Lyon, 6:27.

His shoes click on the marble steps as he skips them up two at a time. Everything about him screams of ease and nonchalance, his hands in the pockets of his well-worn leather jacket and the cheap earbuds shoved in his ears. Which is good, he supposes, because right now he's feeling everything but calm. There's nervousness crawling under his skin, clawing at his insides and making his fingertips tingle in a way that's not quite right. As he reaches the top of the stairs and moves past the grand cathedral, Baekhyun feels truly and thoroughly sick.

Lyon is a nice city, he supposes. He didn't really have the time to check it out; it's been only a day since he crash-landed here, if the way the ink-black sky is slowly turning navy blue in preparation for the new day is any hint. It doesn't matter, though. He doesn't mean to stay here long.

Yixing.

There's sleepy humming on the other side of the connection to his Parallel; he must be waking up, or going to sleep, depending on where he is in the world. Baekhyun briskly saunters past closed restaurants and coffee shops that are just starting to open and hopes to god that nobody finds him suspicious. There's cold sweat gathering under the stolen jacket on his back.

Another call to his Parallel, more urgent this time. Yixing, please.

It feels like someone whipped him in the face when Yixing's mind springs into consciousness- Baekhyun staggers with it, the buzzing of quickly processed information (an image of a small studio apartment, probably Yixing's vision being broadcasted into his mind) making him falter in his steps and hold a hand to his head. Feverishly, he hopes he looks like a drunk with a hangover to bystanders and not some wacko.

Hyung, Baekhyun pleads weakly over the rushing of his Parallel's waking mind. Calm down. You’re hurting me.

There's a spark of disbelief and surprise at the sound of his voice, quickly overthrown by wave after wave of relief. Baekhyun, Yixing thinks, soft with awe. Baby boy.

Baekhyun smiles and resumes walking, passing the tourist-friendly front streets and entering a maze of narrow, stone-paved alleyways. Yixing always did have the tendency to be overly-affectionate when sleepy. He sends some fondness over his connection to Yixing, immediately getting some back.

It doesn't last long. The familiarity and joy of hearing each other are quickly overshadowed by worry on Yixing's end. Where are you? Are you okay? Are you hurt?

I’m alright, Baekhyun assures him. Fruit bats fly in the small alley above him; he smiles. I’m in France, I think. Lyon. You?

Yunnan, comes the immediate reply, colored in with a bit of happiness that Baekhyun reciprocates. It must be nice for Yixing to be in his home country after so long. Distantly, Baekhyun wishes he would've landed in Korea instead.

Maybe one of them did.

Obviously Yixing heard that thought, because he immediately latches onto it, a ripple of hope going through his consciousness and pushing into Baekhyun's, tinging his mind. Are any of them close to you? asks Yixing, tentative- afraid that maybe none of the others made it. That they're the only ones who survived.

The sky is turning purple. A wave of guilt passes through Baekhyun as he ducks into yet another alley and tightens his jacket around him. I haven’t checked yet, he supplies.I was too weak.

Thank god he has such an understanding Parallel. If he had Chanyeol, or Zitao, or even Wufan as a Parallel, he's sure he would've gotten the mental equivalent of a beating. Yixing, however, is sensitive, wrapping him in a soft layer of comfort, not just for his confession, but for the loss; thinking of Zitao and Wufan still hurts, even after all this time.

Luhan, Yixing adds miserably, piercing another ice pick through Baekhyun's already bleeding heart. He didn't mean to hurt him, of course, but mentioning any of their dead friends will always make Baekhyun numb. He doesn't think it'll ever stop. He stops dead in his tracks and just pants for a few seconds, the cold early morning air cutting his lungs, before sliding down a nearby wall until he's sitting with his knees pulled to his chest and his head resting in the cover of his arms. The darkness there feels familiar for all the wrong reasons.

Yixing's mind is ashamed, timid, offering an apology. We got out of there, he murmurs in reminder. They can’t hurt us anymore.

