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Nepenthe
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Yixing and I first met in the spring of fifth grade.

I had recently moved from Guangdong to Kangnam after my mother was reassigned to a higher position in another country, requiring the whole family to move. So, I packed up my things, said goodbye to my best friend Luhan (or Hannie-ge, as I always called him), and embarked on a journey to the whole new world that was South Korea.

On my first day of school at Apgujeong Elementary, I had arrived half an hour late because I was too busy fighting against my parents who were trying to yank me out the front door (I grappled the door frame as if I was hanging off a cliff). I think that they probably thought I was just being a rebellious pain, but I didn't want to admit that I was scared of moving from the home I had grown up in; scared of leaving my happy life in Guangzhou behind. After they successfully managed to pry my fingers off the door, they drove me straight to the tall, white-brick school and sent me off with kisses on the forehead. I smiled until they left.

I stumbled into the classroom that the curt secretary had written on a post-it note, 409, and poked my head in. Thankfully, my teacher seemed nice enough.She greeted me with an understanding smile and held my cold fingertips, leading me to the front of the pastel blue and yellow painted classroom.

"Class, quiet down please! We have a new friend here joining us today from China, exciting right?" She squeezed my small hand before letting it go. "Dear, why don't you introduce yourself?"

"No, I'm good," I said before summoning the earth gods to swallow me up and spit me back out in Guangzhou. Or at least, that's what I wish I did. Instead, I awkwardly fisted the cloth of my neon skirt and felt my tongue tying itself into knots. The class started snickering and whispering at my stiff silence. 

"Teacher, maybe she can't speak Korean!"

"Yeah! She probably didn't even understand what you said just now!"

"Eh? How can someone come to Korea and not know Korean?"

"Maybe she's just dumb!"

I made a mental note of the voice of that last kid, and then another note to visit the library for books on how to insult people in Korean.

Whipping my head up suddenly, the whole class seemed amused, as if they were watching a circus show. "I'm Su Leeyi-, Yi Linsu- no, I-I'm Lee Suyin!" I finally managed to say with an undignified shout. 

Nice one, Suyin. Way to mess up your name on the first day of school. You're gonna be the most popular kid on the playground, I thought bitingly as I felt the heat of embarrassment creeping up my cheekbones. Red as a firetruck, I stood there stunned while the class broke out into raucous laughter. The teacher (unsuccessfully) beckoned the students be quiet, and guided me to my new seat. 

I sat down in the mustard yellow painted chair, and my desk partner not-so-subtly shifted her chair to the furthers right possible, as if I had Ebola and was looking for a place on her face to cough on.  

The hours didn't seem to pass quickly enough. If the old adage held true - time flies by when you're having fun - then I suppose the opposite was just as accurate. It felt like the hands of the clock hadn't budged in years, and I was having a horrid time. In the span of three subject classes, my desk mate brushed all her eraser shavings onto my side of the desk, the boys in the back of the room pelted my long braids with spitballs, and the teacher caught me off guard with some crazy math question.

When the bell rung, signaling that it was time for lunch, I knew my battle was only half done. Lunch time was crucial- it showed who was cool and who wasn't, and without much adult supervision, being un-cool meant big trouble. In Guangzhou, I never had to worry about my social status. Hannie-ge was the most popular boy in school, and being his best friend meant instant immunity. But here, I was a defenseless guppy in an ocean of sharks.

I went to my cubby, the smallest one all the way at the bottom of the shelf, and pulled out a small pink nylon lunch bag. Trying my best not to draw any attention to myself, I slunk out of the classroom and ventured into the wide playground, searching for an unoccupied spot far from the general public. A shady spot under a thick maple tree catches my attention, and I move to sit against the trunk.

My peace didn't last long. Footsteps approached me and multiple shadows fell over me.

"Hey you, Chinese girl. Whatcha got there, huh?" One of them taunted, and I recognized him as the kid who called me dumb. 

I had half a mind to just smash my lunch into his stupid face, but decided against it. I kept my mouth shut since I was no good at arguing in Korean. 

"Don't ignore me!" He roared, and brought up his foot to a swift kick. My lunch soared across the field like a football, and the rice and meat inside scattered around in its flight. 

Well, that didn't take long. 

