Chapter 6: Turning a Blind Eye

Jongdae woke up to the sound of bottles crashing to the ground. 

Not all too pleasant, but there was something relieving about the sight of the room whose bed he now occupied. Thick blankets and fresh clothes wrapped around him tightly to keep warm. He had new bandages around his leg that covered soft, pinking flesh. There was a pleasant smell wafting through the air. Like roses.

Fay’s male friend — who she swore wasn’t her boyfriend no matter how many times the curious Jongdae asked — apparently had a taste for the finer things in life. After making it to Clockwork City, they made way for this “not boyfriend’s” home. Its opulence was hidden away between row upon row of graying buildings. Jongdae wondered how Fay managed to become friends with a man who must have been the farthest thing from scrawny and dirt-smeared. 

Maybe she’d saved this “not boyfriend” just as she’d saved him. 

A sellsword of sorts she was. A mercenary who’d done enough to earn herself a key to the haven of the Underground Jongdae now laid in. What a savior she was, managing to pull her bullet from his leg, earnestly treating it with skill, like it were her own.

What a savior she was, procuring Jongdae a ticket for the next elevator ride on up into the Haven: his home. That was two days ago. Tomorrow morning, she’d be sending him off alive and well. She’d done good by him, despite how much wrong she’d done by him in the past.

More bottles fell to the ground, followed by a loud bang. Something hit the closed bathroom door with force. 

Feeling better, he had a skip in his step as he shifted out of bed. Curiosity getting the better of him, he didn’t knock. He didn’t even wonder if he should. When he should have. He should have wondered a lot of things beforehand — not in the moment. Not in that moment in which he gripped down, turned the brass nob, and swung the door open. 

There was Fay in Minseok’s arms. Anything but scrawny and dirt-smeared. Legs tangled with his. Hands grasping at any bare skin they could find. Wet hair his cheeks. Her hooded eyes turned towards Jongdae. 

Bottles riddled the floor at their feet. Rose-scented perfume spilled out into red pools. A single second of wordlessness passed between them. Jongdae closed the door just as quickly as he’d opened it, deciding it’d be better if he went back to sleep — with the hopes that perhaps, just perhaps, a more pleasant sight would be waiting for him when he woke up.

Jongdae was much less excited about the prospect of shopping than he’d thought he’d be yesterday night. After discovering their fling in the bathroom, he heard Minseok and Fay exit like it was completely normal. They even held a conversation about how to haggle with the vendors later that morning. If it were between apples and oranges, they’d choose apples. 

“Because they last longer,” Fay had reasoned.

“If we’re lucky enough to have a choice, I won’t fight you on it.” Jongdae heard Minseok laugh.

“Good,” Fay answered quickly, her tone of voice raising in pitch. Like she was smiling. “Because it’s a fight you’d surely lose.” 

“You want to put your money where your mouth is?”

“My mouth—”

Jongdae tuned out at that point, humming inside of his head so loudly he was sure he’d be outwardly deaf by now. He wasn’t. He wasn’t in the face of their obvious flirting — no matter how loud he sung. Fay was talking about and her lips and her tongue. Her tongue that had swept across Minseok’s upper lip the moment they pulled away.

Pink. It looked soft. For three hours, Jongdae just lied there, wondering when he shouldn’t have. He was frustrated in more ways than one. And, as a result, he couldn’t help but talk about it. 

“So are we going to pretend this morning never happened, or are you eloping with our mysterious Savior some time in the future?”

“She’s not as mysterious as you think,” Minseok answered, watching her strike a deal with the meat merchant. The street was crowded and yet still his eyes saw through all the shades and hues of gray. There was a mysterious smile on Minseok's face as he said, “And if you don’t want to be put into embarrassing situations, you should learn how to knock.”

“Because hearing you two answer my polite gesture wouldn’t be awkward in the least,” Jongdae jeered, arms crossed stiffly against his chest.

“You’re right. It would've been awkward. More so, because I wouldn’t have stopped even if you had.”

Jongdae stared, dumbfounded. Literally struck dumb. Struck down. Downtrodden. All that and more adjectives he’d remembered he’d learned through his many years of schooling. 

How many had Minseok endured? Minseok, who was like himself and yet not at all. Minseok, who claimed he followed them from the slums for the sake of "getting the hell out of this place." Minseok, the also “not boyfriend” who worked faster than Jongdae could have imagined. Minseok was flighty and passionate by default.

“She’s a flower among weeds.” He admired her through the cracked windowpane. “And she hides it well.” But why did she need to hide it at all?

“Still,” Jongdae chanted. Lost in his thoughts. Lost in more ways than he could ever imagine.

“Still, why?” Minseok completed his trailed off sentence. “Why so quickly? Why her? Just why?” He answered Jongdae's unspoken question, “Strays like ourselves don’t have the luxury of waiting for something good to happen to us.” 

A hand on his neck, he recited the following as though someone had drilled it into him. As though someone had forced him to memorize and live by it. As though he didn’t know what it really meant quite yet.

“We have to make it happen. With our own strength.”

Jongdae shifted his glance towards the clock tower peering down at them. Fay told him it housed the elevator that transported people and goods from the Underground’s cities to the Haven above. Everything and everyone around him was living and thriving unbeknownst to him until a handful of days ago.

Jongdae asked, “What’re you going to do now?”

“We’ve made plans.” 

By “we,” Jongdae assumed Minseok meant both himself and Fay. The very Savior who had to shoot him before she’d lift a finger to help was bending under the slightest show of affection. Then again, what he walked in on didn’t seem slight at all. Gaining her trust didn’t seem slight at all.