has blackmail on them,” Niki contemplates.
“A guy like him with the work he does, he has to have some assurance they won’t turn around and rip him apart once they no longer need him,” Jungwon affirms. The more he thinks about it, the more he’s sure. “We just have to figure out where to look.”
“His office might be a good place to start.”
“It’s too obvious. He would be meeting with his clients there. Any blackmail he has must be stored far from his work and his residence.” Jungwon stares at the rooftops and the smog of the city skyline. “We have to track his location, see if there’s anything that deviates from his normal commute to narrow down the search.”
“We would have to visit him again,” Niki grimaces.
Jungwon takes a deep breath. “As us, no covers, no disguises. We’ll have to pretend to actually be clients who need his services.”
“That’s a terrible idea.” Niki turns so he has to angle his head down at Jungwon and smiles with crescent eyes. The situation already feels less daunting with Niki by his side, ready to back him up through every failure. Jungwon tries not to feel too warm.
“Let’s do it.”
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Notes:
If you've read any of my other works, you'd see that maybe I'm a little addicted to writing vigilantism 😂 but anyways, I'm all for Jungwon's duality, what a man
Chapter 9: (And in our times together I have many many bad ideas.)
Notes:
I've always wanted to do a rendition of the handcuff trope and somewhere along the line, I wanted to up the stakes too, so this lil snippet was born
[TW: Violence, Torture]
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
IX.
The taste of blood is thick and bitter on Jungwon’s tongue. It’s not a foreign sensation but it’s not one he’d like to get used to either.
Awareness comes back to him in fragments and with every passing second, he wishes he could drift back into the nether of emptiness and the fleeting disjointed jumble of his unconscious, even if it meant he may never open his eyes again. His head is killing him.
There’s a sliver of blinding light slashing through whatever is overhead that does little to stop the throbbing in his temples. Jungwon moves to shield his eyes only to find his arms restricted to his sides, frigid metal digging sharply into the bones of his wrists.
His attempt at movement is accompanied by a groan that is decidedly not his.
He doesn’t get the luxury of analyzing what that means as a bloody baton comes into view, shoving his chin up at an awkward and painful angle to stare into dead eyes.
The past hour comes flashing through Jungwon’s mind. He clenches his jaw, tensing. The floor beneath them shifts, jostling his already aching body. They’re moving but it does little to deter his interrogator from raising the baton.
He’s not quite successful at wrangling the noises of pain down his throat as the baton comes down against his side, gasping for breath after the third hit and cursing himself for not checking the side alleyway after the retrieval.
Jungwon vaguely registers hands tearing through his jacket, searching for whatever it is they believe they’re looking for. They’ll never find it. Which means either they beat it out of Jungwon or they go after Sunoo.
And Jungwon refuses to let the latter come to fruition for as long as he still has breath.
He hunches over as much as he can with his wrists chained. The handcuffs blur in the corners of his vision though he notices they’re not attached to the side of whatever uncomfortable chair they’ve shoved him into. Strange.
There are questions being asked but Jungwon can’t comprehend any of it over the rushing of blood in his ears keeping time with the too fast rhythm of his heart.
Something warm touches the back of his left hand, away from his interrogator’s view, and then warm fingers slide along his own, squeezing once before curling loosely around his knuckles. It takes Jungwon another moment to realize he’s handcuffed to someone else. The pads of their fingers are rough. Not Sunoo then. Somehow, that knowledge doesn’t make him feel any better.
“He doesn’t know anything, ya know.” A new voice, pleasantly deep, cuts through the buzzing in his mind, taunting their interrogator, “You’re going to have to hit me a lot harder for that baton to be worth any of the cheap booze you had to give up to buy it though.” From the sounds of it, the person he’s handcuffed to is a young man.
A young man with no survival instincts apparently.
“Boss says I only have to get the information,” a gruff voice replies. There’s an edge to it that sends dread clawing down Jungwon’s spine. “He never specified how.”
He feels the baton connect as his arms jerk backwards though the young man stays silent. The dull thump of the baton resounds again, jarring and scarily efficient. It goes on for nearly a minute and the young man makes no sound. At least, nothing audible over the creaking and groaning of the transport they’re in. Jungwon wonders if he’s unconscious or worse but when he squeezes his fingers, the young man presses back.
Jungwon licks his lips and makes up his mind before the young man gets himself killed.
“I’ll tell you!”
The beating stops and then feet appear before his eyes again. Jungwon keeps his head down and his body scrunched up. He mumbles, “My name is Jungwon.”
“What? Speak up,” their interrogator orders, slamming his baton against the metal of the container around them.
Jungwon hardens his voice. “We’re not dying here.” A warning and a promise.
Their interrogator grumbles, shuffling closer. Jungwon continues whispering, random comments on the shitty interior, pointless observations of the nonexistent weather, is this a train or a broken antique churner? He lets go of the young man’s hand and grips the sides of the chair. Their interrogator moves the last few inches, leaning down to hear Jungwon.
Bingo.
Jungwon slams his back against the chair, using the leverage to lift his legs and wrap it tightly around the man’s neck. He locks his ankles and squeezes with all the strength that he has. The young man’s fingers brush his own as they work to hold down their chairs.
When the man finally collapses, Jungwon nearly slides off the chair too. The young man behind him barely holds them up and talks through lifting their arms together and turning.
Jungwon takes in slim eyes and a sharp nose. There’s blood on his shirt and he stumbles as they stand. Jungwon still thinks he looks unfairly handsome and hopes the crimson stickiness painting the side of his own face isn’t too horrifying to look at.
They’re still handcuffed with Jungwon’s left wrist connected to the young man’s right and vice versa on the other side, standing nearly pressed together and face to face.
“Jungwon, right?” The young man confirms before things can get awkward. He’s favoring his right leg as Jungwon nods. “You can call me Riki.”
Jungwon smiles faintly. He looks around the metal compartment and casts one last glance at the unconscious man laying at their feet. “So Riki, have you ever jumped out of a moving train handcuffed before?”
Riki laughs. Maybe it’s the pain and the nerves but Jungwon finds the breathy sound resonating from the back of his throat soothing, finds he wants to hear it again. A boxy smile paints Riki’s face. “First time to try!”
They shove open the doors far enough for both of them to fit. Empty fields of rolling wildflower and grass nearly as tall as the train shine beneath a twilight horizon. Jungwon has no idea where they are but it’s kind of a beautiful view.
He thinks they’ll be okay as Riki laces their fingers once more.
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Notes:
Ah yes, our chaotic maknaes, they jumped into fields of wildflowers and grasses so they'll be fine but I do not recommend leaping out of trains
Chapter 10: When we meet as adults you’re always much more discerning. I don’t blame you.
Notes:
Wow has it already been 10 different lives??
This update is really just Jungwon and Niki being badass and cute together! But do want to caution there are darker undertones referenced in grief and loss and trauma
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
X.
“So, who did you lose? Your family? A lover? Your city perhaps? I can tell you’re not from around here.”
The voice is striking in the otherwise tense but quiet hallway. Jungwon glares at the man who had asked the question from the corner of his eyes. As if the anticipation for the grueling drift compatibility exam isn’t stressful enough already. And it’s not like there’s anyone left on this planet who hasn’t lost something to the Kaiju attacks. So few places remain intact, even fewer cities.
The man has frankly ugly curved scythes tattooed down his temples. His attention is fixed on a young man leaning against the wall, dark hair flopping down to cover his brows, a couple of strands resting on the sharpness of his cheekbones.
Scythe dude isn’t just being nosy, he’s actively trying to sabotage the young man’s chances.
Memories are dangerous while drifting, even in simulations. Traumatic memories, well, they’re much harder to control, near impossible to simply let go.
Jungwon should know. He still sees the ghost of his older sister, still catches remnants of familiar bodies as he was pulled from the rubble like it happened yesterday.
“Quiet one, aren’t you?”
The young man shifts uncomfortably and casts his eyes around the corridor. Their eyes meet briefly and Jungwon nods slightly. In understanding? In commiseration? He’s not entirely sure. His heart is suddenly pounding.
Thankfully, they’re called into the combat room before anything escalates. Jungwon sits through endless rounds of controlled combat to test fighting instincts and coordination and baseline judgment, impatiently waiting his turn, flexing his fingers to keep from tensing his body too much. He’s not sure if it’s better to go first or last.
“Nishimura and Franklin, step into the ring,” the announcer blares. Even though this base is located in Oceania, their surnames are their designations. It’s less personal that way. A little easier for the Jaegar commanders to cut their losses when there’s another Clark, another Li.
The tattooed man from before steps up and so does the dark-haired young man. Jungwon leans forward to get a better view of Nishimura. He grips his standard combat staff with practiced ease.
Round one lasts maybe a second.
Nishimura dodges a swipe at his head and sweeps Franklin’s legs from under him, his staff levelled at Franklin’s jugular in the blink of an eye.
Franklin scrambles to his feet with narrowed eyes but no matter how quickly he tries to corner Nishimura or use his strength to overpower him, Nishimura outmaneuvers him, stopping his staff a hair length away before it connects with Franklin’s body, then pulling back to his starting position.
Their drift compatibility is less than 30% by the time the bell chimes for the last round. Franklin doesn’t start off charging immediately, circling Nishimura instead with knitted brows, staying out of range.
After a long minute of deathly silence, Nishimura lashes out. Their staffs clash with a heavy thud. Franklin doesn’t pull back though, towering and shoving.
He reaches forward with one hand before Nishimura can react. Franklin smashes his forehead into his face and bodily picks the young man up like he weighs nothing, tossing him to the floor.
Jungwon glimpses Franklin pull his staff back and he’s charging between them before he realizes what he’s done. Franklin’s staff comes down hard, jarring Jungwon’s frame – he swears his teeth rattle – but he manages to block the strike on his knees.
The announcer orders all three of them to leave the ring, calling out their full designations in warning. There isn’t anywhere to go though. None of the other combatants are leaving to clear a path to the exit. This is the most exciting thing that’s happened at the Oceania base in the past two months.
Jungwon shoves Franklin’s staff off, spinning on one knee to create a bit of distance and coincidentally, settling next to Nishimura.
Blood drips from his nose, messily wiped away from his mouth but still soaking into his uniform collar. He looks like he wants to say something to Jungwon, his eyes imploring. This close, Jungwon can see the little beauty mark on his chin, the subtle way he’s clutching his hip where he must have landed badly.
Then, Nishimura moves and Jungwon is left breathless again.
The clash of combat staffs brings Jungwon’s focus to the center of the ring. Nishimura had surged to his feet to intercept Franklin. At this point, it was kind of unclear who Franklin was aiming for.
Nishimura grunts as Franklin kicks at his knee, using his larger form as leverage to bear down. Jungwon adjusts the grip on his staff and jabs at Franklin’s stomach. They part again.
There are hollers of encouragement, egging them on. Jungwon exchanges a glance with Nishimura, some sort of unspoken understanding passing between them as Nishimura guards his left. They were in this together. For better or for worse.
Jungwon lunges forward and sweeps his staff low. Franklin backtracks to avoid the move, his staff coming up to catch Jungwon’s chin.
He rolls to the side and Nishimura takes his place, parrying the staff.
Nishimura goes high, a slash to Franklin’s shoulders, another towards his temple. His movements are more sluggish but no less calculated.
Jungwon surges to Nishimura’s side when he stumbles back from a bruising punch to the ribs, wheezing.
The staff in Jungwon’s hands splinters as he clashes with Franklin again.
He feels vague horror but mostly anger. It was disgusting how some men would try to assert authority and power onto those they perceived as weaker.
Jungwon plants his left foot, turns his hips with all his strength, and kicks at the wrist Franklin is bringing back down for a crushing blow with his staff.
Something snaps.
Jungwon doesn’t pause even as he grimaces at the howl of pain. He follows through with the momentum, spinning through a routine he knows by heart. He moves, rotating with each step, before leaping into a roundhouse kick to Franklin’s head.
