Hi everybody. Thanks for stopping by.

Reasons I haven't updated in a while:

-I was very busy

-I was without internet for a while. It was the worst. 

And I did a thing where I chose a song that inspired each character. Here are links to the songs for previous chapters. 

Minseok

Kyungsoo

Sehun

Xiumin

Warnings: KaiDO, mild swearing probably. 

Fifth Thread – D.O

D.O watched as Kai snapped at the others to quit goofing around and, “put this stuff away. We all have places to be.”

Like ice cream parlors. That was the reason D.O sat in the back row of the theater and waited for the stagehands to finish dismantling the scenery instead of escaping the un-airconditioned building. He sighed, counting the number of pieces that needed to be put away until Kai could join him.    

This was the final year he would be able to help with the local community theater annual spring production, having served as the main piano player for the past two years. They had just finished the final dress rehearsal and D.O felt a bit mournful and teary. ‘It was good while it lasted’ he told himself.

“Looks like you’re ready for opening night,” an officious voice said from behind him.

D.O jumped, the production’s sheet music spilling out of his lap. He bit his tongue to keep from swearing and looked over his shoulder.

The man who had spoken looked out of the place in the slightly run-down theater with balding burgundy seats and stained floors. He wore a white shirt and crisp gray suit, hair nearly styled with product. A pair of expensive looking sunglasses hung from the front pocket of his jacket.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.

“That’s okay.” D.O bent forward and picked up the fallen music. “Can I help you with something?”

“I hope so. My name is Kangta and I’m here from the Hera Institute.”

His irritation immediately faded. He stood up and turned, pushing his thick-framed glasses back up his nose, the glasses that, according to Kai, made him look like an old man and a little boy at the same time. “The Hera Institute?” he repeated, trying to keep his voice nonchalant.

Kangta nodded. “I’ve been looking for you, D.O. I went to your home but nobody was there so I stopped by your school. One of your teachers said you might be at the community theater. I’m glad I caught you. Could I speak with you outside?”

“Um. Yes, I suppose.” D.O avoided looking toward the stage where he knew the others were watching him. He followed Kangta through the doors, into the lobby. “What did you want to speak with me about?” he asked, stopping just short of the exit.

Kangta lifted his foot and the sticky linoleum floor made an attempt to hold on to the bottom of his leather shoe. “Is there some place more private we could speak?”

D.O tightened his grip on the sheet music. “I’d be more comfortable if we stayed out here.”   

Kangta smiled. “You don’t believe I’m from the Hera Institute.”

“I didn’t say that,” said D.O. “But you’ve gone through an awful lot of trouble just to speak with a rejected applicant and all I have is your word that you are actually from the Hera Institute and not a e or human trafficker or some other kind of scam artist so I think seeing some credentials are in order.”

Kangta stared at him for a long moment before reaching into his pocket and pulling out an off-white business card. “Call my office. They’ll explain.”

THE HERA INSTITUTE OF SCIENTIFIC DEVELOPMENT AND RESEARCH

Kangta

North Wing, Sector 267-C

Recruitment Specialist

Tel: 010-9847-3849

[email protected]

Without taking his eyes off the person in question, D.O pulled out his cell phone and quickly dialed the listed number.

“Hera Institute Recruitment Office,” a stern voice answered.

D.O took a moment to respond. “Hi…could I please speak with Specialist Kangta?”

“He’s currently out of the office. He’s been seconded by Artemis for a special recruiting assignment. May I ask who is calling?”

“Oh, um…wrong number.” D.O hung up, his entire body gone numb. He silently slid his phone back into his pocket. “I’m sorry for calling you a e.”

“It’s quite alright,” said Kangta, sounding more amused than anything else. “You’re a skeptic and that’s not always a bad thing, especially at the Hera Institute. Now that you’re sure I’m not going to sell your organs on the black market, I’d like to speak with you about the Artemis Youth Program.”

D.O nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

 “As you heard, I’m currently working with the Youth Program to review previously un-admitted applicants to make sure we weren’t too hasty when we initially rejected them. While most of the candidates were not accepted for valid reasons, there were a few that deserved reconsideration.” He paused, seemingly waiting for a response.

D.O obliged. “I see,” he whispered, mouth suddenly very dry.