I pursed my lips; as my dad had always told me, "It's better to not give them anything to get angry about". However, his sagely advice proved ineffective. The girl standing to my left knelt down and took up a fistful of my braid, yanking on it. 

"Yah, don't you have any manners? Look at people when they're talking to you!" Her voice was shrill and intimidating with her half-scream at me. 

"Just leave me alone," I managed to mutter, keeping my gaze on the grass beneath my legs. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

"What did you just say to me?!" He seethed at me, and I soon realized that he was the type of person to take everything super seriously. 

I immediately regretted my words. Those were things I used to say with lots of confidence back home, but that was when I had Hannie-ge to protect me from my unwise, not well thought out comebacks. Who was going to shield me now? 

I could feel what was coming next. His fist was definitely pulled back, ready to sock me right in the face when- 

"Ow! What are you doing?!" My impending attacker screeched, and I looked up to see him back the ground. Another boy stood in front of him, and I assumed that he was my savior. 

"No, what are YOU doing?! Bullying the new kid?! You're not supposed to hit girls!" He practically blew my harasser away with the sheer volume and intensity of his voice. 

The bully on the ground started visibly tearing up, and crawled away till he could stand up and run. "Teacher! Teacher! Yixing pushed me!", he bawled like a baby while running back to the school. The other girl, equally as frightened by Yixing's outburst, followed him back to snitch to the teacher.

"Hi there. Are you okay? Can you stand?" He extended a hand to me, which I hesitantly accepted. 

I dusted off my neon skirt and glanced at my forlorn lunch on the grass. He followed my line of sight and immediately looked apologetic. 

"Sorry about that. I can share my lunch with you, if you want. I hope you like bacon egg and cheese sandwiches", he offered kindly. 

"I'm in your class, actually. Teacher said you're Chinese, which is really cool because I'm Chinese too!" He continued amiably.

I perked up at the news, and looked at him with eager eyes. "Really?! Where are you from?" Mandarin spilled out of my mouth like bullets. It was reassuring to finally find one person who I could talk to.

"Changsha," he responded, and I nodded, referring to my mental map of China. "And you?"

"Guangzhou," I answered, and then remembered to add something else. "I'm Lee Suyin." 

"Well then, Suyin," he said and outstretched his hand for a real handshake. What a strange kid. 

"My name is Zhang Yixing, and from today onwards, I promise to protect you."

At the time, I didn't put much thought into Yixing's dutiful pledge. Long lessons and lectures from my dad taught me that people promise things all the time, but don't really mean them. However, I couldn't help but indulge just a little in Yixing's enticing words. Something about him made me feel safe and protected, like I belonged somewhere.

We spent basically all of our time together. In the morning, he would be waiting at the school bus stop for me where we would sit together and read books. During lunchtime, we ate together and exchanged lunch boxes. After school, we'd visit each other's homes in rotation and hang out for hours on end. Our families even went on overseas vacations together. 

In short, we were inseparable. 

So I found it strange when Yixing didn't come to school one day, some random day in the autumn of seventh grade. There was no call beforehand, and no call after school. When I rang the doorbell a thousand times, nobody came to the door. 

Things went on like this for three weeks. I would leave notes on the front door that would go unread. No matter how many rocks I tossed at his bedroom window, he never came to open it. Nobody at school had seen or heard from Zhang Yixing since the first day he and his family went missing. It was like my best friend had disappeared into thin air. 

I don't remember exactly when things started to change. Maybe it was days, weeks, months after Yixing's initial disappearance. But I do remember the exact moment when my whole world came crashing down. 

It was a perfectly sunny Saturday, spent lonely in my room because, well, there was no Yixing to enjoy it with. It was 3:15 PM, 70 degrees Fahrenheit outside. I was sitting in the middle of my bed, watching music videos on my dad's laptop. 

A loud siren cut through the serenity. I jumped in surprise, hearing a voice over a loudspeaker or microphone of some sort: 

"All civilians please exit your houses and line up on the sidewalk. The new world order begins today."

I didn't know what it meant. I immediately looked out the window, and was petrified by the view below. Hundreds of people in strange metal armor holding weapons lined the streets, marching in slow procession. They surrounded monstrous tanks, that shook the ground under it as it progressed through the street. It was like a scene out of a movie.