It stops the screaming. Or at least, the screams of pain. The cheering is a different story.
Jungwon heaves a breath and wonders what disciplinary actions await them all. He turns back to Nishimura and offers a hand, pulling him to his feet.
“You didn’t learn that here, did you,” Nishimura observes, a statement rather than a question.
“I trained in taekwondo growing up,” Jungwon admits. They’re still standing close but Jungwon finds he doesn’t mind. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
Nishimura shrugs though there’s a tinge to his cheeks. “I kind of had to learn to defend myself from other humans when my country was destroyed.”
Jungwon nods. “And now, here you are.” He gets a vague hum. People didn’t tend to voluntarily sign up for the Jaeger program if they were leaving someone behind. It was why Jungwon was here and probably why Nishimura was here too.
On the intercom, a tired voice calls for medical, continuing, “Riki Nishimura and Jungwon Yang, report to your supervisor immediately for disciplinary actions. Everyone else, clear out!”
Sighing, Jungwon looks at the other with a tired smile. “Do you reckon they’ll put us together on cleaning duty for the next month?”
Nishimura huffs and jumps out of the ring, leaning back down to help Jungwon up too.
He doesn’t know what Nishimura would have said because the intercom opens again with a different voice, one Jungwon has heard only a handful of times. “Riki Nishimura and Jungwon Yang, report to me as soon as possible. We want to simulate a neural drift.”
Jungwon blinks. “We didn’t even fight though.”
“Well, we sort of did,” Nishimura says distractedly. His features are slackened with surprise. He grasps Jungwon’s shoulders, angling them towards the monitors.
……………………………
[Drift Compatibility: 97%]
……………………………
Later, after Jungwon has wiped the blood from Nishimura’s face and forced him to rehydrate with some electrolytes, the two of them meet with the Jaegar commanders. Later, they merge their minds to interface with a Jaegar prototype and Jungwon is drowned by memories that aren’t his own yet resonating with an undercurrent of grief and pain that Jungwon knows all too well.
Later, Jungwon comes to know Nishimura as Riki, his drift partner and confidant but also his friend, someone he trusts with his safety, his life, and his heart and soul.
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Notes:
I do love me some solid fight sequences so this chapter ran away from me a little bit lol also wonki beating up an asshole together as a bonding experience, I'm living for it
Chapter 11: Yet, always…
Chapter Text
XI.
Riki stares blankly at the microwave.
Or, more accurately, he’s staring at what remains of the microwave he had bought way back in his freshman year that now resides with the two of them.
Jungwon yelps when the microwave light spits out an aggressive crackle, fizzling to death among the rest of the soot. Riki still isn’t looking at him and Jungwon can’t read him. He doesn’t know if he should be begging for forgiveness, heading down the hall to put in a request for a new roommate on Riki’s behalf, or moving out of the country to save himself the embarrassment.
Jay did say Seattle is nice this time of year.
“What did you put in here?” Riki finally asks, bending down to examine the chemically melted remains of Jungwon’s probably-not-safe-to-eat four-day old leftovers. They’re definitely not edible now.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs helplessly. “I swear I had taken the spoon out.”
Riki shifts their mini fridge forward to reveal the outlet and kneels to unplug the microwave from the wall. Jungwon bites his lips, realizing he should have done that the moment the first mini explosion sounded through his headphones. He shouldn’t have been wearing headphones. “It looks like a lot more than just a spoon.”
“I might have added some sugar.” Jungwon sighs in defeat. He’s just grateful the fire alarm hadn’t gone off in their dorms and that they had an outside-facing window. The air still smells bitter with ozone and singed plastics. “I’ll pay you back and um, I’ll buy us a new one too. Same-day shipping and delivery.”
When he looks over at the younger, Riki is shaking. Before Jungwon can have a full anxious meltdown, he hears Riki’s undeniable laughter, all squeaky breaths and toothy grins.
Jungwon freezes as Riki meets his eyes. He definitely doesn’t look pissed even though Jungwon just ruined one of their only means of survival during dead week. His laughter sounds a little helpless.
“When you texted,” Riki wheezes, “I assumed it was the neighbors smoking again or someone staking their claim on the lounge by burning their food to a crisp.”
He turns back to the microwave and Jungwon’s shoulders slump. “I’m sorry. Didn’t I also interrupt your chemistry lab?”
“It’s all good.” Riki smiles smugly and pats the top of the microwave, shaking some blackened undefinable crumbs to the floor. “The TA excused me immediately. Since I was one of the five people who bothered showing up before finals, she said I’ll get full participation for labs.”
“She let you go just like that?”
“Well, I showed her your texts.” Riki barks out another laugh as Jungwon groans. His cheeks are flaming.
[To Mandu]
Riki pls help, the room’s on fireeeee
I don’t know what to do
there’s smoke everywhere 😫😫😫
“I’d say it’s considered extenuating circumstances,” Riki agrees full-heartedly. “Thanks for getting me out of lab. You don’t need to pay me back.”
“Anytime,” Jungwon says dryly. “I’ll order a new microwave as soon as I’m done with this stupid composition paper.”
“So now I can microwave all the strawberries I want, right?”
Jungwon snatches a plushie from Riki’s bed and aims it at his head.
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Notes:
OMG they were roommates! Ah the college dorm life where you live off of instant meals and 2 hours of sleep at the end of every term, we love it
After finding that one clip of Niki insisting on microwaving strawberries and all of his hyungs being absolutely horrified, I'm kinda intrigued but not intrigued enough to try or face my roommate's judgment lmao
Chapter 12: …you forgive me.
Chapter Text
XII.
The first tears fall the moment the front door slams behind him. It only makes Jungwon feel more frustrated and worthless. He’s exhausted from always playing nice to his asshole manager who has yet again passed Jungwon off a promotion, taking credit for his work and bulldozing him throughout the design meeting by explaining Jungwon’s ideas in business jargon.
And usually, Jungwon would just roll with the punches, sticking it out for a little longer to reach the three years to pad his resume.
Usually though, his lunch wouldn’t have spilled from its containers and destroyed his only formal messenger bag. Usually, he wouldn’t have needed to sit in bumper-to-bumper traffic as emergency services cleared away a pile-up on the highway. Usually, he wouldn’t have received a message from his ex saying they missed him even though it’s been well over a year since they last spoke. Usually, the rent portal wouldn’t have glitched and failed to process his portion of the payment, causing him to need to pay the landlord in-person with interest on an empty stomach.
Jungwon is tired to the bone. He wants to curl up in bed and sob his heart out until the day is finally over.
It’s a struggle and a half to kick off his shoes and trudge into the living room. Riki seems to be making something in the kitchen, the ventilation fan rattling on and the sound of cutlery filtering through.
“Jungwon? Did you forget to take out the bins this morning?” Riki calls, his arm peeking around the corner to point towards the front door before disappearing back into the kitchen. “They’re still full.”
He states it without any accusation but Jungwon feels guilty nevertheless.
How could he forget such a small chore? Now they would have to wait two weeks with the holidays coming up.
He’s not sure how long he stands there in the dark, vision blurred and thoughts whirling. The breaths he takes aren’t deep enough to combat the aching in his chest. Riki deserves a better partner than Jungwon who can’t even stand up for himself in a professional setting, who doesn’t pick up the slack around the house, who doesn’t have his finances or his life together and cries about dumb things like spilled lunches.
“Jungwon-ah?”
He jumps, dropping his messenger bag that still smells like spicy tofu stew. Riki’s face is twisted in concern and Jungwon’s heart squeezes all the more.
It’s too late to wipe the tear tracks down his face and he’s sure if he tries to speak, he won’t make any sense. He’s being such a burden that Riki is upset now too.
Only, Riki simply holds out his arms, not pressing him to speak or initiating an approach.
He makes it Jungwon’s choice. He always does. Jungwon realizes it’s something he’s picked up on, the both of them still stumbling to express themselves when things get too much.
Jungwon falls into his warmth and Riki is easy and familiar and solid beneath his fingers. Somehow, it opens the floodgates all the more.
Riki winds his arms securely around his back, rubbing his cheek against Jungwon’s hair and whispering it’s okay, you’re okay, I’ve got you , his presence an anchor amidst the chaos of the day and Jungwon sobs harder.
At some point, he garbles out, “I don’t deserve you.”
The words lead Riki to pull back and duck his head just enough to meet his downcast gaze, his fingers coming to brush the wetness from beneath Jungwon’s eyes, so achingly tender. Like Jungwon is something precious. It doesn’t help with stopping the tears though his heart twists in a far less painful way.
“Let me be the judge of that.”
“I feel like I’m dragging you down and one day, you won’t be able to forgive me anymore.” His heartbeat thumps wildly in his throat.
“There’s nothing to forgive, you idiot,” Riki whispers vehemently. He presses a kiss onto Jungwon’s forehead and the gentleness flickers as butterflies in his stomach. “You’re so harsh on yourself. I wish you could see what I see, how amazing and driven you are, how much you love and care even when you have doubts and fears.”
In the darkness of the living room, the words wreath their bodies. Riki’s grip tightens just a little.
Jungwon sniffles wetly and he’s pretty sure he’s made a mess of Riki’s sweatshirt. “You’re amazing too,” he says weakly.
Riki chuckles and rubs Jungwon’s back. Eventually, he coaxes Jungwon into the kitchen to eat a little and Jungwon asks about his day. Just hearing Riki’s voice, bathing in his presence, it’s enough.
Jungwon settles into bed still feeling far too brittle but Riki curls up close.
There’s so much good in his life and Jungwon grasps at the reminder that he isn’t facing the world alone, that he has these whispered words and shared breaths and so much love in their hearts.
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Notes:
I may have projected a little LOL
Sometimes the world really makes you want to give up, sometimes all you see is darkness painting the path before you but you're here enduring aren't you? That has to count for something. And know that you're never alone <3
Chapter 13: As if you understand what’s going on, and you’re making up for…
Notes:
Life is so chaotic rn every day is a surprise, hope everyone is hanging in there alright!
Enjoy this lil update <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
XIII.
Snowdrifts pile high around them. A trail of blood dots the fresh snow, the alarming carmine shade quickly covered by an unforgiving lack of color.
The usual beauty of the mountains covered in sparkling white and the pure untouched blanket of snow is nowhere in sight. Every step is imposing as Jungwon struggles to tread forward in the sludge of frost and ice and the worst of mother nature.
Heeseung’s arms tighten around his shoulders, heaving breaths mingling with the howling of the blizzard. He’s shaking uncontrollably whereas Jungwon’s racking tremors have died down.
In some distant haze, he figures that’s probably not a good sign.
“Jungwon! S-stay awake.” Heeseung is yelling right by his ear though his voice is still snatched away by the force of the raging storm around them. “I think I see light!”
His hands press against Jungwon’s side, urgent and desperate and almost like a plea. Jungwon glances down and finds Heeseung’s fingers painted with dark blood. Weirdly, it doesn’t hurt.
In fact, nothing really hurts at all.
Jungwon wants to close his eyes, to curl up in the snowbanks underneath the conifers, to tell Heeseung that they can take a break, there’s no rush, it’s really not that bad, that he’s okay.
He tries to find the words between one blink and the next, aimlessly forcing his legs into movement, leaning towards Heeseung so he can hear. But nothing comes out. Jungwon’s head lolls against the well-worn edge of Heeseung’s coat and when the older turns his head, all Jungwon glimpses is a blur of worried features and the milky white of the air, the bleached color of the skies.
He’s slipping.
The world disappears and Jungwon floats in a limbo of disorienting swirls. Light and dark.
In the midst of the monochrome, a golden light spills from the corners of creeping unconsciousness. It fills Jungwon’s vision in glowing increments, the amber warm and inviting as it peeks out from the edges of the bleak landscape, piercing through the darkness and hopelessness around them.
Unlike the whispers or the darker rumors, the cottage looks inviting. Jungwon doesn’t sense any malintentions.