 “You’re a smart young man,” Kangta continued. “Do you understand why I wanted to speak with you?”

He hesitated. “Yes, I think so.”

“Good. Of course, you’ll need to retake the exam and get another full physical. And we’ll also be doing another background check to make sure you haven’t gotten into any unsavory business since you last applied.”

D.O’s breath hardened into a lump and lodged itself in his throat.

“It’s rare that second chances like these come along but I believe you will be an excellent addition to the Program.” He gestured to the small card still in D.O’s hand. “If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call. We’ll be in touch.”

D.O didn’t know what to say. “Thank you, sir.”

 *

D.O takes the city train to work every day even though he could probably afford a car or a driver. He prefers the anonymity and ease of public transportation over sitting through stop-and-go rush hour traffic. Plus, the commute gives him a chance to indulge in his guilty pleasure: people watching.

He gets on the train and opts to stand, holding onto one of the overhead handles. A fast-paced dance track blasts into his ears from the headphones connected to a device in his pocket. The other commuters are absorbed in their own routine, most of whom D.O recognizes.

The business man who has a habit of wearing ugly ties leans against the door, even though they’re not supposed to, with his headphones in and eyes closed. The middle aged woman with the tightest perm in the world enjoys a sitcom on her phone. The old man next to her watches over her shoulder even though he can’t hear the dialogue. A teenage girl stands in the corner and rapidly taps her thumb across the screen of her phone, feet apart and planted to keep from falling every time the train stops at the next station.

Sitting a few feet from him is a new face. She’s around his age, dressed professionally, with a book in her hand rather than an electronic device. He squints at the title on the cover but doesn’t recognize it. She glances up at him and he looks away, pretending to be fascinated by a smudge on the wall. His hands move towards his face to steady a pair non-existent pair of glasses, a nervous habit from before his corrective vision surgery.  

When enough time as passed that D.O is positive that she’s forgotten all about him, he risks another look.

She seems to have been waiting for his attention and his eyes immediately meet hers.

She says something he can’t hear over the music.

He pulls out an earbud and asks, “Pardon?”

“You also work at the Institute,” she says, pointing at the keycard dangling from the lanyard around his neck. She reaches into her purse and pulls out a similar card with her picture and name.

Luna. Pretty name for a pretty girl.

The train lurches to a stop. The doors open. A few people get off but many more get on.

D.O bends awkwardly as an old woman crams herself between him and the other passengers.

Luna immediately stands up. “Take my seat, ma’am,” she says, grabbing the overhead handle next to D.O.

The old woman grunts a note of gratitude and plops down in the hard seat.

“I’ve never seen you before,” says Luna, “but, then again, the Institute is huge. You could work there for ten years and still not meet everyone in the same induction class. What building are you in?”

“East wing, Sector 302, Building D,” he answers. “You?”

“No wonder we’ve never met. I work across campus. West wing, Sector 561, Building H.”

She’s a chemist, he notes. Or at least works in the chemical sector.

“Do you normally take this train to work?” he asks, curiosity winning over his usual restraint.

“I take the red line but there’s been an accident on the tracks. With the delay, I figured I’d take the yellow line.” She glances over her shoulder. “So,” she says quietly and D.O has to lean in to hear her. “What goes on in Building D?”

D.O blinks innocently. “What do you mean?”

“Oh come on. Everybody knows about Sector 302-D. You’re the most secretive department in the entire Institute. Rumor is you have a swimming pool and racquet ball court.”

He’s surprised by his own laughter, something he normally doesn’t share with strangers. “I’m afraid that is classified information.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Her eyes twinkle with good humor.

The train stops. Doors open. D.O and Luna shuffle out of the compartment. They fall into a slightly awkward silence as they take the escalators up to ground level and walk the short distance from the station to the gated East entrance of the Institute where the full official title greets them in bronze letters.

THE HERA INSTITUTE OF SCIENTIFIC DEVELOPMENT AND RESEARCH

The largest private research center in the country.

 D.O pauses a moment before they part ways. “Guess I’ll see you around,” he says.

Luna gestures toward the enormous campus; a little over one hundred acres of land, four wings, 600 buildings of varied sizes plus 200 labs, 28 thousand employees. “That’d be quite the coincidence.”