A movie that didn't end well.

My neighbors began filing out of their houses, confused and irritated by the scene. 

"What is this, some military movie? Get out of the street! You're disrupting the whole neighborhood!" Mr. Park from across the street berated the soldiers, and others joined in. When the soldiers refused to leave, they chose to get physical - Mr. Park threw a well-angled punch at the solider, and promptly had his arm blown off. 

He screamed bloody murder. I felt my heart drop like an elevator with the ropes cut. I watched at twelve years old, as my neighbor's flesh and blood flew in a twenty foot radius, landing on the other horrified neighbors who watched the scene in absolute shock and fright. 

Mr. Park didn't stop shrieking, "My arm! What did you do to my arm?! Give it back!" He wailed and cried and howled like a dying animal. 

The soldier who had destroyed his arm held up some sort of gun to Mr. Park's head. There was a pregnant pause before the weapon glowed and cracked a cyan blue, and like his arm, Mr. Park's head was gone. 

Complete chaos ensued. I fell back from the window, holding a hand to my face to discover that rivulets of tears were streaming down my cheeks. What just happened? Did I really just watch someone... get killed? 

I could not find my voice. I opened my mouth in a desparate attempt at a whimper, a cry, anything at all, but fell short. The sound of the front door being broken open stunned me to my spot. My parents dashed up the stairs as fast as they could and my dad scooped me up in his arms. They were both wearing backpacks filled with stuff, as if they had already predicted something bad was going to happen. 

The balcony ladder steps in my room led to the secluded back of the house. My parents were sprinting like they were running a marathon, and my mom opened up the concealed hole in the fence that I thought I had hid well to allow my dad and I to duck through first. We escaped to a dingy looking garage. 

My dad put me down.

"Mama... baba.." I finally was able to choke something out. 

My mom took my hands and knelt down in front of me. I noticed the panic in her eyes. 

"Listen, Suyin. Something very bad is happening, and we need to go now," she explained hurriedly.

Dad pulled up in an black Jeep, and my mom quickly pulled me into the car. All the windows and doors were locked, the glass windows tinted. We spend out into the closed off alleyway and into the back road that lead out of the neighborhood. 

I glanced back at the trunk, where there were boxes and luggage cases filled with supplies. 

"Mama, are we going somewhere?" My teeth chattered through every syllable. 

"Yes sweetie. Please, be quiet for now, okay? Lay down and go to sleep, we'll be there soon." 

I heeded her words and laid on the small pillow that my dad always kept in the Toyota we usually drove, since I tended to fall asleep easily on long rides. But I just couldn't will myself to sleep, and instead watched through the window as we drove for hours and hours, miles and miles, until it was finally nightfall. 

"Mama, baba, where's Yixing?", I asked. 

"If they made it out, he and his parents will be where we're going," my dad replied in a low tone. 

If? 

I didn't want to ask any more questions. I wasn't ready to hear any answers. 

I rolled over and closed my eyes and held my hands over my ears, but I could still hear the bang! of the strange gun, and the sound of Mr. Park's screaming.

"Baba," my voice was reticent. I had been watching my dad sitting in the dark living room for hours. He sat totally still, as if he was frozen in time, frozen in the past. 

He didn't acknowledge me. I bit down on my lower lip, feeling at a loss for what to do. 

Suddenly, he broke the silence. 

"Suyin-ah," he said, addressing me in Cantonese. "Baba has taught you many things, right? Baba has always taught you to think before you speak, think before you act." 

His utterance was laced with an nearly inaudibly shaking, the kind of shiver when one felt harrowing cold. 

I my dry lips. "Yeah, baba. Why?"

"Baba has to teach you one last thing." He stood up and knelt before me, staring me with the same dark brown irises that I had inherited. 

My dad spoke very carefully. "Nothing good ever comes from revenge." 

I didn't have a chance to comment. He abruptly stood up and left the room. From the living room, I could hear two things: the sound of a gun being loaded up, and my father's quiet voice saying, 

"Bye, Suyin."

When my mom was on a surveillance mission with some of the others, it was a late Wednesday afternoon. The group left as eight and returned as four - it was painfully obvious what had happened. They were captured and executed on the spot by mechatroopers, those men who came to my neighborhood one fateful day and blew the head right off of Mr. Park. 