They collapse against the steps leading up to the doorframe and the snow threatens to bury the two of them immediately. Heeseung pulls him closer until Jungwon’s head rests against his chest and Jungwon feels something warm drip onto his cheeks.
Oblivion tugs away what little fight remains in his body.
(Afterwards, when he tries to piece the memories together, they don’t quite mesh. He remembers the door opening and the cuts of a silhouette. He remembers a simmering fireplace and the soothing smell of fresh cut herbs and hot stew.)
When he wakes, there are bandages around his torso and he’s weighed down by blankets. Heeseung is asleep in the little space between the lounge chair and the fireplace. His fingers are curled firmly around Jungwon’s wrist, the remnants of melting snow running from his hair, faint traces of tear tracks running from puffy eyes.
There’s someone else too, mixing herbs in the tiniest pot Jungwon has ever seen, one hand hovering over the ingredients. Slender fingers work swiftly and the herbs mix with a light ethereal glow. It’s the color of the lake Heeseung and Jungwon would go swimming in as kids on hot summer days, a refreshing crystal teal.
Somehow, Jungwon remembers his name amidst everything else. The sorcerer in the woods, a healer, an infliction, a savior, a demon.
But to Heeseung and Jungwon, with Heeseung’s pleas echoing in the little cottage and the bustling and flurry of herbal concoctions and pins and needles flooding Jungwon’s body as warmth re-entered his frozen skin, he had soothed Heeseung’s hysteria and introduced himself as Nishimura.
Someone who was like them, a little bit different, a little bit strange, and cast out because of it.
As if sensing Jungwon’s thoughts, Nishimura turns. A smile rests gently on his lips. “It’s okay. You’re both safe here.” Softer, “You can rest now.”
His eyelids already feel heavy, his tongue moreso. Jungwon shapes his name as he slips into the nether of dreams, the shape of it heavy but sweet on his lips, like he’s been waiting his whole life to meet him.
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Notes:
Cottagecore vibes as a soothing balm~
Chapter 14: …all the lifetimes in which one of us doesn’t exist…
Notes:
Welcoming a (very rainy) spring with an update :D
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
XIV.
The night Jungwon finally runs, the skies are angry, roiling against the twilight and spilling over the land.
He can barely stand against the battering winds but there’s no turning back now. The miners won’t know he’s gone until morning and by then, he’ll be in the next town over. They’ll assume he’s dead. Just another malnourished body to be added to the countless fatalities of the fissure gases and endless grueling labor.
Jungwon doesn’t realize he’s taken a dip off the main road what with being so blinded by the downpour that he can barely see his own body, let alone the uneven path beneath his feet, until he stumbles over stone slabs. He sprawls unceremoniously onto an unforgiving floor.
Jungwon pulls himself together and limps up the remaining stone stairs to his temporary reprieve from the rain.
He glances around at the layers of dust he’s kicking up and the bird nests settled into the half-circle of stone pedestals where burn marks are faintly visible. The structure is laid out like a temple though it was clear no one had visited in a long time, the little shrine having fallen into disarray, forgotten in the folds of time and the shortness of human lives.
The thought makes Jungwon a little sad.
Seeing as this was his new sanctuary until sunrise, Jungwon drinks a bit of water before he grabs one of the sconces from the edge of the temple and lights it with one of his matches. He uses it to carve his path around the temple, dipping the fire into each sconce dry enough to catch.
By the time he’s done, the old temple glows a hearty orange. Only then does Jungwon finally see the statue in its true glory.
Unlike the rest of the temple, the statue appears untouched by the trickling sands of age, nearly gleaming in the firelight at the center of the shrine. Whoever sculpted the statue took great pains to add minute details to their patron god from the curl of his outstretched fingers in offering a hand to the kindness of his eyes to the chiseled layers of robes draped over his lithe form.
Scriptures are written at the foot of the statue, blurred and weathered by the elements. Jungwon manages to make out a couple of words. RIKI is one of them.
The only eyesore is the invasive tree branch growing from a corner of the shrine, the offshoots caging in the upper part of the statue, growing around Riki’s figure like a cage. It feels wrong.
He doesn’t understand why it feels so wrong.
Jungwon doesn’t know how long he stands there staring either. Breathless. Captivated. Sure, he’s surprised by how youthful and human the patron god looks but there’s something about him that is deeply and oddly familiar. He wonders who he protected and what happened to the people who worshipped him.
A momentary impulse finds Jungwon gripping the hunting knife from his bag and sawing at the branches he can reach, precariously sharing Riki’s pedestal.
The smaller branches are easy enough to cut through. Jungwon has trouble with the main offshoot. He stumbles straight into the statue, stepping on Riki’s toes, when he finally hacks the branch off and without thinking, apologizes. He only realizes his mistake a minute later. Thankfully, there’s no one around to hear it.
His next order of business is to clear off the offering tables and miniature pedestals where incense would have been burned and food would have been laid out. He finds a rusted bucket and a broom tucked beneath a fraying blanket, sneezing as a cloud of dust explodes at his attempts to extract both.
He’s still uncomfortably cold with his damp clothes and the only spare set he has sitting soaking wet in his bag. The process of cleaning and brushing stray leaves and twigs and remnants of animal homes used for hibernation in the winter is a welcome one, keeping his blood flowing.
When the beginnings of light filter in, the temple doesn’t look glamorous per say, but the cobwebs have been cleared off and most of the debris and general neglected aura has been swept away and into the storm.
For once, Jungwon feels good about his work. His muscles ache and his eyes are drooping yet, he finds he doesn’t mind.
He doesn’t remember falling asleep, blinking tired eyes up at a face he swears he had just seen in a dream. The shadows have changed outside the temple. Jungwon hurries to blow out the still burning sconces and prepares to head out into the drizzling afternoon.
Before he leaves, Jungwon kneels down before Riki’s statue, and voices a prayer and a vow.
The town he arrives in several nights later is a quaint one. There’s a tavern by the broken fountain with twinkling lanterns and easy conversation flowing from the windows. Jungwon speaks to the tavern’s bookkeeper who happily welcomes his help.
Days turn into weeks and Jungwon has a place to sleep and eat and somewhere to maybe call home and townsfolk who are all up in each other’s businesses but help one another out and travelers who carry news from afar and exotic trinkets in their hands.
Nevertheless, every season, Jungwon always makes the trek to Riki’s temple. The tavern’s bookkeeper lets him off with a wink and a few of the best fruits from their town’s latest harvest.
Jungwon, without fail, visits the temple to clean the first place he had ever felt safe. He sets fruits and incense from his bag on the offering tables and murmurs a quiet prayer, then dutifully sweeps and cleans and drinks in nature’s ambiance on the temple steps. He never quite deciphers the scriptures in the temple but he thinks it doesn’t really matter.
To Jungwon, Riki is solace and a purpose for something greater than himself.
He made a vow to live a good life and to always return. He never once regrets it.
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Notes:
A lil bittersweet and lots of deja vu but the whole forgotten god / goddesses trope is such an interesting one to explore and I do love mythology -- there's something to be said about hope and devotion here but I'll leave it up for interpretation
Chapter 15: …and the ones where we just, barely, never meet.
Notes:
It's been a wild week and I'm re-dealing with a quarter life crisis but here's a tiny chapter 😅
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
XV.
Jungwon curses Jay and Jake as he wanders the seemingly endless maze, rubbing absent-mindedly at his bruised elbow where he’d walked around the corner of one mirror only to slam roughly into the adjacent glass.
It was just some stupid dare and both Jay and Jake had gone in alone with Jay beating Jake’s record by half a minute.
With the amount Jake had whined about how it was so unfair Jay had his phone with him the whole time as if the device would have miraculously helped him navigate within the maze of mirrors when there’s hardly any signal at the fairgrounds anyways, Jungwon had handed his phone over with an eye roll, giving in to Jake’s competitiveness if only so the three of them would stop attracting stares.
But now, he kind of wishes he hadn’t.
It’s so dark in the maze Jungwon has already fallen twice. He thinks he spots where path lights and lanterns would have been if they were lit. Only shadows and the possibility of something other take up the spaces that greet him at every turn.
There’s a chill in the air that Jungwon doesn’t think is completely in his head, especially considering the sweltering August heat of the day only barely dying down as it nears sunset.
He sighs as he rounds another corner only to stare at his reflection, duplicated into infinite, stretching on in golds and blacks in both directions. Despite the lack of light, his eyes flicker with the cerulean blue of early morning.
His reflection blinks.
Jungwon sucks in a sharp breath. His reflection does not.
For a moment, Jungwon doesn’t see his own bleached hair or the luster of violet his jacket gives off under the black lights. Someone else stares back with eyes holding the depths of the oceans, slender fingers rising to brush against the silver of the glass.
He finds himself reaching for the mirror too, locked in some strange faraway world where recognition dances across the gaze of someone he never remembers meeting. The mirror echoes some familiar distant memory. Jungwon’s heart twists.
His fingers brush the glass. It’s not cold.
Jungwon can’t bring himself to look away, to turn to the side and see if his reflection is still behind him, to make sense of the situation. It feels important somehow that he’s not fully here. That the person on the other side isn’t fully there either. Wherever there is.
Then, as suddenly as his reflection had blinked, the mirror shatters, fragments spilling explosively outwards and away from Jungwon. Where those bewildering eyes had been, the fair’s gaudy lights shine through and reflect off Jay’s unsettled gaze and Jake’s startled face.
Jay’s features pull into a frown first. He basically manhandles Jungwon out of the mirror maze’s exit. Away from the broken glass, Jay turns over his palms and checks him for injuries.
Jungwon looks back at the maze as they lead him to a nearby bench after they’ve reported the incident and after Jay spent a solid ten minutes chewing out the employees for the lack of safety precautions. Jake’s arm curls around Jungwon’s shoulders, warm and steadying.
He grips his hyungs close but he still remembers the eyes that weren’t his own, the surprise and shock but complete lack of fear, only curiosity and a strange pull to be nearer, the itchy feeling that he’s missing something important.
He never quite forgets that night in the maze of mirrors, forever painted with clarity in the haze of his memories.
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Notes:
Did anyone else believe there was a whole realm behind your mirror when you were a little kid lol
Jayke being protective of the maknaes always gets me
Chapter 16: I hate those. I prefer the ones in which you kill me.
Notes:
I will preface this chapter by saying it's not a pretty one. Please heed the warnings!
[CW: Zombie Apocalypse, Gore and Violence, Character Death]
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
XVI.
He’s not sure when things go wrong, between the first barricade collapsing and the alarms blaring Warning: Perimeter Breach to the desperate dash to grab the few supplies they have to the adrenaline-fueled escape from the supposedly safe compound, the first wave of undead already feasting on those who weren’t so lucky.
Heeseung and Jay are shepherding several panicked families into the empty streets outside the facility they’re being forced to abandon. Jungwon grabs whatever he can fit into his pack, stuffing ammo, medical kits, water, anything that can be used as a weapon to line his coat pockets too.
Somewhere in the blur of screams and the squelching of body fluids, they have to double back and retreat, aiming for a different exit of the compound.
Riki brings up the rear, providing cover fire and killing the shit out of anything that lunges towards them with crazed eyes, their minds long lost to the virus.
An explosion crackles the air behind them, propelling Riki and Jungwon into the broken chain link fence to the outside world.
A detonated mine or a thrown grenade maybe. The compound was an old military base with plenty of weapon infrastructure that had never been disabled. Whatever it is, the flash of firelight lends them a bit of time as the zombies shriek at the sound. Up ahead, Heeseung darts into an abandoned building with his firearm drawn back. Jay guards his six.
Jungwon swears he and Riki are rushing towards them, their footfalls in stride.
Then Jungwon finds himself staring at concrete, his right knee throbbing with pain and his right arm thrown out before him to break his fall.
The growling reaches his ears.
Before Jungwon can properly turn to see the zombie pinning down his left side, trying to pull out the gun in his back pocket, a shot is fired, echoing in the alleyway. Riki drags him to his feet, his expression frenetic in a way Jungwon has never seen, not even when they were chased all the way to the compound months ago.