“Or fate,” he says and wonders how long it would take her to cross the campus. Even though they had entered the gate closest to his building, he still needs to ride six minutes on the intra-compound rail or walk 17 minutes.

She tilts her head and smiles, eyes raking over him as if seeing him anew. “Okay. If we run into each other again, it’ll be a fate. A sign.” She turns with a little wave. “Bye D.O.”   

 He watches her walk away. “A sign for what?” he mutters to himself. Shrugging, he makes his way toward the rail where he just manages to squeeze in before the doors close.

The weather has started to cool down and the trees are showing the earliest hints of red and yellow. D.O likes the campus best in autumn, when the leaves blanket the ground and even the most serious scientists can be seen kicking up colorful piles of fallen foliage.

The rail stops. The overhead display blinks ‘302’ in red. D.O gets off.

He makes his way to one of the smaller buildings, made of white brick, not glass like most of the others. The entrance is inconspicuous; a heavy wooden door. He scans his card on the security reader and pushes through.

“Good morning sir,” the girl at the front desk greets.

“Good morning Lizzy,” he returns and gives her the friendly version of his smile. He continues walking until he comes to an elevator toward the back of the building. He holds his finger down on the button while a light reads his print. The doors open and D.O steps inside. The doors close.

A few seconds pass before a pleasant automated voice announces, “Good morning, Agent D.O.”

“Morning,” he replies.

The elevator starts its descent without pressing any buttons since there is only one possible destination.

Coming to a stop with a gentle thud, the doors finally open and D.O steps out into a rather quiet office space. A few people, fellow early risers, chat over coffee. It’s the calm before the daily storm of phone calls, requests for information, relaying of instructions, discussions of matters not important enough to warrant the use of a private meeting room.

D.O hates the layout of the office:  a grid of cubicles with low walls for most workers while the higher-ups enjoy rooms with mahogany furniture and doors. Management insists the open arrangement encourages communication and teamwork but D.O doesn’t understand how it breeds anything but annoyance and contempt.

A tall, skinny young man intercepts him before he gets to his cube. “You’re late.”

“Shut up, Kris,” D.O says mildly. He checks his watch. “I’m 23 minutes early, .”

“That’s still two minutes late for you.” Kris smiles and walks him to his desk. “How’s that report coming?”

“You’ll get it before it’s due, don’t worry,” says D.O, turning on his computer.

“I know that. I just wanted to see if you were having any trouble.” He clears his throat. “Tao is making one of his visits today. I was wondering if you wanted to see him, maybe ask him a few questions since…you know…”

“I wasn’t aware that he had been reinstated for duty,” says D.O, hands flying across the keyboard as he logs in. “I thought they decommissioned handlers who lose their targets.”

“The target tried to escape and Tao killed him. Technically, he followed protocol but he didn’t bring back the body so he just received a temporary suspension.” Kris shrugs. “Plus, it wouldn’t be in the Institute’s best interest to decommission Tao. He’s the best they’ve got.”

“Yeah, because he’s bat – ” D.O pauses, “ – unique.”

Kris laughs. “You’ll have to learn to get along with him. He’s all you have once you’re over there.”

“We get along just fine.”

It’s not a lie. They’re always civil even though neither is too familiar with the other. D.O knows they are the same age but Tao had been one of the youngest recruits at age eleven while D.O had been much older when he was accepted into the Artemis Youth Program.

“What I mean is, you’ll have to learn to trust him,” Kris corrects himself. “Come on. You can go with me to welcome him back. The report can wait.”

“So you say now,” says D.O, reluctantly getting out of his seat. “If the director gets pissed, I’m telling him it’s your fault.”

“Fine, fine.” Kris looks at his watch. “Come on. If we don’t get there early enough, they won’t let us watch. You’ve never actually seen anybody cross, have you?”

D.O doesn’t answer.

A different elevator from the one they use to get to the office takes them back up to ground level. The lobby has started to fill up with men and women in business formal ware, socializing before having to slave away at desks or sit in on boring meetings. When the elevator door opens and Kris and D.O emerge, everyone stops moving for a brief moment.

In Sector 302-D, the physical hierarchy runs counter to the structural one. On the third floor, a team of clerical and administrative assistants does the work for the various departments in the building. The second floor consists of corporate management sub-branches, unique to Building D because of the secret nature of their work: accountants, technical support, even HR.