My dad was dreadfully worried. He fussed over my mom for three hours before she could convince him that she was fine and got off scot-free. However, in his thorough check-up on her well being, both of them missed the tiny injection spot on the back of my mom's neck. 

The Thursday morning after, I was awoken by the sound of breaking glass, heavy thumping, and haunting sobs. 

I scrambled to my feet and tracked the noises to the source, one of the big dens. 

My mother was a picture of madness. Her face was contorted almost as if she were possessed, and switched between high pitched shouting, disturbed weeping, and animalistic, incoherent grunts and moans. She tore through the room, picking up anything she could and tossing it hard, effectively destroying everything in sight. 

I fell back in uncertain frailty, watching discord unfold before my very eyes. My dad was in a state of utter dismay, trying to catch her before she could do any more damage. He managed to encircle his arms around her and brought her down to the floor under his weight. She kicked and floundered and hollered, but he didn't budge. 

"This isn't you, snap out of it!" He kept repeating. For the first time in my life, I think my dad was scared. 

Nobody had known what happened to my mom, so we kept at trying to contain her. My dad and others would take turns guarding her as she wrestled wildly against the straight jacket. I was never allowed to have a shift, since I think my dad knew that my mom would have never wanted me to see her like that. Yixing would hold me tightly, letting me cry like a child into his shirt while he rocked me back and forth.

A week later, my mom died. 

I was anxious and worried, had spend my time pacing outside of the den that she was confined to. During night hours, she was normally tame and quiet, if not sleeping. 

At the crack of dawn, while Yixing was still asleep, I slowly turned the knob and entered the room. There was an unidentifiable feeling that hung in the air, and I eyed my mother's figure laying in the middle of the floor.

I approached her cautiously. 

"Mama?" 

I took another step, and held out a trembling hand. 

"Mama?" 

I mustered up as much courage as I could to roll her over on her back and immediately retreated backwards. I recognized the empty look in her irises, her once chocolate brown colored eyes that were now a thin hazy gray. 

"Mama," I mouthed, alarm spreading through my veins. 

"Suyin? Suyin?!" I heard Yixing calling my name, while alerted my dad.

"Where's Suyin?!" My dad's voice was interrogating the guards that were outside of the door, about to start their shift. "Don't tell me you nitwits let her in!" 

The door swung open with such a force that the knob dented the flimsy wall. My father froze like a statue at the sight of my mother's dead body. 

Yixing rushed into the room and hoisted me up by the arms, then swept his arm under my legs to carry me out. I allowed him to take me away, while I watched my father cry for the first time in my life. 

Today marks the second week since my dad has left. 

I know he will not return.

Things weren't supposed to be like this. 

It was another day in the middle of November. I had pancakes for breakfast, I watched a bunch of old romantic comedy TV dramas with the younger kids, and Yixing was getting ready to join the infantry. 

He was putting on his shoes when I interjected, and stood in front of the door defiantly. He blinked, and tried to get me to move aside, but I refused to do so. 

"Is there something wrong, Suyin-ah?" Yixing questioned, looking truly clueless. 

I huffed at his lack of coherence. "Yes! You're about to walk into your coffin, that's whats wrong!" 

His lips formed an "o" at my response, finally getting what I was so worked up about. 

"We already talked about this, Suyin. We made a plan. We went over the plan a trillion times," he reasoned with me, rubbing my tense shoulders with his hands. 

I tried to stay put, but it was hard to keep stiff under his electric touch. "Well, let's go over it a trillion more times! Until you're convinced otherwise." 

To be honest, I had no real intentions of keeping Yixing back. I knew that letting him and a few of the others invade the infantry would be an excellent tactic, since we had already formed a way for them to resist treatments and testing, while still giving off the impression that they were fully under loyalty. Having him there would increase our eyes and intelligence greatly. It was a job I myself was incapable of doing, since the infantry did not accept women.

But the mere thought of losing him drove me mad. I had already lost every member of my family, and Yixing was all I had left. I was all he had left. 

"Angel," he said, and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "I'll see you later, okay?" 

I reluctantly stepped aisde, and he pressed a loving kiss to my forehead.