At the entrance, Jay is gesturing violently for them while Heeseung aims his gun where Jungwon had just been. Riki’s shot hadn’t been a kill shot.
He’s not sure why Riki would risk that. Out here, every shot needed to be a kill shot, undead or not. Jungwon still remembers Riki’s eyes when they had stumbled upon a faction of cannibals, how they had to kill their way out, bullet after bullet, thrown knives and glass shards.
They scan the building, level by level, before deciding that the rooftop was their safest bet. It was a complex built near enough to the other more industrial buildings that they could feasibly leap to another rooftop if needed.
(Jungwon hadn’t known yet that the biggest threat to their safety would be him.)
He empties his supplies with Heeseung’s so Jay can sort through what little they have. Jungwon patrols the edges of the rooftop, eyeing the metal bar they’ve twisted over the handle of the only entrance and exit.
His right knee makes weird popping noises that are frankly kind of painful as he walks and there’s a bloody scrape along his forearm but Jungwon is too restless to have his injuries treated, calculating if they can conduct a raid on the compound in the next few days if they stretch their supplies and the undead clear out enough, trying to regain control of a situation that was never in his command.
He does finally let Jay take his arm to run antiseptic wipes over it and allows the knee brace to be practically shoved onto him, knowing taking care of someone was Jay’s own way of a distraction from the violence and the killing.
From the desperation and hopelessness of survival, pretending their days weren’t numbered.
The first sign is the feverish skin. Jay comments with a frown, “You’re really warm. I don’t think the cut’s already infected though.”
“Might just be the inflammation. Jungwon was body-slammed,” Heeseung replies absently.
They haven’t had more than a moment of air after the perimeter breach and maybe it was staying at the compound for these last few months, making them all a little too complacent, delusional in the safety of metal gates and security wiring.
Jungwon only has a chance to check them over for injuries – checking for that fatal hope-shattering bite – after they’ve consolidated their supplies and Riki and Heeseung are cleaning out their guns.
(Or perhaps, looking back, he already knew, clinging desperately at the last dredges of denial and the need to be the brain for their survival.)
Heeseung, Jay and Riki are a little banged up but otherwise fine. It’s when Jungwon rolls up his own pants leg that he finds the curved indentations already turning purple and black against his calves.
There’s a moment of absolute stillness. Jungwon’s mind is pure static.
He pulls away first from their bubble of false calm, knowing there’s only one way this ends, having witnessed it too many times to pretend anyone could be immune. He shoves away and puts as much distance between himself and the others as he can.
Jungwon reluctantly meets their eyes, shaking. He feels what little willpower still remains in him crumple with what he sees.
Heeseung’s eyes are so terribly cloudy. Jay is near catatonic, his expression frozen still, only the wetness in his lashes showing anything at all. And Riki…he looks devastated . He’s never been easy to read but Jungwon has come to learn in their time together, what little he shows betrays how deeply he feels.
He knows Riki is blaming himself and that won’t do. No one is at fault here. It was simply the world they lived in, the reality of death at every corner, in every trickle of stolen time.
“Stop that. It’s not your fault,” Jungwon whispers, his voice cracking. He digs the gun from his back pocket and bends down to slide it over the concrete. “You know what to do.”
Riki shakes his head vehemently, he doesn’t even look at the gun. “Hyung.”
Jungwon holds out his arms frantically when Riki approaches. “No! What are you doing?”
“You’re the only reason I’m still alive. It isn’t fair.” Riki’s voice trembles.
“Let me protect you a bit longer then,” Jungwon pleads. Quieter, he says, “You have to let me go, Riki.”
He drops to his knees, snatching the gun in trembling hands. Riki follows him to the ground. When he presses the weapon into Riki’s fingers, the younger holds on tight. Jungwon tries to pull away and then gives up as a flash of fire overtakes his vision, his head pounding.
“You’re still you, the Yang Jungwon who knew exactly what to do in that cafe.” Riki smiles and the tears tracing his cheeks shine as diamonds in the faded lights. His fingers tighten around Jungwon’s, cold against the burning inferno inside his body, the parasite slinking through his bloodstream. “Until the moment that Jungwon is gone, I’ll make sure you’re not alone.”
Jungwon stares at Riki through his blurred vision – he’s no longer sure if it’s blood or tears or the cataracts starting to form. He sobs. Let’s himself come undone. Let’s himself imagine a sunrise where life is chaotic but not actively trying to kill them.
The last thing he hears before the darkness takes over is fragments of a song, the chorus being sung over and over by a voice he can no longer place though it holds comfort and safety and a promise of another chance.
“Remember when I told you
‘No matter where I go
I’ll never leave your side
You will never be alone’
Even when we go through changes
Even when we're old
Remember that I told you
I’ll find my way back home…”
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Notes:
A painful life 🥺🥺🥺
I was torn between doing a Hunger Games AU or a Zombie Apocalypse one. Either way, I definitely teared up writing this (◕︵◕)
The song is Way Back Home by Shaun, a beautiful piece on heartbreak and yearning
Chapter 17: But when all’s said and done, I’d rather surrender to you in other ways.
Chapter Text
XVII.
Jungwon’s first arrow sinks into the target with a dull thunk. It’s close to the center though not quite a bullseye. He was good at archery and swordplay but had a mind more intune with strategy and diplomacy.
Stepping back, he lets the Jade Prince take his first shot.
With the status and wealth of their comparatively smaller kingdoms weighed equally in the Phoenix King’s eyes, a hastily decreed shooting competition had been called. Whichever prince is crowned champion wins the Phoenix Princess’ hand in marriage and the Phoenix King’s favor and political power. Neither Jungwon nor the Jade Prince have ever met her, only familiar with her reputation as the Phoenix King’s only daughter.
In perfect form, the Jade Prince nocks an arrow. He raises the bow, pulling the string back, shoulders wider and more filled out than the last time Jungwon had seen him. The fletchings of the arrow brush against flawless skin and cheeks Jungwon used to squish between his fingers.
He lets out a breath Jungwon sees more than hears as Jungwon watches him sight the target across the courtyard from the arrow shaft, eyes sharp with focus and fire.
The arrow releases with a quiet swish. When Jungwon tears his gaze away from Jade Prince Nishimura Riki, he finds the prince’s arrow hadn’t landed in the bullseye. Unexpectedly, it’s splitting Jungwon’s arrow perfectly down the middle.
Interesting.
He’s heard all about the Jade Prince’s hunting prowess these past few years. His shot feels intentional.
Jungwon shoots nine more arrows with only one finding its way to the center.
By the end of the competition, only two arrows are embedded in the bullseye. The Jade Prince’s arrows have split each and every one of Jungwon’s own.
He knows now that’s no accident. If he could split all of Jungwon’s arrows, he was more than capable of handing Jungwon his ass in this competition.
As the judges and the representatives sent by the Phoenix King have heated discussions in their comfortable little pavilion away from the beating sun, Jungwon finally looks at the other prince.
“Why are you throwing the competition?” Jungwon presses, quiet enough that the bustling servants won’t catch their conversation.
Jade Prince Nishimura Riki glances at him and hesitates. Then, he bows his head and his voice is deeper, an almost husky quality, less the prepubescent boy and more the handsome young man wearing the mantle of a kingdom. “You look good, Dragon Prince.” His eyes flicker when he looks up, like he’s sharing a joke with Jungwon. “The competition was fair.”
“It’s not fair,” Jungwon murmurs quietly. “All of this.”
Something shutters in the Jade Prince’s eyes and Jungwon inhales sharply before the mask of indifference is back in place.
In that fraction of a second, Jungwon sees his childhood friend, the one he would look forward to reuniting with at annual balls and hunts, the one who snuck sweets from the kitchens because he knew Jungwon liked them, the one who Jungwon remembers hiding and manipulating a cruel half-brother to admit his abuse before the skirmishes along the borders took his life and left Nishimura Riki as the sole heir to the Jade kingdom.
Jungwon doesn’t know Nishimura Riki anymore, only the Jade Prince. The realization comes with a heavy heart. He had hoped they could maybe rekindle a friendship, foolishly wished for a stronger alliance between their kingdoms that was more than simple trade and some sharing of the coasts along their eastern borders.
Whatever threads had connected them before are frayed to the edges, brittle and threadbare.
Jade Prince Nishimura Riki wins the competition and while he accepts the tokens the Phoenix kingdom’s representatives bestow him with grace in preparation for the upcoming betrothal, Jungwon can’t help thinking the smile is stretched too thin on his face, grace and elegance in his posture betrayed by the lack of actual pleasure in his eyes.
The Dragon King and Queen applaud Jungwon for his determination and the close competition. Jungwon thinks they look relieved despite Jungwon’s loss. His sister pulls him closer than they would normally stand in their pavilion, invisible to the untrained eye.
When they give their formal congratulations to the Jade kingdom, Jungwon almost feels like they’re sending Jade Prince Nishimura Riki to a war with no hope of return.
Their eyes meet briefly. Jungwon nods his head and the Jade Prince stares back. He has a feeling they will never meet again.
His chest tightens and urgency fills his heart. Jungwon excuses himself quickly from his family and steps down from the pavilion.
He tugs off the golden ring he wears on his forefinger, the little dragon figurehead glistening rose and honey in the sunset rays. The Jade Prince stares at the jewelry in confusion until Jungwon takes his hand and curls his fingers over the ring. “To keep you safe.”
“Thank you.”
Jungwon doesn’t let go of his hands just yet. “It is said to hold stardust. The heart of celestials and all that we are. Sometimes, they say the stars listen to our wishes.”
The Jade Prince nods and clasps Jungwon’s hand in both of his, long fingers easily covering Jungwon’s.
The Dragon kingdom does not attend the union between the Phoenix Princess and the Jade Prince though the night it happens, Jungwon makes a wish. Not long after the news of the marriage has reached them, whispers of the Jade Prince’s disappearance echo in the streets. As always, the Phoenix Kingdom is sealed to the rest of their kingdoms and the speculations are left to run rampant.
Something tells Jungwon that Nishimura Riki made a wish too. A way out.
Because even in a world where their fates are dictated far before they were born, Jungwon still believes there are certain choices made by their hearts and souls that can change some of the details.
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Notes:
This was loosely inspired by the Enhypen's Carnival album's victorian prince photoshoot. Pretty sure Drunk-Dazed was the first Enhypen song I ever heard so definitely has a special place in my heart.
Chapter 18: Even though each time, I know I’ll see you again, I always wonder…
Notes:
Enhypen ate up that Coachella stage and left no crumbs, so proud of how far they've come 🥹🥹🥹
Been a sec since the last update but we are sooo back~
[CW: Implied Torture, References to Sexual Assault]
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
XVIII.
Fingers mess against the shackle around his neck, working nimbly over his ankles and wrists, distantly, there’s a voice, pitched in alarm. Jungwon slumps forward as the bonds loosen, feeling lean muscle stretched beneath soft cloth. A warm hand cradles the back of his neck.
Definitely a strange feeling after being compromised and the mission and everything else went to hell.
He thinks he blacks out for a bit. Jungwon stumbles into painful consciousness when he’s pulled to his feet and rounds a corner in a haze, definitely not carrying his own weight. With one hand planted firmly on the stony walls, he catches movement in his periphery.
He’s reaching for a weapon that’s long been disarmed, backing against the wall, baring his teeth at the person before him.
Youthful eyes stare back, a little haunted, a little wiser.
He’s been hurt before, arguably far worse than this, but he’s never hallucinated from the pain.
Niki is here. He shouldn’t be. Can’t be.
No one has ever come back for him. He’s only a node in the network, easily pruned for the health of the whole, too trivial for restoration without the information he had originally been assigned for. A part of Jungwon simply can’t compute what he’s seeing with a life of harsh experience.