Engineers occupy the ground level. Since Sector 302 is dedicated to aerospace research, that is the field of concentration for most of the Building’s engineers although they have a few computer and electrical engineers to keep the machines running smoothly.

Those that work below ground, like D.O and Kris, are the elite of Building D. Sworn to secrecy that carries a heavy penalty in the case they break their oath, and possessing the highest level of security clearance possible, they are the subject of many rumors and conspiracies but also admiration and envy.

The crowd parts a bit as Kris strides toward the door. D.O trails behind him, amused by the expressions of fear and intrigue his menacing-looking colleague receives.

As soon as they are safely outside, D.O says, “I wonder what everyone would think if they knew you burst into tears every time that Mother’s Day commercial about the real estate agent plays on television.”

Kris shrugs in an attempt to appear indifferent but D.O sees the tip of ears turn red. “They’d probably think that I love my mother which is true. My mother and I are very close.”

They board the rail and ride towards the Center, aptly named since it is where all four wings of the compound intersect, and a twenty minute trip from Sector 302. Most of the employees are already in their respective buildings so they have the entire compartment to themselves.

“Are you nervous about going?” Kris asks.

D.O looks out the compartment window. Moving at this speed, he can’t see the autumn tinged of the leaves. Everything rushes by as a green blur. “Of course I am,” he replies. “Wouldn’t you be?”

“I almost was.” Kris closes his mouth as the rail stops and three young researchers get on. Immunologists by the look of their lab coats.

By the time they get off five stations later, the words are threatening to break out of D.O’s mouth like a cough. “Why did you stay?” D.O inquires before anybody else has a chance to interrupt.

“I didn’t have a choice. They said they didn’t need me to go. Something happened I suppose.”

The Center grows larger and larger.

D.O knows he should stop asking questions but he doesn’t. “Who were you supposed to be?”

The rail eases to a stop and Kris smiles apologetically. “Sorry, we’re out of time.” He steps out.

D.O trudges after him, disappointed. They both scan their keycards to get into the Center and Kris takes the lead, guiding D.O towards a door. The sign above them warns that only authorized personnel will be allowed entry. There is a kiosk on either side of the door that reads their prints.

The door releases a mechanical sigh as it slides open to reveal a long, completely white corridor leading to a blank wall. D.O hesitates. “Are you sure this is right way?”

“Of course,” Kris says confidently. “Come on.”

The door closes behind them and for a moment, D.O twitches, startled.

Kris puts a large, reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Relax,” he whispers even though there is nobody around to bother with their conversation.  

D.O winces at the sound their steps make on the floor which is so clean that he can see their reflections staring up at them. He glances around for cameras and asks one last question. “Do you regret not being able to go?”

“I was just doing my job,” Kris replies.

D.O is about to point out that he did not answer the question but they reach the end of the corridor. The wall opens to reveal a set of steep escalators, one descending and the other ascending from the bottom. A slanted ceiling conceals their destination but he hears voices. He makes Kris get on the escalator first.

“Is this the first time you’re seeing the top of my head?” Kris teases and D.O considers pushing him down the moving steps.

They arrive at the bottom and D.O forgets to be annoyed with his taller colleague.

The room is large; impressively enough that he wonders how the Center manages to hide it. Men and women in white lab coats scurry back and forth between machines, shouting out power levels and fiddling with knobs and buttons. They glance at the two new arrivals but don’t tell them to leave.

D.O points out six upright poles in the middle of the commotion. “What’s that for?”

“You’ll see,” says Kris.

Someone shouts, “Incoming!” and the chaos intensifies.

A different voice, female, begins to countdown. “Ten, nine, eight – ”

The air shifts, fuller, thicker somehow. A film of cold sweat appears on the back of D.O’s neck.  

“Four, three, two – ”.

Everything, including the hum of the machines, stops for less than a moment.

A strangled yell echoes off the high ceiling and in a burst of intense white light, a young man appears in the center of the six poles.

D.O feels his stomach coil, threatening to implode. He’s heard about the process, visualized it in his head like a scene out of a science fiction film. He imagined there would be orchestral music or a dramatic close-up shot of Tao’s face when he crossed but even without the effects, it still feels like a hallucination.