Yixing knew since we were young, that I hated goodbyes. Goodbyes were permanent; goodbyes meant forever. I had always used "see you later", instead. Even when I left for summer camp for a month, in the sixth grade, my last words to him were: "see you later". The last time I had heard someone say "goodbye", was when my dad left to take revenge for my mother's passing. 

I watched as the love of my life went to go risk his life for my sake, for the sake of our future. 

"Stop, vagrant! Or you will be neutralized!" 

The voice yelling after me is gruff and distorted, spoken through the mask that every mechatrooper of the infantry wears. There is no human quality to the sound, just the frigid rasp of a robot. 

I can hear the soles of their heavy boots chasing me. I don't comply, and I race through the dark, murky streets, dodging into alleyways and climbing up a rusty ladder. Unfortunately for me, they're terribly quick and equipped much better than I, with advanced armory systems built into their bodies - a system of metal and tubes created years ago in order to force human evolution back into action. 

I stumble ungracefully onto a rooftop of someone's abandoned home, and peer over the edge to check their location. A full platoon of mechatroopers skid to a stop at the dead end, and I hold my breath as they scan the area with their tracking devices. The devices come out negative, and they turn back to leave, presumably to Sector 44, where they were originally stationed. 

The muscles in my legs feel absolutely torn, the ligaments in my arms feel absolutely shredded. I can feel my heartbeat thudding all the way up in my throat, but I can't stop moving. Every second I spend here will only increase my risk of getting caught. So I begin running, again, and leaping between rooftops. My old combat boots are quiet but it doesn't count for much here; none of the houses are occupied. Everyone who had once lived in them, were either assimilated into the "new world order", executed, or had fallen victim to Judgment. 

Judgment is the name of the virus that the leaders of the "new world order" created, a virus specially engineered for a high infection rate and near absolute mortality rate. The symptoms and effects are devastating, something only non-humans could ever create - it is an illness that attacks the body and mind, spiraling the recipient into a plethora of nightmares: depression, extreme paranoia, schizophrenia, and hallucinations, until one lives, breathes, and speaks darkness. At the same time, organ tissue begins to decay, eaten away by the virus until there's nothing left on the inside. 

In one week, Judgment will kill you, just like how it killed my mother.

I practically fly down the Sectors, passing the 50s and 60s. Once I hit Sector 71, I come to a complete halt. I'm on top of a tall building, an old forsaken inn. I hang my feet over the edge and kick in a flimsy glass window, and swing myself in with as much strength I can muster. 

Miraculously, I land on my feet. There's nothing much around me but a forsaken guest room. It's decrepit as expected- the paint is peeling off the walls, water stains the sheetrock and the wooden floorboards creak painfully loud. None of the electricity works but the sink in the bathroom still has some use left in it. I let the brown water run until there water becomes reasonably clear, and splash my grimy, mottled face a few times. 

The face in the mirror is one that I can barely recognize. She looks like she had been through hurricanes and earthquakes and wars to get to the point where she is now. Her dark brown hair is dirty and messy, sticking out of its now loose bun in an unflattering matter. Patches of deep red and purple are horribly noticeable against her pale porcelain skin; they decorate the majority of her left cheekbone, and there are a few nasty cuts and scrapes lining her eyebrows and forehead. The right side of her jaw is visibly swollen. 

"But your eyes, they're as resplendent as the billions of stars in the night sky."

My heart skips a metaphorical beat. That voice, I can recognize it anywhere, I can feel its familiar sound waves pierce the air and reach all the way across the room to fry the ends of my nerves. It's warm and soothing and it sounds like azure ocean waves gently crashing on a fine white sand beach; like the forest symphony of the bubbling creek, the wind rustling through the trees, the crackling camp fire, and hushed breathing in a lover's chest under your ear.

I look at the mirror to see him. There he is, standing in the doorway, gazing right back at my reflection with eyes that speak a million words. His Adams apple bobs up and down in a silent swallow, and he opens his mouth again: 

"A silhouette of elegance, a framework of pure splendor. You are a fragment of a dream." 

He takes off the deep navy hat that rested on his head, holding it by the short brim. He approaches me slowly, and I shudder in anticipation of his mere presence.

"Never will you be lost, for my heart leads me to you." 