“Did they touch you?” Niki’s voice is rough, almost harsh, but when Jungwon looks up again, they burn with something else. He looks away. Niki’s arms hold him upright, sturdy around his shoulders.
He doesn’t deserve that. Worry. Care. Like he’s still worth something beyond the blood he can spill.
He sighs, tries for flippancy, and only barely hides his grimace as the movement pulls at his side. The sharp burning ache has him wheezing for a good long moment.
“I’m covered in bruises and gun powder. What do you think?”
“That’s not what I asked.” Niki’s eyes burn into the side of his head. “They were part of a human trafficking ring for,” His tone is one of strained calm like he’s afraid of what Jungwon’s answer might be, “For pleasure. Sexual services.”
There is desperation and something darker in Niki’s eyes. A promise of blood on Jungwon’s behalf. Jungwon tries to imagine if he was in Niki’s shoes, if he’d been the one to find Niki strung up like a machine, half dead, barely recognizable. Did they touch you?
He sees red.
Jungwon grips Niki’s arm. His capture is a daze and he was definitely manhandled with unpleasant gratuitous groping but they needed him for information and had other – outlets – for their frustrations.
“No, they didn’t,” Jungwon murmurs. “Just some fractured ribs.”
Niki doesn’t smile back and the grin on Jungwon’s face and the rest of his bravado wilts away in the dark. Their fingers brush as Niki moves to wrap an arm around his waist to start moving again. He’s suddenly intimately aware of how little space there is in the tunnels. “Let me help, Jungwon,” Niki pleads, his tone quiet iron. “I know we’re not supposed to—”
Have attachments? Have people we care about? Jungwon swallows and derails that sentence into some corner of his mind, tells himself it’s not sentiment. “—But I hate seeing you like this. I feel so helpless.”
And maybe it’s the way Niki’s voice shakes with raw emotion, something he so rarely shows to the world, or perhaps it’s the fact that Jungwon is so relieved after spending nights in that cellar, an expendable operative after that job, craving for a familiar face, hoping someone would come for him regardless of the consequences of failure.
“Okay.” Jungwon tries to imagine Niki’s features before he chances a peek. He thinks he’s missed Niki’s smile the most. Even tinged with concern, it softens his eyes. “Okay.”
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Notes:
When Niki promised Jungwon "I'll risk my life to protect you", I swear my heart melted, our maknaes <3
Chapter 19: …is this the last time?
Notes:
I promise I didn't drop this story! We're in the last stretch and I'll do my best to update a lil more frequently🙏
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
XIX.
When the next volley of cannonballs smashes into their starboard side, something deep in the hull groans in warning. Jungwon feels the vibrations rattle his lungs as he’s thrown harshly across the deck and into the splintering balcony.
Near the helm, he can hear the captain shouting, their own cannons answering in thunderous cacophony.
Another wave slams into their ship where they’ve been unable to meet the increasingly violent seas head-on with the pirate ship on their tail. The deck shudders violently, lurching to a sickening diagonal.
Jungwon feels the salt-slicked deck slide out from beneath him. He’s weightless for a long breath, the last image of the ship filled with panic and not a single crew member left standing.
And then the dark oblivion of the seas closes over his head.
The cold shocks his limbs into movement. He can see the looming shadow of the ship passing by, far too fast for Jungwon to ever swim to catch up. His clothes drag him down. The icy waves are unforgiving. Jungwon’s eyes burn as he kicks with all his might, his lungs bursting, aiming to break the surface.
The night sky explodes in fiery colors before he catches a reprieve. Chunks of wood and fragments of leather and metal sail high into the air. Their ship is burning.
Whatever shockwave the explosion had created travels with less destruction through the water but as Jungwon stares with increasing horror, the pieces of the ship sail over his head, scattering around him for hundreds of feet. He can’t surface for breath here. There’s a very real possibility he’ll get ripped to shreds.
Jungwon changes course, diving sluggishly. The edges of his vision crawl with black. A big chunk of wood nearly the size of a raft floats overhead. His body screams for oxygen and Jungwon no longer has a choice.
He swims beneath the makeshift raft and shoves his palms against one edge. The wood should shelter him from the fragments still raining down. Jungwon pops his nose and mouth through the gap between the wood and the choppy waves. The air smells of smoke and death, clogging his lungs, but it’s air nevertheless and Jungwon inhales it greedily.
Until something else explodes.
The last thing Jungwon remembers is searing pain in his side, clawing desperately for something, anything, to hold onto and then a strange peace overcoming him, a sensation of floating…
…He’s moving. Fast. Jungwon can feel the wind whipping through his hair. That doesn’t make sense. Wasn’t he underwater? Struggling to breathe?
Jungwon squints his eyes open and nearly falls, a shout ripping from his throat.
The giant turtle he’s seemingly riding only shifts slightly in the currents to accommodate for his lack of balance. Somehow, that isn’t the craziest thing happening. Jungwon is still underwater but as his heart rate settles down from near cardiac arrest, he realizes he’s breathing, lungfuls of sweet air tinged with scents of kelp and brine and sunshine. Oh, and he’s completely dry.
He’s also not alone. A young man lounges beside him, watching him with barely concealed curiosity in dark irises.
“Who are you?”
“Your guide. Although, I was not expecting to meet you so early,” he says cryptically.
Jungwon should feel wary for his safety but instead, he’s intrigued. The turtle is following a pathway of light gleaming faintly before them and the young man feels safe in an inexplicable way.
He places a hand on the giant turtle beneath him, miniscule against the ancient markings along its shell, and peers over the edge.
They’re close enough to the ocean floor that light shouldn’t be possible and yet, a sprawling civilization bustles, dolphins and lanternfish and thousands of creatures Jungwon can’t name, never even knew existed. All around them, miniature glowing lights the shape of a tiny human silhouette illuminate this fantastical world.
He cups one. It’s adorable in his palms and pleasantly warm, almost pulsing. The light dances along his heart line and Jungwon sees glimpses of literature scrawled across stacks of parchment, headwear delineating high officials, calligraphy and ink and silk.
Jungwon releases the little light with a gasp.
The young man is already looking at him when he glances at him uncomprehendingly. “A lovely hard-working soul,” he explains, nodding towards the little light Jungwon had released, already lost in the sea of other creatures and what Jungwon now thinks are spirits. “She dismantled a lot of terrible laws. Her next life will hold much good fortune.”
“You mean, these are all people,” Jungwon interprets.
“Were. This is the in-between.” The young man brushes a hand through his hair and Jungwon swears a plethora of blues brush through the strands too. “It’s one version of the in-between,” he corrects. “You see the ocean because that is where your body still is.”
Still is. Well, Jungwon thinks this ocean is beautiful and magnificent, far more peaceful than the oceans he’s known in his life serving as a lowly crew member of the imperial fleet.
“Where are we going?”
The young man only smiles in lieu of an answer. It’s gentle and fond and bittersweet all in one.
For a wild moment, Jungwon sees something else superimposed on his body: a dragon with scales of iridescent sapphire and lighter shades of blue, dark eyes shining with power and eons of knowledge.
“It’s not your time, Yang Jungwon. One day, I will lead you there as your guide but that day is not now.”
Jungwon stares at him in wonder. The words are stated matter-of-factly but they’re comforting in a way he can’t quite place. “We’ll meet again?”
The young man continues smiling and the dragon tilts its head with amusement. He says nothing, merely reaching forward to press his hands over Jungwon’s eyes. The sensation is akin to a warm cloth settling over his face.
“You’re awake!”
A new voice presses through the stuffiness of his senses and Jungwon is unpleasantly aware of the ache in his side, feeling like a bruised apple.
He forces his eyes open all the way and finds himself staring at a beach from the awnings of a little hut, lying on his side and wrapped in blankets, the waves calm and barely cresting with white.
“You were lucky, you know?” The same voice floats in. Jungwon takes in a stranger with kind eyes who looks a bit like a puppy. His skin is a golden tan and Jungwon realizes belatedly that this is probably his home.
Jungwon’s throat only manages to scratch out his words in a croak. “What do you mean?”
“People don’t tend to survive getting impaled and drowning.” The stranger’s words are light but the undertone of worry bleeds into his features, the way he wrings his hands.
He’s handed a bowl of herbal something and Jungwon is too tired to question the contents or feel too embarrassed about needing the stranger to basically man-handle him upright. As he drinks the medicine, his thoughts turn to sea turtles and pathways of light.
“I’m Jaeyun, by the way.”
Jungwon shakes himself, mustering up what he hopes is a polite smile instead of a wince. The stranger moves to help him lay down. “I’m Jungwon,” he introduces, pausing only a moment in hesitation. “Are there giant sea turtles around here?”
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Notes:
*whispers conspiratorially* it's not the last time they meet LOL
Chapter 20: Is that really you?
Notes:
Happy Star Wars day! This update is not related to space or sci-fi at all though haha
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
XX.
Jungwon winces as Sunoo all but screams in his ear, crowing at his champion’s triple kill. His own champion lumbers forward towards where Sunoo and Heeseung are trying to take down one of the towers, attacking in full force while Jake defends against any extraneous combatants.
He loops up with Sunghoon, rushing to meet an enemy champion. They’re finally close enough to the enemy’s base that Jungwon can practically smell their victory.
Before they’re even engaged however, Jungwon’s character reels back, taking damage.
“Son of a gun!” Sunghoon yells to Jungwon’s right. It’s followed by aggressive mouse clicks and keyboard smashing.
Jungwon isn’t faring much better. The display name of the enemy player helpfully announces that rikijackson is on a killing spree.
It’s been a while since he’s touched League of Legends and he was never one of the best in their friend group but this rikijackson is on another level of crazed determination. Even with most of their team dead or respawning or otherwise occupied with Jungwon’s hyungs, rikijackson defends the last tower before their base with all they have until Sunghoon assists and leaves an opening for Jungwon’s champion to finally leap forward, delivering the final kill.
The five of them finally surge forward to take the enemy’s base. VICTORY flashes over the destroyed remains and Jungwon laughs a little wildly, his eyes burning and his neck stiff from the close game.
Sunoo cheers, dancing in his chair, while Jake leaps up to pump a fist into the air. Jungwon isn’t any quieter, rolling his gaming chair back and forth from Sunghoon all the way to Heeseung on the far left, empty ramen containers and sausage sticks littering the spaces between their gaming consoles, sharing punch-drunk smiles and happy sleep-deprived gazes.
They rarely have the time to game together now with the combination of classes and work and adulting responsibilities punching holes into their schedules until precious few hours overlap at all.
Jungwon is sure they’ll regret needing to wake up again in a few hours, back to reality, but for the moment, he savors this bubble of brightness in his life.
As Jungwon stands to stretch out the tension in his back, watching Sunghoon and Jake argue about their stats and who was the most valuable in the last round (Jungwon thinks Sunoo really carried them through but he’ll voice that to fuel the flames when the fire is a little higher), a notification pops up at the corner of his screen.
> rikijackson wants to be your friend!
Huh. Alright. Jungwon accepts the request without thinking before realizing he’s probably about to receive some strongly worded messages.
Instead, he receives:
> rikijackson: nice play
> bobawon: thanks!1!!
> i was totally expecting to be cussed out
> rikijackson: lol then why did you accept my friend request
> don’t tell me you have like a degradation kink or something
> bobawon: grosssss, i’ve been awak for almost 40 hours
> there are no brain ceells remaining
> i have assended into another realm
> rikijackson: ASSended
> and yet, you beat me
> bobawon: i had help, you pack one hell of a punch
rikijackson is typing…
It stays that way for a solid minute and Jungwon expects half a dissertation at this rate but instead he receives a short, almost shy question.
> rikijackson: Would you maybe want to play together again sometime?
The formal proper grammar is immediately followed by a series of frantic reassurances.
> rikijackson: no pressure tho
> you just seem cool
> yeah
And maybe Jungwon should be more careful about talking to random strangers online that he literally just brutally murdered in gameplay but Jungwon is curious and still giddy from their hard-won victory and the late hour. If this rikijackson displays even a hint of a red flag, Jungwon is sure he’ll catch on immediately.