Tao stumbles sideways, the weight of the backpack he wears nearly pulling him down, but he manages to stay on his feet. He laughs and high-fives the first person to rush towards him: a haggard looking doctor. “Good job, everyone,” says Tao. “Thank you for not losing me in the void between universes. I appreciate that.”

His tone is light but D.O’s gut wrenches a little bit more at his words and their implication.

Tao fights his way past the circle of lab coats surrounding him. “Kris!” he calls and rushes towards them. “How have you been? Thanks for coming to see me.”

“Oh, were you coming back today? I had no idea,” Kris replies as Tao pulls him into a hug. The engineers and scientists hold back, irritated but ultimately amused and touched by the reunion.

“Who is this...hey, D.O! Thanks for coming out, too.” Tao moves on and embraces the tense young man.

“Er – yeah, sure. No problem.” D.O untangles himself from the enthusiastic limbs and straightens his jacket. “How was the, um…trip?”

Tao shrugs. “Fine, I guess. It was over like that.” He snaps his fingers. “And I don’t get queasy anymore.”

“Oh. That’s good,” D.O says faintly.

Tao eases the backpack off his shoulders and hands it off to one of the scientists. “Did anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

“We’ll get you caught up on all the gossip over lunch,” says Kris. “D.O and I will take you somewhere nice if you promise to behave during your medical check-up.”

“How nice?”

“I was thinking somewhere on Twelfth Avenue. What do you think, D.O?”

Twelfth Avenue lunches range from expensive to symbolic robbery but D.O figures if Kris is the one suggesting it, he will foot the bill or find a way for the Institute to pay. “Sounds good to me.”

Tao brightens. “Okay. Don’t forget you promised.” He looks over his shoulder as the doctor leads him away. “You promised!”

Kris raises a hand in acknowledgement and watches the doctor coax him through a door across the room. He turns to D.O with an uncharacteristic look of anxiety. “Are you okay? Did I make you more nervous by showing you?”

D.O shrugs a shoulder. “It’s not as bad as I imagined it to be.”

While the scientists and engineers continue to follow-up and work on machine maintenance, they take the ascending escalator. The wall opens and they are back in the sterile white corridor.

“I think…” D.O feels the need to reassure his colleague. “…I think it’ll be okay.” He glances up. “What about you? Are you ready?”

“Of course,” says Kris, blithe as ever.

They reenter the busy Center and D.O winces at the sudden increase in chatter and noise. Nobody else is aware of the fact that other universes exist, much less that under their feet, somebody just crossed from one to another.

They pass the front desk where the receptionist calmly fields multiple incoming phone calls while handing a slip of paper to a nervous young man.

Kris stops and taps him on the shoulder. “Excuse me but does your director know where you are?”

The young man jumps and turns, half of an apology already stumbling out of his mouth, but upon seeing Kris, he merely scowls. “You jerk. You scared the out of me.”

D.O recognizes the perpetually sleepy expression and dark skin.

Bedroom eyes and sun-kissed glow, back when he was more generous and had less to lose.

They step away from the front desk and continue to chat. He looks happy and at ease, oblivious to D.O’s immense discomfort.

It takes every bit of strength he possesses not bolt out of the building, especially when his defenses are so worn from what he witnessed down below.

“Oh, by the way, Kai, D.O, do you two know each other?” Kris asks.

Kai pulls back those lips into a small smile.

White noise fills his head.

Kai doesn’t tell the whole truth.

“Come on, Kris,” he says instead. “You’ve introduces us twice? Maybe three times?”

“Four,” D.O interjects thoughtlessly.

Kai looks wide awake as his deep brown eyes pierce D.O’s startled ones.

He looks away and the white noise escalates to dizzying levels.

“Oh right. I guess I forgot.” Kris smiles apologetically. “So are you doing what I think you’re doing?”

Kai nods. “I just submitted my transfer request.” He suddenly sighs, looking forlorn.

“Cheer up.” Kris punches him lightly on the shoulder. “You’ve paid your dues in the Kinesiology sector. You’re kind of famous at the Institute for lasting as long as you did under Director Jaewon.”

“Yeah, I suppose. I mean, I understand that the man is a genius but he’s just…” Kai trails off.

Kris nods understandingly. “He’s utterly insane.”