I whirl around to face him, but he's a millisecond faster. His sturdy arms wrap around my slender waist in an enchanting embrace. I can feel the warmth of his hands when he cups the back of my head, and I stand on my toes to quickly meet his lips in a passionate, long-delayed kiss. My fingers find its way to his soft, dark hair and I drag my fingertips gently along his scalp. 

We part lips with an audible smooch. I lean my weight into his chest, eyes half lidded. I'm profoundly weak in his arms. My head falls into the crook of his neck - the place where I truly belong - and I breathe him in deeply. 

He's simply intoxicating. If serenity and safety had a scent, it would be the same as his - earthy cedar wood and sage, a dash of aromatic white thyme. There are hints of high, rugged and snowy cliffs, specks of a windswept ocean shore. I practically lose myself in him, his positively otherworldly grasp.

His husky voice brings me out of my dream world. "Do you remember where that's from?", he inquires, alluding to the elegiac monologue.

My lips pull up into a small smile. "Of course. Only Zhang Yixing would confess to someone with a poem," I reply pleasingly. 

"Not someone. Just you." 

The air between us is still but comfortable. Yixing's fingers intertwine with my smaller ones, and he leads me out of the washroom and back into the bedroom. He ruffles the pillows and blankets, ridding it of the lingering dust, and pulls back the duvet to climb in. I follow suit, and soon I am resting my tired head on his steady shoulder.

"Angel," he addresses me lovingly. "where have you been?"

I tangle our legs together, the usual ritual. "Sector 51," I respond. I can't but help notice the slight gruffness in my voice from not talking in days.

"Are you lying to me?" Yixing asks. It's in the form of a question but he and I already know that he can easily decipher any falsehood in my words.

"I was in Sector 44," I admit almost sheepishly. 

He pauses for a moment to look at me. "What? Why? I told you to stay away from there, it's one of the most dangerous areas right now. There are hundreds of infantry stationed there, you could've been captured in a moment!" 

Guilt rushes to me, but I don't forget the reason why I pursue danger in the first place. "There were intelligence reports that thery're setting up a new scientific camp there." I forgo the details, trying to evade a real answer.

"And you went there because you thought they'd have the cure there too." His answer is flat.

I wince. "Jagiya, I know it's risky but I have to-" 

He cuts me off abruptly. "Have to what? Put your life on the line based on the unlikely chances that there IS a cure there? Lee Suyin, don't throw yourself into the line of fire like that." His tone is a little harsh, and his gaze is burning holes through my eyes. 

I want to snap back at him, because he knows better than anyone how much finding a cure - the cure to Judgment - means to me; means to all of us. All one thousand of us, the Resistance, the only ones left of the old world before the "new world order" came to power. 

"I'm their leader, Yixing. I can't sit by idly and watch the world descend into chaos... once we're gone, it's all over," I say. "Mama and baba, I have to carry on their legacy...", I trail off almost inaudibly. Even speaking a few simple words in my native language breaks me apart, even though there's not a single day that passes where I don't think of home. 

Yixing is quiet, and there's an understanding that passes between us.

"Go to sleep, angel. I have off all weekend," he reassures me with placid words. 

I bury my head further into his chest, and succumb to slumber.

When I awaken, the space in bed next to mine is empty. 

Yixing is gone. 

I sit up in the spring mattress, rub my eyes, and check my pockets. I fish out an old Samsung Galaxy S4, the last phone I had bought since before the "new world order" began, and checked the time. 

9:48 AM

There was a text from Yixing, which I of course, read first. 

Good morning, angel. I'm sorry I'm not there to see your beautiful sleeping face. 

I snort. Typical words of a romantic. 

I've been called back in for an emergency in the Main Sector. May be related to the cure. See you later, I love you.

Silence falls over me like snow. I notice just how cold it gets in an abandoned inn, and pull on the fleece-lined hoodie stashed in my backpack. I bury my nose into the fabric for a second, since I had stole this from Yixing's closet. 

I climb back out of the inn window, and land on the roof once more to travel back to headquarters. 

At headquarters, I am greeted with deafening quiet. An ominous feeling looms in the air and dread wells up in my chest. I kick off my combat boots and set down the backpack, and begin looking for any signs of life. 