(Though to be completely honest, he thinks they’re well-meaning. Jungwon finds himself a little endeared by the contrasting snarkiness and the bashful wish to connect.)
He turns to Sunoo to show him the messages knowing Heeseung and Sunghoon would probably pull out protective hyung mode and immediately block rikijackson from Jungwon’s profile forever when he receives another message.
> rikijackson: it’s okay if not! maybe i’ll see you in the championships one day
The message sounds like a goodbye and Jungwon feels something desperate possess him, some innate desire to connect with this gamer, to get to know who they are beyond the screen.
> bobawon: no way, i’m not that good
> but i would like to game together somtime!
> prepare to get your butt kicked
> rikijackson: bet
Jungwon mentally makes a note to invite rikijackson to their next gaming session. He doesn’t realize he’s smiling until Sunoo pokes his dimple and giggles at the way he flushes a darker shade of red.
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Notes:
Super cute and light-hearted, sorely needed rn this chapter was definitely inspired by the En o' Clock episodes in the PC cafe where Enhypen played League and were hella competitive over the gameplay
Have I ever played League of Legends? Nope
Did I watch Arcane though? Yes
Did I love Arcane? Abso-freaking-lutely
Did that help me in writing the gameplay? Not at all 😂
Chapter 21: And what if you're already perfectly happy...
Chapter Text
XXI.
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
“I’m sorry but a table for a party of four won’t be available for at least an hour.”
Jungwon glances up from his phone where he and Taehyun are squished in a corner waiting for Minjae and Jongseong. He catches the disappointed looks exchanged between several boys, still wearing school uniforms with some more rumpled than others. Their cheeks are round with youth in a way Jungwon’s haven’t been in a while, something his mother laments.
The waiters are still changing the grill and clearing the table for Jungwon’s group reservation. He peeks at the location around the waiting area.
From the looks of it, the grills and respective vents aren’t separated. Privacy between different parties is enforced by a little pulldown mesh screen between grills, allowing accomodation for parties of various sizes.
Well, Jungwon hadn’t bothered adjusting the original reservation for a party of six to four after Jake and Kai had informed them they were regrettably sick.
He eyes the group of boys migrating from the counter towards the entrance, locked in heated discussion for other barbeque haunts nearby without insane wait times. They’re still carrying their backpacks. Jungwon is fairly confident they’ve just come from hagwon. He definitely doesn’t miss senior year and college entrance exams.
He elbows Taehyun. “Would you be okay sharing our table with another party?”
Taehyun blinks at him sleepily and gives a thumbs up. Jungwon texts Minjae and Jongseong explaining they’ll have some company for dinner before approaching the group of boys.
A boy with slim eyes and the beginnings of sharp cheekbones notices him first.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Jungwon starts sheepishly and kicks himself internally for the uncertainty in his voice, “We have room at our table since some of our friends couldn’t make it. Just wanted to offer if you’re comfortable sharing since I know it’s pretty late.”
The boy stares at him for a solid five seconds, faint circles beneath his eyes showcasing the life of a student. His friends bob their heads in agreement though and the boy breaks into a beaming smile. “That would be great! We owe you, um…?”
“Jungwon. And you don’t owe me anything,” Jungwon laughs.
“Well still, if your car ever needs washing or you need some guys to help move your furniture,” the boy suggests with a smile, “Let us know!”
Jungwon learns their names in a flurry of introductions which is thankfully repeated twice over with Taehyun and then Minjae and Jongseung’s arrivals so that Jungwon, who had immediately forgotten everyone’s names except for Riki’s, the boy with eyes full of life who had spoken to him first, doesn’t have to peel an ear out to catch and relearn names over barbeque.
They end up pulling two extra chairs to the table. It’s definitely a snug fit for so many lanky limbs, especially whenever one of them is grilling meat, elbows and shoulders knocking together, but it’s surprisingly fun.
Jungwon finds himself sitting across from Riki, both of them squished between their respective friends. Riki is on the quieter side in a group setting, mostly focusing on the food in front of him at first, something Jungwon can definitely relate to as a fellow introvert.
By the third round of grilling though, he’s adding little comments to the group conversation which Jongseung is happily steering, making sure the lulls are few and far between. Jungwon admires him a little more for that.
Strands of Riki’s hair keeps falling into his eyes, especially when he leans over to eat the messier pieces of meat that his friend, Taki, takes scissors to. Jungwon wants to reach over and tuck them back into place.
(He sits on his free hand after that impulsive thought.)
The eight of them leave the restaurant in various stages of a food coma. Before they part ways, Riki thanks Jungwon with bright eyes and an enigmatic smile.
For a moment, it’s just the two of them in a little bubble under the streetlights, Jungwon waiting for Riki to say something more, his presence almost reluctant to back away.
He doesn’t. Riki’s friends call his name as their rideshare pulls up. The world filters back in with the sights and sounds and smells of traffic and pedestrians and the bustle of the city, the tiny thread of something shattering into the chaos. Jungwon waves farewell and turns toward his own friends.
(He misses the lingering gaze that rests on his retreating back, choosing the miniscule flap of a butterfly’s wing that realigns their paths without intersecting.)
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Notes:
Hellos and goodbyes, honestly that's one of the most painfully relatable aspects about living life haha thinking about the "what ifs" and the "what could have beens"
Chapter 22: …without me?
Notes:
We're getting another Enhypen comeback soon!! Wanted to update to celebrate the teaser concept release~
[CW: Kidnapping]
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
XXII.
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Sunghoon greets Jungwon Friday morning with a grim expression, “There’s been another disappearance.”
Jungwon thumbs open the file he’s handed, already queuing up access to the surveillance databases to key in the missing person’s name, his brain running mostly on caffeine and the too-bright lights of their rented office space.
A grainy picture greets him on the second document. He freezes.
Dark hair, sculpted features, strong brows, lean frame. Jungwon is certain if he looks hard enough, he’ll spot the little beauty mark too.
They haven’t seen each other in years with different academic interests and diverging career paths, the physical distance yawning between them first before the emotional distance settled over that chasm, the gaps between them colored in with new social circles and hobbies. It was a classic case of growing up and growing apart.
He never imagined the next time he would be thinking about Riki – or, he supposes, “Niki” as his file now indicated – would be on a police report.
Sunghoon must see something on his face because he knits his brows. “Are you okay?”
Jungwon turns back to the databases he’s pulled up and instead opens up a new browser, bringing up every social media platform he can think of, especially those he believes they’re still loosely connected on from when they were teenagers. “Where was he last seen?” Jungwon asks and pretends his voice isn’t as strained as it comes out to be.
For a short moment, Sunghoon only studies him, the weight of his gaze heavy. “Mapo-gu, late yesterday evening. His friends said he stepped out of the club for some air but never came back,” Sunghoon states carefully. He seats himself beside Jungwon’s desk and pulls out his phone.
“Why not go to the police?”
“They did.” Anger burns brightly in Sunghoon’s eyes, usually shuttered and composed. “The police brushed them off, said it’s common enough for youth to go out clubbing and wind up in some stranger’s bed.”
“But then he never returned this morning,” Jungwon concludes, a familiar frustration simmering in his gut too.
He scrolls through Niki’s instagram feed and finds he’s able to access his gallery.
According to his profile, he’s a choreographer and a dance instructor, his public account followed by a very devoted and loving community. With his follower count and even a few small brand collaborations, Jungwon is inclined to believe he’s solely an influencer if not for his clear dedication to the dance studio, his posts flooded with dance challenges and recordings and selfie shots at the studio.
It’s on Niki’s private feed which Jungwon is somehow still following that he finds the less polished images of his childhood friend, the years between them marked by pictures of high school graduation, galleries and reels of city life and socializing and travel, starting work at a dance academy, pivoting to a more open-minded dance studio where he seems to have established a great rapport with the management, his fellow instructors, and the community of new and experienced dancers.
A quick search of the dance academy shows signs of insolvency with the latest images of the building in a swan dive towards foreclosure. There are scathing reviews of the academy’s management and concerned parents flagging certain instructors for assault though the claims never made it to litigation.
Jungwon catches Niki’s name enough times in the reviews of the dance academy that suspicion begins forming in his mind. More than a handful of comments across various platforms praise Niki as the only reason they kept attending classes there, with more vicious ratings slamming the dance academy that they deserved to dissolve into bankruptcy among other more violent messages with a surprising and concerning amount of vehemence.
It confirms a theory Jungwon is working towards. He didn’t become a private investigator simply to untangle what the police don’t care about, after all. He’s grabbing his coat and keys before he registers Sunghoon blinking at him.
Oh, right. Jungwon forgets sometimes that he has a team now, his friends hopping ship from big corporate for “more meaningful and impactful work” or whatever it was Jay had first said.
“I know where to start.”
His suspicions gain more traction with how cagey the staff and the management currently at the dance academy become when Jungwon drops the pleasantries about exploring dance classes and ponders out loud if Niki will ever come back to teach.
Sunghoon, meanwhile, is poking around outside while Jay finds a secure connection to the surveillance cameras and the academy’s network for Jake to access.
Jungwon pretends to pat down his pockets as he continues the conversation before apologetically smiling at the manager before him. “I seem to have misplaced my phone. Could I borrow yours to sign up for the hip hop series?”
The manager perks up at that, as do the staff who drop all pretenses of eavesdropping. “We’d be happy to have you. With a face like that, you could quickly become a student instructor too and join our—”
Jungwon tunes him out, the desperation a shining red flag. He holds a wireless drive hidden in his sleeves, courtesy of Jake, to the phone to transfer what he needs. He does sign up as a member and returns the phone on the confirmation page just to be safe before quickly excusing himself.
He figures the manager won’t be too happy when he sees Gandalf popping up as a registered student when they check attendance.
The next hour is a waiting game as Jake accesses the manager’s browsing, call and text history, pulling searches on a couple of run-down locations in the Guro District and timestamps for inbound calls and deleted messages before and after when Niki’s friends said he vanished. Jungwon and Sunghoon search through the surveillance footage while Jay tries to triangulate all routes from the direction Niki was headed and his last known location before his phone either died or was taken from him.
They narrow it down to a neighborhood in Guro as the most likely location. Jay is already driving the four of them there when Jake intercepts an incoming call to the manager’s phone.
The outbound location is a church of all places.
Jungwon supposes on a mid-morning weekday, there isn’t much going on for anyone to be around and the cameras are easily spotted and avoided. It’s a great place to hold someone and threaten them into compliance. Perhaps not the most elegant way to get rid of a competitor but that dance academy was clearly desperate if they were looking to turn a potentially first-time student into an instructor based purely on looks.
He tries not to think about if they’re too late, shoving that poisonous line of thinking into the recesses of his mind. “We have to find him.”
Sunghoon nods beside him, putting a hand on the knee Jungwon didn’t even realize he’d been bouncing. “We will.” He glances at their surroundings before lowering his voice, Jay and Jake discussing the license plate, the footage running in tandem with their voices. “You’re emotionally invested. You need to keep a level head. We need you to,” Sunghoon reminds him.
Sighing, Jungwon nods. “I know, I know.”
The older hesitantly guesses, “This case is personal to you, isn’t it?”
Jungwon tries to school the fear from his face and whatever else is there. It is personal. Too personal. He always felt responsible for Niki, still remembers him as the little kid who would laugh too loud and care too much and cry so quietly. “I knew him when we were young.”
Sunghoon’s eyes widen.
They don’t say much as they pull up to the church. Jay lets them know the police have received an anonymous tip of a kidnapping but are still about ten minutes out. Jungwon doesn’t want this to become a hostage situation so when the others are distracted, he slips in through a side door.
It takes less than a minute to navigate the open layout before Jungwon finds Niki curled on his side, long limbs in a heap. His arms are twisted behind his back, zipties around his ankles and wrists and blood running down the side of his head.
