Jongdae felt something different when he walked into the training room. It was six thirty in the morning, dawn had not even cracked the sky, and he was bleary eyed, half asleep. But stepping foot onto the white tile, for a moment he could not breathe. 

The surge of energy hit him instant, coursing up his body in a heady tidal wave. He felt his skin spark, and caught himself just before the bolts could rear themselves fully into the ground at which his fingers pointed. 

A question had begun to form itself in his mouth, but he swallowed it down when he saw the supervisors’ faces. They hadn’t been expecting him. In the second that he had before a word was spoken, he took in the room- Mr. Lee standing in the corner, the dimmed lights, and the wide wall-length television screen showing what looked to be a list of information. And then it was winked away, all the supervisors springing into action, shutting down monitors and typing on keyboards and lifting the lights. 

“Jongdae,” the principal addressed him, striding over with a smooth smile. “Forgive me, I forgot your training schedules had changed. I’ll get out of your way.” He grinned wider, showing his teeth, before stepping around Jongdae to leave the room. 

 Already someone was giving him instructions, ushering him to a chair, and the television screen had been turned back on with the details of his new assignment. Everything back to normal. 

But Jongdae knew it wasn’t. There was an extra tightness in the supervisors’ voices, and when one of them placed the white pads over his temples, her fingers were trembling. 

He had seen something he wasn’t supposed to see. But more than that, he had felt it, right down to his very bones, had endured the sheer power of whatever had been on that screen inside the core of his chest. 

Luhan. That night they had kept him behind- it had been the same, an energy force so intense it almost felt like death. 

Mr. Lee was hiding something. Jongdae glanced back at the televised wall. He had only seen the black and white words for a second, a list, a document of some sort. A second was not long, and the words had filled up the entire screen, so small they had been barely readable. But he had read a few. 

They had been names. A very, very long list of names. 

And he had recognized a few. 

-

Jongin sat looking at Kyungsoo’s bed, perfectly made and empty in the morning sunshine. His jaw tightened and untightened, fingers wringing a mess in his lap. Last night they had lain against one another in that bed, enveloped with each other in silence. Kyungsoo’s face had been buried into his chest, so close Jongin had felt the whisper of his eyelashes against his skin. 

“You don’t have to do this for me,” Kyungsoo had whispered, his voice breaking. 

“I do,” Jongin had answered, firm. He had refused to tell Kyungsoo exactly what Tao had asked of him, but he was bad at hiding his anxiety and Kyungsoo knew him too well. “I’ll probably be in detention for a while,” was all Jongin could say to help him understand. 

Now it was day, and Jongin had returned from his own training session eight minutes before. Kyungsoo had just finished class, but Jongin had told him last night to stay in the classroom hallways, not to come back to their room. In twelve minutes he would also have a lesson to attend. Which meant in two minutes he was supposed to meet Tao in the west hallways with the white box, and whatever was inside it. 

His lip was trembling. He forced his hands still in his lap, watching the clock count down, his breath coming in small pants. 

And then he closed his eyes and let himself fall inwards, let the world squeeze around him as his exhale rose in a rapid torrent, a vinous song which swaddled him sweetly into embrace. 

A moment later he opened his eyes in the battle simulation room. 

It was empty, which was the first victory. Although Jongin had known that it was scheduled to be so, there had been no guarantee that a supervisor would not be in there anyway, cleaning the tools or cross-checking their simulation data, present and alert when Jongin Teleported into the room. 

But he was alone. 

It took him only a moment to find the box Tao had been talking about, on the corner of the white table that housed the rest of the training tools. 

Oddly he felt calm. The Guarders had spent so much time under pressure that it was almost natural, his anxiety from anticipation fading once the action had begun. 

He hesitated only a fraction of a second before lifting the box, light and fitting neatly into his palms. And then he closed his eyes again, let the air squeeze in around him, and stepped out into the west halls. 

Tao was already there, leaning against the wall. Without saying a word Jongin the box towards him, wanting to rid himself of it as quickly as possible. 

Tao grabbed it with his metal hand, just as much urgency in his movement, turning to Jongin with wild eyes. “Thank you,” he breathed, genuine gratitude in his shaky voice. “Now go.” 

Jongin didn’t need to be told twice. He closed his eyes, hot power rushing out from his chest, and Teleported back to his bed. 

He opened his eyes to the same morning sunshine, and glanced at the clock. Five minutes to get to Maths. 

-

Luhan was missing from class. Sehun noticed right away, felt a sting of remorse for noticing, then sat down resolutely beside Yixing. “Hi,” he said, already feeling the two hours stretch out in front of him without the Telepath’s pretty face as a distraction. 

“Where is everyone?” Yixing wondered out loud, not even greeting him. 

Sehun’s brow furrowed, confused that Yixing would refer to Luhan as ‘everyone,’ when he realized that the Telepath was not the only one missing. Minseok was gone, which wasn’t that unusual, but upon a second scan of the room, it appeared that Jongin, Kris and Tao were also absent. 

That was weird. 

“Huh,” Sehun shrugged, wondering briefly if the schedules had been changed again, when Jongin burst through the door. 

“Sorry I’m late, professor,” he said in one breath. He rushed past Sehun to his seat, face tight and hair a mess. 

The professor looked as if he had barely heard Jongin, his eyes crinkling in confusion as he looked around the room. “Well,” he said with one more glance at the door. “Let’s get started then.” 

Not even a comment about the empty class, even though it was clear he didn’t know where the missing students were. Sehun supposed that wasn’t his job. He let himself slowly set into a daydream, trying to recall the way Luhan had looked at him the night before. 

 Sehun had been only lightly surprised to find that underneath all his pristine posture and wide clear eyes, the Telepath was sweetly sinful. They had seen each other a few times outside of lessons now, occasionally in the late hours if Minseok was meeting with the principal, but more often than not, due to Luhan’s late training schedule, during the twenty minute breaks between classes. 

It was risky, but Sehun liked it. And Luhan didn’t really seem to mind either. 

Being with him was like nothing Sehun had experienced before. While the Telepath let him take the lead whenever he wanted, Sehun had an odd feeling that every time he did so it was because Luhan wanted to. Sometimes he would say things, cling to him differently, or even just look at him a certain way that made Sehun feel like he was gazing into a mirror. 

You could just ruin me, Sehun had once thought, peering right into Luhan’s bright eyes.  

“How sweet,” Luhan had said out loud, and Sehun had recoiled, confused more than anything, but before he could say much else his mouth was being covered in a kiss. 

He forgot, sometimes, that Luhan could read his mind.  

-