Kai throws back his head and laughs. A sound of unrestrained joy.

D.O hates him.

 “Hey, we’re going to lunch on Twelfth Avenue if you want to join,” Kris offers. “I’ll be putting it on the Institute’s tab so we can even order appetizers.”

He tries not to look too relieved when Kai shakes his head.

“I’m swamped right now,” he explains. “I can’t slack off on the chance that the transfer doesn’t work out and I’m stuck with Director Jaewon forever.”

Kris looks sympathetic. “It will all work out, okay? I’ll see you back at the house.”

*

D.O quickly shoved the card into his pocket when he heard the stagehand volunteers come into the lobby. He looked down, ignoring their stares and whispers.

Kai was the last to leave the theater. He shuffled apprehensively towards D.O, shoulders slouched and hands in his pocket. “Who was that guy?” he asked.

“Oh, he wanted to know how to get to the bank,” said D.O, sliding the sheet music into his bag.

“But there’s no bank around here.”

“I know. I told him he’d have to take 35^th Street all the way down to the bridge and he didn’t seem too happy. I guess some people don’t have a sense of direction.” He noticed the doubtful look on Kai’s face. “Hey, come on. Let’s get ice cream. I’d kill someone for a chocolate cone.”

He reached out and lightly touched the back of Kai’s wrist.

The stagehand dropped his suspicions and smiled. “Okay. Thanks for waiting.” His head swiveled as he looked around the empty lobby. “Before we go, I want to show you something.”

D.O wasn’t sure if he could handle another surprise but he didn’t want to give Kai any more reasons to be suspicious. He followed him toward the North Hall where they housed the incompetent administration office of the theater amongst other rooms.

“In here,” said Kai, opening a door heavy wooden door.

D.O frowned but before he could protest, Kai pushed him inside. The door swung closed and the dingy light bulb above them flickered to life.

“You wanted to show me the cleaning supply closet?” D.O asked, looking around. “As far as closets go, I’ve seen better ones.”

Kai laughed. “You’re an idiot,” he said as his smile faded. He plucked D.O’s glasses off his face and leaned forward. 

D.O felt the first spark of panic begin to build in his gut. But he didn’t turn away as Kai kissed him, slow and gentle. He parted his lips to catch his breath but the taller boy used that as an opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue darting forward.

The card in D.O’s pocket crinkled as he swayed and he remembered that what they were doing fell outside the boundary of practices that the law and society deemed appropriate, and into “unsavory business” territory.

He squeaked and broke away. His hands scrabbled for his glasses and he shoved them back on his face which burned furiously. He turned, wiping his mouth.

“I-I’m sorry,” Kai stuttered. “D.O, I’m sorry. Did…did I take it too far?”

D.O remained silent. The guilt washed over him in waves and waves. In between each surge, his skin prickled with confusion and shame. But also with more excitement and exhilaration than the first time they had kissed a few weeks prior. The panic morphed into a flurry of clashing sensations and he lifted his head to meet the other’s gaze.

“Please.” Kai’s voice wavered on the edge of desperation. “Say something.”

Even under the grimy light, Kai looked like a miracle with his heavy-lidded eyes and impossible mouth. He could be friends with anyone he wanted, kiss whoever he fancied. D.O had pretended not to notice the attempts of Yoona, the female lead and prettiest girl in the city, to capture Kai’s attention. But here he was in a supply closet with a short, skinny boy who wore old man/little boy glasses, and close to tears.

D.O took a deep breath. “I don’t think we should get ice cream today.”

Kai reached out a hand but thought better of it and pulled back. “Look, I’m sorry. I – ”

“My parents aren’t home,” D.O interrupted and he continued before he could lose his nerve. “Would you like to come over?”

He used to always have a plan but ever since he was rejected from Artemis and became friends with Kai, the urge to always know exactly where he was going, what he was going to do, had diminished.

That kind of abandon scared him and he knew that if things worked out with the Hera Institute, he would rather have the stability they offered.

But for the warmth and weight of Kai’s embrace, the identical beat of their pounding hearts, he could be reckless one last time.   

A/N: Thanks for reading. That was kind of long, I think. 

I've written 4 lines of the next chapter which is Suho. Hopefully it won't take as long as this chapter.