Jungwon’s heart stutters and he rushes to check if Niki is breathing. He has two fingers on Niki’s pulse when he jerks awake, eyes wild and haunted before they focus on Jungwon’s face.
“You’re okay. Help is on the way,” Jungwon whispers.
Niki stares at him. There are bruises in the shape of fingers around his jaw and down his throat, crimson and purple marring his cheekbones. Jungwon clenches his free hand into a fist, his nails digging painful crescents into his palms, trying and failing to tamp down his anger. “You, how – Jungwon?”
“Yeah,” he breathes, his voice just as shaky. “Didn’t imagine a reunion quite like this.”
Niki curls closer to Jungwon like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his head nudging Jungwon’s hand where he’s cradling the nasty head wound. “They’re still around. You need to be careful.”
“Don’t worry about me. No one is hurting us as long as I’m here,” Jungwon promises.
“I thought I made that promise,” Niki sighs weakly, nostalgia wreathing his words.
Somewhere between the sirens in the distance and several men rushing in expecting to only find Niki, then Jay crashing in with the police and tugging the both of them out, an ambulance ride where Jungwon refuses to let go of Niki’s hand, the feeling mutual when Niki tries to drag Jungwon into the hospital room with him, Jungwon turns over Niki’s words.
Maybe their lives weren’t meant to run in parallel.
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Notes:
02's + Jungwon carrying all the braincells, we love to see it, because lowkey I feel like they would be scarily efficient if they wanted to be
Originally this chapter and the previous life were swapped but it felt too depressing and I couldn't bring myself to write pure sadness so I compromised with angst and a hopeful (?) ending lol
Chapter 23: Ah, but I don’t blame you; I’ll never burn as brilliantly as you. It’s only fair…
Chapter Text
XXIII.
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Jungwon smiles at the child as she watches him with wonder. She asks to touch the subtle blue of his hands after he finishes healing her kneecaps, still caked with dried blood and no doubt sore, but clearly not as important as her unwavering wish to inspect his healing magic with her own little fingers.
As one of the rare individuals blessed with magic, Jungwon had been swirled away to study and hone his skills in the capital since he was about her age. But his talents mostly lay with mending and soothing ailments and there were enough healers in the city.
There isn’t much magic left in their world, at least not the kind in the legends of old where floods could be diverged and the lands themselves were sentient to the press of a mage’s will. In this quiet town near the edges of the unknown realms where magic was only ever a fantasy, Jungwon’s skill was like a legend itself.
He just didn’t realize how close he was to those legends of old.
Not until his life is slipping away, blood seeping out of his body, his magic possessing the last remnants of his life force as the thread of his soul wanes.
To be fair, it’s not like Jungwon could have predicted the pack of wolves hungry enough to attack a human even after he’d shot enough sparks to leave some scathing burns on their fur. The air smells of singed flesh and starvation.
He’s barely on the outskirts of the village yet too far out to sprint back in one piece and besides, he’s not about to lead a pack of feral wolves towards the unsuspecting town. With one hand held protectively in front of him, Jungwon raises his other to the sky to shoot a blast of light, praying to the stars that his flare of distress might be seen and answered.
He dances around the teeth nipping at his sides, wincing when he’s not quite fast enough. The scent of blood seems to increase their aggression, starved gazes eyeing the crimson markings lining his legs and torso.
Shit goes sideways after that.
Emboldened by the lack of fatal incapacitation, the alpha wolf leaps. Jungwon makes the mistake of ducking.
Claws dig into his back, ripping hard enough for Jungwon’s clothes to be drenched immediately with blood and torn tissue, a gut-wrenching cry of agony tearing out of his throat. He tries to conjure another flame through the black dots threatening to overtake his vision only for his body to be pinned to the foliage, his arms trapped beneath his own dead weight.
Sharp pinpoints of pain mottle his forearms, dripping into the earth and Jungwon musters enough strength to kick out. The movement shoots pain through his spine and Jungwon curls into a gasping ball of bleeding skin and muscle.
I’m going to die.
Jungwon braces himself for his final moments, for the bite to his throat and through his arteries.
It never comes.
Afraid of what he’ll find, Jungwon forces his eyes open in tiny increments. He’s still in the forest, the ground beneath him slick with so much blood he has trouble computing that it’s all his own. There seems to be a soft golden hue surrounding his body but it could just be his soul departing to another realm.
That’s what he believes at least, ready to close his eyes again, possibly forever, when something warm cups his cheek.
Jungwon involuntarily leans into the touch and regrets it immediately, his back burning en masse and his body tingling with aftershocks of pain. Definitely not dead then. When his heartbeat is no longer pounding in tandem with his breaths, he hears rhythmic susurrations, the cadence almost lyrical.
He comes back in snippets, focusing on the warmth against his cheek and breathing through the waves of pain. Jungwon feels his magic stir weakly against his fingers, too depleted to weave together the shredded mess of his back. But Jungwon swears the pain isn’t as terrible and as all-consuming as it was merely a moment ago.
Turning his face, he’s greeted with the most ethereal sight he’s ever seen.
There’s someone kneeling by his side, spilling golden light from his figure and onto Jungwon. He realizes belatedly that he’s speaking, chanting, the language one Jungwon doesn’t know but one as ancient as the forest surrounding them and laced with power.
He has a lithe frame with features too handsome and too perfect on unblemished skin, his presence and voice otherworldly. Little strands of dark hair are braided to frame sharp ears – elven ears.
Jungwon didn’t think this night could get any crazier.
When the elf opens his eyes, he seems a little startled to find Jungwon already staring at him.
“This is a dangerous place for a human to be.”
Even his voice sounds harmonious and too flawless. Jungwon swallows and works his jaw, “Are you real?”
The elf smiles faintly, glancing at himself. “Last time I checked, I was walking through the forest when I saw magic. I did not realize there was still any in this part of the world. Then I found this strange human who is either bravely stupid or stupidly brave.”
Jungwon can’t help chuckling at that but grimaces immediately when it pulls at his back. “I’ve never heard of the elven race helping humans.”
“We used to live in harmony millennia ago although that was before my time,” the elf says gently, still pouring his magic into Jungwon. “You’re not the greedy monsters the stories say.”
“Well, history is written by survivors,” Jungwon points out. “And I wouldn’t say all humans and mages are angels either.”
Here, the elf shifts his hand to brush slender fingers over Jungwon’s sweaty forehead. “Your heart is kind and your magic is nurturing. Is that not what an angel is?”
Jungwon opens his mouth only to find himself struck speechless.
“You should not take this risk again. I may not be there to help and my brethren are not so forgiving of humans.”
Something twists in Jungwon’s chest. “Will we not meet again?”
The elf tilts his head and a bit of playfulness lights his eyes, shining with youth. “We’ll see.”
Jungwon wakes alone to the afternoon sun filtering through the forest and elvish written in berry ink delicately scripted on the palm of his hand. A secret and a promise. He copies the symbols down onto his journal the first chance he gets and digs through research tomes and archaic historics until he’s able to translate a name and location.
Jungwon smiles to himself. “We’ll see,” he whispers.
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Notes:
A lil Tolkien inspired snippet from that one scene in The Hobbit where Tauriel heals Kili
Niki is so effortlessly graceful even when he's just walking, I couldn't not write him as an elf haha
Chapter 24: …that I should be the one…
Chapter Text
XXIV.
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
“The mark is primed.”
Jungwon hides his smirk behind the glass of champagne in his hand. It’s probably the most expensive thing in this room. The shitty speakers blare the backing track to an up and coming solo artist on the stage, her outfit raunchy and makeup somewhat smeared, singing to sweaty drunken bodies moving out of beat to the rhythm of her music.
Her vocals aren’t bad and the lyrics aren’t terrible. Should any of the pieces on her album chart, she could gather a sizable fanbase and stop performing at dinghy venues. Too bad the label she’s signed for will take all her royalties if that happens.
Cue the reason the seven of them are here.
“Nice job, Sunoo hyung,” Jungwon murmurs.
He can practically hear Sunoo’s triumph bleed into his words, masked as enthusiasm where he’s forging a signature with the label’s management in a much nicer building next door. Mr. Yoon and his lackeys are none the wiser. “Pleasure is all mine! I look forward to our success,” he finishes.
“Thank you, Sunny.” Even through the earpiece, Jungwon can hear the faint leer, clenching his fists to keep his posture relaxed.
Little does Mr. Yoon know, Sunoo isn’t talking about the label nor the pieces Heeseung had demoed of Sunoo’s vocals with lyrics and music Heeseung had produced for fun in the past few years.
As Heeseung wraps up the conversation, Jungwon’s phone vibrates with new messages. They’re shots of the binding agreement between the artist and the label through Sunoo’s multi-functional (and very fake) glasses alongside a confirmation from Heeseung that the original copies of artist tracks are physical. For “security” purposes.
Now it’s just a matter of locating it.
Jungwon pulls up the grainy security footage of the outside of the venue through his own shades. Heeseung had written some code to feed them the real-time footage while security would see visuals with a few seconds delayed, all seven of their presences erased as soon as they appeared.
He’s not sure how Heeseung did it. He’s just glad Heeseung is on their side.
“Jake hyung, you and Sunghoon hyung are up.” Jungwon wades through a crowd of people and leans against the archaic pinball machine near the corridors to the back rooms.
Across the venue by the elevated bar, Jake grins as he sinks the 8 ball, patting the other guys on the back. Only because Jungwon knows what to look for does he see the edge of the encrypted biometrics slip from a jacket pocket into Jake’s hand.
Through his in-ear, Sunoo confirms he’s linked up with Heeseung and are wandering the dance studios and producing setups for Sunoo’s previously self-proclaimed tour of his new place of employment, their only eyes on the inside of the building. So far.
Jungwon dodges his way into the corridor and starts climbing the stairs to the fire escape. On the security footage between the office building and the venue, Jake brushes past Jay who was on standby in case anything went south.
A flick of their hands is all that’s seen before Jake exits the narrow alleyway to meet Sunghoon who has spent his time rigging every expensive car Mr. Yoon owns with tracers and bugs.
They walk leisurely by the front of the office building while Mr. Yoon rushes towards the entrance. As Jungwon reaches the top of the fire escape, movement from above draws his attention to Riki descending from the rooftop high above, his frame only a tiny figure somewhere around the twentieth floor, his attire decked out in dark colors and heist gear as he hangs by a singular harness.
Although the venue they’re at has minimal surveillance, the same can’t be said about the office building. The heuristic security algorithm is nearly impossible to hack with the time limit they had. Jungwon had calculated during preparation, somewhat reluctantly, that Riki would have to sneak in the old-fashioned way.
Sunghoon and Jake start conversing loudly, raving about Sunny’s success and his music. (“I heard he’s attending the Billboard Music Awards.” and “No way, with his popularity, he’ll be performing there in no time.”)
They’re still talking animatedly when Mr. Yoon and his minor entourage exit the building. From where he’s positioned, Jungwon sees Mr. Yoon tilt his head slightly before pulling out his phone.
Heeseung already has control of the device, helpfully listing some impressive statistics of Sunoo’s idol career, “Sunny”, where Mr. Yoon flicks through visual charts and streaming platforms and interview recaps of Sunny taking steps to become independent with his music.
Sunoo announces that they’re now on the seventeenth floor trying every vending machine they can find, Jake continues speaking as he and Sunghoon continue down the street, Riki is directed to retract his rope a couple of floors.
When Jake abruptly stops conversing with a visual through the front entrance of the office building, Jungwon tenses.
“The mark has directed several of his men to make copies of Sunny’s music now,” Sunghoon hisses down the line.
Jake follows immediately, “They’re heading back in.” A strained pause follows. Jungwon can hear the way they’re all collectively holding their breath. “Blossom elevators incoming. Southeast side.”
Heeseung acknowledges, changing the direction of his and Sunoo’s exploration.
This part is the trickiest.
It’s all about timing.