That sends a chill through Baekhyun; flashes of red-lined white walls, red nurses in white gowns, red blood on white skin. Running until his lungs burned. Chanyeol kissing his forehead and whispering, Run.

Yixing's mind flinches, ducking out of harm's way; Baekhyun's memories singe their path through both of their minds, but Yixing can shield himself from them. Baekhyun is helpless.

The lights in the alleyway flicker.

Baekhyun, Yixing tries, and Baekhyun imagines him approaching him with his hands raised good-naturedly and a careful smile tugging at his lips. Calm down. It’s all right.

It takes a few minutes, but he does, eventually, with the help of Yixing's endless supply of calm and comforting thoughts- mental images of Junmyeon’s smile, Chanyeol’s laughter, the lingering warmth of Kyungsoo’s rare hugs. The shaking stops, and even though Baekhyun's not aware of it, the lights in the alleyway have stopped flickering, too.

Thank you, he sends over to Yixing, exhausted as he leans back against the wall behind him.

Always.

They stay quiet for a while; Baekhyun imagines that Yixing wants to give him some time to mellow out and regain his composure, but Baekhyun himself is trying to remember what they were talking about before he lost control. He stares at the wall in front of him. It's painted a neutral shade of butter-yellow, the paint chipped and coming off at some places, stained at others. There's something strangely comforting about it.

Comfort, right. Yixing was asking if he could sense any of the others nearby. Slowly, drawing in a breath through his nose and closing his eyes, Baekhyun draws his senses in, packing them tight until they're all fused together with no air to breathe, and then he lets them free.

They scatter all over the planet, bouncing off of mountaintops and dipping into valleys, splashing in the ocean. Immediately there's the familiar ping of Junmyeon; he's close, close enough that Baekhyun knows for sure he's in France too. Baekhyun gets a mental image of an open field and an empty swimming pool. He's alive, then. That's a relief.

His senses bounce off of Jongin, Sehun, and Minseok as well, the first two off to the west of him, the elder to the east. Jongin's in London, and he's scared and confused. Sehun's in Edinburgh, struggling to get used to the feeling of being alone. Minseok, in Berlin, well-established already.

He can't gather any more than this; everyone else are too far away for his senses to detect. Baekhyun firmly refuses to acknowledge the other option.

Yixing saw all of it as well, listening in through the connection. He's giddy with relief when Baekhyun pulls his senses back. They’re alive.

Baekhyun allows himself a small smile. Yes. At least we have them.

That seems to alert something within his Parallel; a flash of thought passes through their connection. Yixing is pleased, happy even, when he shares his good news. Jongdae’s alive, too.

Baekhyun's eyes widen. His heart does somersaults in his chest.

I felt him in Kazakhstan before I passed out, but he’s moved beyond my senses can reach since I’ve regained consciousness, Yixing finishes, but Baekhyun barely registers it through the explosion of pure joy and relief clouding his mind. Jongdae is alive. His Jongdae. His magnificent, brave, impossibly smart Jongdae.

Of course he is, Baekhyun mumbles, more to himself than anything. Of ing course Jongdae's alive. There's no way he'd let himself die just when they were all so close to freedom. He'd dreamt about it, wanted it for so long, and now when he finally had the chance to get it, he wouldn't give it up for anything. Most importantly, a small voice whispers in the back of Baekhyun's head, making him blush, he wouldn't leave Baekhyun alone.

That’s gross, Yixing chirps, his voice holding no real bite to it. Baekhyun doesn't care. Yixing, as his Parallel, has had to endure hours upon endless hours of Baekhyun's sappy thoughts about their resident lightning bender, and he's become sadly accustomed to it. Kyungsoo, Jongdae's Parallel, has sullenly attested to withstanding the same treatment from Jongdae.

I can’t believe he’s okay, Baekhyun whispers, still drunk on happiness. He's still smiling like an idiot when Yixing's previous words register, making his smile turn into a frown. Wait, he’s moved?