Find what I'm looking for in the communications room. Many of the guys are sitting at the computer screens, typing furiously. At the centrer table, sits my two subordinates. 

"Junmyeon, Yifan." I say as I take a seat at the head of the table. 

The two men stand up and bow respectfully before reseating themselves. 

"What happened?" I'm straightforward in my words. 

They exchange a knowing look, which fills me with more dreadful anticipation. I know in an instant that something terrible has happened, or is about to happen. 

"Suyin, while you were gone... while Yixing was gone..." Junmyeon begins but trails off in a clench of his teeth.

Yifan picks up his words. "Our forces have been discovered. They've been taken captive by the infantry and now, we've lost all contact with them." 

The news slams into me like a ton of bricks. My heart hits a wall and I can feel the ground shatter beneath me. 

"What?" My voice is muted, just the moving of lips. 

"And they've found out that Yixing... is the vice-leader of the Resistance," Junmyeon looks distressed, and holds his temples. 

The room is full of tension. Everyone is waiting on my response, on my reaction. They expect me to go on a full rampage, I know - to start screaming and cursing, to start throwing things at them. To call up arms to go and save Yixing. 

My answer surprises them. I say nothing. I get up, and walk out. 

I'm not going to follow in my father's footsteps.

Two months ago, I decided that I would wait for Yixing and the others' return. I waited with an exterior of cold hard aloofness, but on the inside, I was completely unsure of the situation. If I intervene at the wrong moment, I would be sentencing us all to death. If I stood by and did nothing, there was still a chance that Yixing could make it out alive, without me.

I bet my time and mental sanity on the second option. I increased surveillance and scouting, and I have been spending copious amounts of time in the armory

I turned the screwdriver once, twice, until it bounded the metal securely. The wires and iron plating shone wickedly under the focused surgical lights. Finished with another device, I set it aside and glanced at the collection of work I had gotten done in Yixing's absence. An array of advanced weaponry, including shields and explosives, laid quietly on the thick steel table, staring right back at me. 

There was a sudden ruckus in headquarters. I switched off the overhead lights and closed the door to the armory behind me. 

Then that earthy, comforting voice reached to me, called to me. 

My legs carried themselves. I speed down the hallways and nearly miss the turn into the living room, where Yixing is sitting on the couch. 

"Yixing," I breathe, and myself into his waiting arms. I tighten around him like a boa constrictor, unwilling to let go. 

I repeat his name once, twice, three times. It feels incredible on the tongue - two syllables on the palate, a smooth transition of sounds. It's like music to my ears. 

An unwelcome third part interrupts my thoughts. 

"Excuse me, boss, but Yixing is hurt.." Baekhyun warns me. 

I pull away to examine my love in detail, and I notice how my shirt is stained with his blood. He offers me a fragile smile before passing out on the leather sofa.

I watch intently as his fingers twitch, his eyelids flutter. For the first time in a week, Yixing opens his eyes. 

"Good morning," I croon softly, and run a hand through his hair.

His drowsy smile makes my heart sing. "I woke up to an angel," he said, and takes my hand in his. "How long was I out?" 

I struggle to say the simple words. "One week." 

Yixing nods and turns his head to take a look around. He doesn't notice my plight (I've gotten very good at hiding it) and I cringe inwardly at the words. 

If this was six years ago, you would be dead by now. 

The thought brings the sickest form of nausea to me, but I hold myself back for his sake. For the sake of our future.

When Chanyeol ran tests on Yixing, he was positive for the Judgment virus, the same virus that had already brought billions to their grave, my own mother included. When I read the results, I could barely feel. It was like time had stopped, as if I was frozen in a moment of true fear. I suspect, this is what my dad felt back then as well, six years ago. 

Thanks to the rapid advancement of our technology, we are able to slow and hinder the effects of the Judgment virus. It now takes a month for the virus to take over the body, and then another two weeks to kill.

"So what did you do, during the two months?", I inquire, a sincere smile resting on my features.

Yixing responds well to me. "You should have seen me, angel," he brags. "I was the coolest. They tried interrogating us and using torture, but I got us out of it in the end. I kept the secret safe", he said contently. 

I watch him smile and laugh, his handsome facial features light up like the city at night. I swear, his smile can cure the sick and his laughter can ends wars. 