They don’t know where the music is tampered with, just that it is, so flawlessly no artist is able to bring a complete case with incriminating evidence for their original works and royalties. Since it isn’t digital, they can’t hack it. The only way to find it is for someone on the inside to lead them headfirst to the physical files.
As Jungwon clatters down the fire escape, jumping the last flight and signalling to Jay, he glances up at Riki’s silhouette, a miniscule smudge edging along the side of the building.
Meanwhile, Jay is already circling the building. The drone he’s prepped takes off into the air, zooming towards the transformer of the nearest power lines, power stocked with diet coke and mentos on its kamikaze run. Jungwon rushes towards the building’s backup generator.
“Elevator is moving up,” Sunoo pants. They had probably run half the length of the building in seconds. “Past the third floor now.”
“Riki, are you in position?”
There’s the light clatter of metal against metal as Riki adjusts his earpiece to answer Jungwon. “Yeah, hyung. Just waiting for the signal.”
It comes a fraction of a second later. Heeseung’s voice cuts through, “Tenth floor!”
Jungwon slams down on every power source showing an active setting in the transfer switch. A moment later, the sound of a mini bubbly explosion reaches his ears, Jay’s little drone finding its target face-first with the power line’s transformer. Through Riki’s earpiece, Jungwon can hear the shifting of glass as Riki cuts through and suctions off a corner of the window.
No alarms still. The heuristic security algorithm has already been notifying the label’s management of Sunoo and Heeseung’s unauthorized presence which Mr. Yoon and his team are semi-aware of and have ignored for more pressing matters (read: stealing and copyrighting music that isn’t theirs, extorting young artists of their profits, holding idols on tight leashes to hold concerts for financial profits while those same idols live in asbestos-ridden apartments). Ah, the pleasantries of the idol industry.
“I’m in,” Riki murmurs.
Though anxiety pools in his stomach, Jungwon reminds himself to continue with his task of sabotage. Heeseung and Sunoo are taking a different set of elevators to the ground floor to loop up with Sunghoon while Jake and Jay have eyes on the main exits should anything go wrong.
It means Riki is the only one remaining in the lion’s den with the guys who are rewriting Sunny’s discography. Riki shimmies out of the safety harness while simultaneously attaching a couple of rigged Sony cameras to his gear. He’ll present their screens to the surveillance cameras while exiting the office he’s currently occupying and through his search of the floor. The footage will only ever show the empty hallways around him through the lenses of the Sony cameras.
If they couldn’t hack it, they could at least use the limitations of technology to their advantage. It’s a good thing Riki is tall.
But just because Jungwon is the brain behind these ideas doesn’t stop him from holding his breath until Riki says, “Cams are in control. No alerts.”
Barely a minute later, Riki murmurs, “I’m on their tail.”
Heeseung updates that they’ve left the building’s vicinity. Things are still quiet. Jungwon eyes the swinging harness ten stories above.
Riki sucks in a breath and Jungwon feels his heart jump.
“What’s happening?” Sunoo demands, worry bleeding into his voice.
“They stepped into room 1009,” Riki says, the words barely a rustle down the line. “I’m in the adjacent room.”
It seems to take forever before the men step out, Riki updating them on his status every few minutes. Jungwon thinks it’s more for their sake than Riki’s own so they don’t charge in and tear the building apart.
This is always the worst part, the nail-biting worry and uncertainty. Riki can handle himself – he’s skilled and quick and has been in far worse situations before he even met the rest of them but maybe Jungwon is a bit overprotective.
“I found it, hyung,” Riki exclaims, slicing through the trainwreck of Jungwon’s worry and flurry of contingency plans. “Replacing them with our copies now.”
Jungwon breathes a sigh of relief. The tension in his shoulders will remain until Riki is out of the building and far enough from harm’s way.
For now though, he lets himself smile at another plan falling into place. “Then let’s go steal us a concert.”
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Notes:
I've always wanted to write a Leverage fusion / heist AU but this was also inspired by White Collar (esp the camera and security footage idea). The moment No Doubt dropped with Enhypen in business formal attire trashing a corporate setting in the dead of night, my brain was like hmmm that's interesting fuel
Lowkey this chapter was also a dig at the darksides of the entertainment industry haha
And in case you were curious, Enha's loose Leverage roles that I (vaguely) referenced:
-- Jungwon as the mastermind
-- Niki as a thief
-- Heeseung as a hacker
-- Sunoo as a grifter
-- Jake as a thief / grifter
-- Sunghoon as a hitter / thief
-- Jay as a hitter
Chapter 25: …to chase you across ten, twenty-five, a hundred lifetimes until I find the one where you’ll return to me.
Chapter Text
XXV.
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
Jungwon wonders sometimes if he made a mistake leaving SM for BigHit, if he sacrificed his childhood for a pipe dream that slips through his fingers like the sands of time, months of hard work and blood, sweat, and tears folding into years of balancing hopes and aspirations with the harsh reality of failures and missed opportunities.
There are whispers that the company is preparing for the next big thing but debuting still feels as substantial as the dying colors of another sunset.
He knows he’s hardly trained the longest and is hardly the most talented aspiring idol at BigHit. Jungwon can still see himself improving at lessons and with techniques he’s incorporated into his training. He’s still only a teenager and as many closed doors as there are, he’s seen other trainees come and go, walking diverging paths, unmoored from the entertainment industry to find a place and a people and a home to settle their hearts.
Maybe he just doesn’t know when to give up.
(Looking back, he’s glad for that.)
I-Land is announced. A survival show. Jungwon barely scans the requirements to be a contestant before he’s signing, understanding only in passing that he’s writing away parts of his freedom and privacy.
Even before he’s confirmed as one of I-Land’s participants, Jungwon dutifully spends more time in the practice rooms singing until his voice is wrecked and dancing until a fresh layer of bruises paint his knees. The grueling training appeals to his workaholic tendencies and beats down some of the self-doubts.
When the official program and schedules are posted with the finalized list of contestants, something like fire settles into Jungwon’s veins, restless and excited, hungry and relentless.
It’s another late night at the company with Jungwon bent over panting in front of the floor to ceiling mirrors, the hours blending into the rhythm of the song, adrenaline and fatigue interwoven through his muscles. He calls a break for himself, setting an alarm for a quick ten minutes to grab something from the vending machines.
On the way back, he sees a lithe figure dancing on one of the cctv cameras in the trainee practice rooms.
Unwittingly, Jungwon slows down to watch and then altogether, stops .
(He supposes Niki has that effect on people, even before he was known as Niki to the world.)
The boy is correcting a piece of the footwork, shifting his weight with hands holding the edge of his hoodie, eyes focused on the mirror. Jungwon can tell it’s not an easy choreography, the angles of his body twisting with every half a beat to an already fast tempo. He makes it look effortless though.
A few moments after the boy is seemingly satisfied with the footwork, he starts the music and Jungwon can do nothing but stare .
From the first jump, the boy swings into the chorus, hitting each beat with power and precision and an insane amount of control for someone who looks younger than most of the trainees at the company.
Jungwon recognizes the song at the high kick before the immediate transition to the floor for a fraction of a second. The subsequent shifting to the half-bent footwork with palms flat and facing down and then out, sharp and isolated movements melding into more fluid motions, twisting again and ending on one knee.
BTS-sunbaenim’s ON. Notoriously one of their most challenging choreographies not just in the technical aspects but in the details too, not to mention the stamina needed to maintain the high impact piece and high energy marching beat throughout the entire song.
It was one thing to learn the dance to hard discographies, it was another to dance to it well enough to add in minute features like Jimin-sunbaenim deciding to fan out his fingers a certain way when he’s center.
Jungwon doesn’t realize he’s breathless until his alarm goes off again.
It takes him longer than he’d like to admit to pick his jaw up from the floor and march back to his own designated practice, the silhouette of another dancer plaguing the edges of his mind.
He finally puts a name to his face during monthly evaluations. Nishimura Riki, dance machine, supposedly able to learn a dance choreography within minutes. Jungwon kind of expects for him to be intense too, like his aura and passion for dance would carry into his personality and the way he interacted with the world.
As Jungwon steps out of his vocal evaluation, he nods at Riki. The boy greets him shyly with a proper bow and everything and Jungwon murmurs a quick, “Good luck.”
“Thank you.” Riki’s lips curl with uncertainty. His voice is quiet, his demeanor moreso, and Jungwon scolds himself for the assumptions he’s made. “You sounded great.”
Their interactions remain minimal in those weeks leading up to the official start of filming, simply base awareness of one another and maybe clocking strengths and weaknesses. Then, I-Land begins and the fire in Jungwon’s soul burns.
He knows it’s dangerous to hope for someone else on a survival show, pitted against one another as they are, so he buries it deep down as they’re put through one grueling trial after another and contestant after contestant is eliminated, the cameras broadcasting their lives and their heartbreaks for the whole globe to see.
The final stage comes too soon and not soon enough. Jungwon’s heart threatens to burst as one by one, the names are revealed.
Seven boys, a mishmash of personalities and backgrounds. Connected through one shared dream.
Enhypen
(And looking back at the years since,
through the softer moments of late nights and bared hearts,
through the rougher waves of disagreements and painful arguments,
through the criticisms under the microscope of the internet,
through the chaotic times of variety shows and coming of age celebrations away from the cameras…
When the spotlight shines brightly on their seven souls wound tightly together and spelling a lifetime of promise, the screams deafening even through their in-ears, Niki’s hand in his as they take their bows together, Jungwon knows he’s finally home.)
⊹ ☽ ༓ ☾ ⊹
coda.
Notes:
Aaaaand that's Wonki 25 Lives!!
Jungwon mentioned in an En o' Clock episode that his first impression of Niki was dancing BTS' ON and being blown away -- did my best to capture that here and kinda make things full circle as they found one another in in this life, in our lifetimes 🥹
This was originally supposed to be under 10k and I was supposed to be practicing ahem brevity. I actually started writing this story for a different fandom but then Enhypen popped into my life and well, here we are after 27k+ words haha
[I definitely don't want to take credit for the original idea of 25 Lives that is amazing and beautiful 💖]
Thank you for reading and please take care of yourself!
-phia ^-^
CottonAuroras on Chapter 1 Wed 30 Apr 2025 10:28AM UTC
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spreadmywings (Fangirl_Phia3) on Chapter 1 Sun 04 May 2025 05:35PM UTC
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anonymous (Guest) on Chapter 2 Wed 05 Feb 2025 09:48AM UTC
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spreadmywings (Fangirl_Phia3) on Chapter 2 Sat 08 Feb 2025 03:22AM UTC
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CottonAuroras on Chapter 2 Wed 30 Apr 2025 10:29AM UTC
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spreadmywings (Fangirl_Phia3) on Chapter 2 Sun 04 May 2025 05:37PM UTC
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seraphimesque on Chapter 3 Sat 08 Feb 2025 09:06AM UTC
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spreadmywings (Fangirl_Phia3) on Chapter 3 Sun 09 Feb 2025 12:11AM UTC
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CottonAuroras on Chapter 3 Wed 30 Apr 2025 10:30AM UTC
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spreadmywings (Fangirl_Phia3) on Chapter 3 Sun 04 May 2025 05:37PM UTC
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CottonAuroras on Chapter 5 Wed 30 Apr 2025 10:31AM UTC
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spreadmywings (Fangirl_Phia3) on Chapter 5 Sun 04 May 2025 05:40PM UTC
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CottonAuroras on Chapter 16 Wed 30 Apr 2025 10:50AM UTC
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spreadmywings (Fangirl_Phia3) on Chapter 16 Sun 04 May 2025 05:42PM UTC
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CottonAuroras on Chapter 19 Wed 30 Apr 2025 11:03AM UTC
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spreadmywings (Fangirl_Phia3) on Chapter 19 Sun 04 May 2025 05:44PM UTC
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xyzlovesthis (Guest) on Chapter 20 Tue 06 May 2025 09:31AM UTC
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spreadmywings (Fangirl_Phia3) on Chapter 20 Thu 08 May 2025 08:28PM UTC
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