I want to smile and laugh with him. 

But I can't.

"Here's the stuff you asked for, boss", Sehun delivers the manila folder to me and I open it up, scanning the contents briefly. 

On April 20th, 2641, scientists under the "new world order" system successfully reverse engineered the "Judgment Day Virus", creating a fully functional cure for the illness. After extensive human experimentation and testing, it has been determined that the cure has a 100% rate of survival. It is a viable option for treatment until the final stages of the organ decay. Currently, this cure is being held only in the Main Sector.

The name of this cure is "Nepenthe".

"Where are you going?" 

Yixing startles me. I jolt in my spot as I was slipping on my combat boots, and I zip up my parka before he can notice anything else. 

"Where do you think I'm going? To look for the cure, of course," I reply in a light matter-of-fact tone. 

He takes up my small hands in his, and meets my steady gaze. "Angel, we don't even know if there is a cure yet. Don't you think it's better to wait and see?" His words are perfectly logic and sound; the fault lies in me. I gave out direct orders for nobody to notify Yixing of his contraction of the virus, and for nobody to tell him about Nepenthe.

I never want to have to leave. Every second, every moment spent away from him truly hurts me. When we're together, tsunamis become gentle waves, hurricanes become light drizzle. I can feel our love fill up every single piece of me, and it gives me immeasurable, untold life. 

I stand on my toes, and we share an ethereal, heavenly kiss.

"Bye, Yixing. I love you." 

And I close the door.

I can see it right in front of me. The thick glass box surrounding it, the layers and layers of sensitive laser sensors don't phase me in the slightest. I switch on my full-body armored suit, the crimson red spreads through its energy channels. I feel a surge of power rise in me, and I extend one hand. I trip no sensors, no detectors can tell I'm there. The ten inch glass melts almost instantaneously under my palms. 

I reach out, caressing the single vile by my cooled fingertips, until it is out of its confines and in my obsession. 

Nepenthe, the gilded placard reads. 

My armored suit flashes an ominous black for a moment, and a stab of pain hits me. I keel over, clutching the cure in my hands, until the agony slowly subsides. The source of the armor's incredible ability and power is me - I effectively combined my body with that of the armor's mechanical aspects. I am essentially, the highest form of a mechatrooper, the thing I hate the most in this world. 

I place the vile gently into a small capsule, and detach it from the armor. It floats against an invisible force field that I had bound it to. 

The capsule shoots up into the sky, like a rocket, and disappears into the night, in order to reach Yixing. 

As I'm leaving the laboratory, I disarm the suit. I trip every single sensor I can, walking leisurely through the hallways. The lights flash red and a loud siren resounds through the building. The sound of mechatroopers racing through the floors draws nearer and I pick up the pace, hooking a wire to the glass ceiling that leads me to the roof. 

The Main Sector is in a state of entropy. 

I can see the tall building with the rotating light that flashes to signify emergency. A gust of wind blows and another siren pierces the air. I double over in another bout of excruciating pain; the armored suit will soon take all that's left of me. 

There's not much space between here and there, I tell myself, noting the short distance between the buildings. I outreach an arm and another wire takes me across to the main building, where I land on a thin ledge, as close to the top as I can get. There are mechatroopers and tanks below, scouring the sector for any signs of me. I can hear the airtroopers being dispatched. It won't be long until they find me.

In the time that Yixing was gone, I built the one thing that would be able to save us all from the hell on Earth that we are living in now. In the center of my chest is a button that can change everything. Once pressed, everything around me will be gone; destroyed, so that humanity can start anew. I have full faith in the Resistance and in Yixing, who can rebuild the Earth again.

When I think of Yixing, my whole world seems alright. Ever since the first day we met, I have always held onto his promise to protect me always. His touch and his words wash me over with unforgettable warmth, irreplaceable love. His smile is more precious than any jewel or gem; his laugh more lovely than even the billions of stars in the sky. Yixing is like a fragment of a dream.

"Never will you be lost, for my heart leads me to you." 

And I press the button.

It is 4:30 AM, and I have written this whole thing in one go (took me 6 hours)
I hope this makes sense, and that it qualifies for angst ;;
Thanks for reading <3