Yixing's mind turns sour. Yeah. I have no idea where. He could be anywhere in the world right now.

The back of Baekhyun's head thunks against the wall as he throws it back, looking up at the rapidly brightening sky and trying to fight the overwhelming desperation that washes over him. He could be anywhere, he echos emptily.

Yixing remains silent.

------

Something goes terribly wrong the very next night.

Baekhyun has taken to being a night owl, sleeping while the sun is in the sky and waking up just as it sinks beyond the horizon. He does it mainly because of jetlag- Korea’s far away from France and time zones are a - but also because Yixing’s awake at those hours, and it’s easier to be inside his own mind when he’s not alone in there. As long as Yixing’s awake and functioning, their connection as Parallels keeps Baekhyun company.

He leaves the homeless shelter he’s staying in sometimes around midnight and takes to the streets with no known destination. He’s just trying to work out a plan, really, and thinking is easier while he’s moving.

Kyungsoo would be able to tell us where everyone else is, but he’s far beyond my reach, Yixing muses as Baekhyun walks past crowded streets. It seems curious to him that so many people would be out and about at this hour of the night, but then again, he did spend the few last years of his life locked up in a facility deep in the secluded forests of South Korea, so he doesn’t have a clue as to how people usually live.
 

Yeah, he agrees absentmindedly, feeling Yixing’s disapprovement of his train of thought. I can’t feel him either. You think he’s in America?

Yixing hums. Could be. Chanyeol, too.

Baekhyun ducks into a quieter street and lets out a thankful breath at the decrease in the number of people around him. He can’t help but feeling like a freak, walking around alone. Less people means less minds inspecting and judging him.

Did Jongdae enter your perception zone again? he asks Yixing, hopeful. He doesn’t even try to hide the wave of disappointment when Yixing pushes apologetic negativity towards him. Dammit, he mumbles. He could’ve helped us contact Kyungsoo.

You know that’s not why you want to find him, Yixing promptly snaps. Baekhyun turns left and shoves his hands in his pockets, head bowed.

No, it’s not.

Helpless, Baekhyun compacts his senses in preparation for the search he’s about to conduct. He can feel them coiling inside him, like a white-hot iron ball in his chest, waiting to be released. He holds them tight, relishes in the pain that means he’s alive, and then lets them go.

The lights in the street all go out at once.

In the sudden confusion that spreads around, no one notices the small Korean man clutching his head in pain, or the small cry he lets out. Baekhyun is hurting, he’s burning, his senses going haywire as they lash out at every light source within a mile’s radius, blowing them all out. They spread out unbeckoned, unchecked, and Baekhyun distantly feels himself collapse against a nearby wall as his power out more and more light, leaving entire neighborhoods in darkness.

There’s a buzzing in his head that leaves him numb to the screaming and the sound of running feet all around him; it feels like there’s barbed wire in his lungs every time he takes a breath, pressing against his ribcage and threatening to break through his skin. He tries to rein in his power and fails, miserably. It’s like he can’t even control it anymore- it spreads everywhere, snakes into households and businesses, eating, feasting.

Within a minute, the entire city of Lyon goes dark.

His panting sounds hollow against the ringing in Baekhyun’s ears; he’s curled up into himself, head shielded in the tight circle of his arms. At least like this he can’t see what’s going around him, can’t witness the havoc he’s wreaked. What the is wrong with him? What did he just do?

“Baekhyun.”

That voice, Baekhyun thinks numbly to no one in particular; Yixing’s gone, shoved out of his head since the first burst of his power. I know that voice.

Slowly, Baekhyun lifts his head.

Jongdae smiles at him, gentle in the now-visible moonlight and in the way his eyes trace Baekhyun’s face. He’s crouched in front of him, hands placed carefully on Baekhyun’s knees, radiating warmth that’s so delicious and familiar that Baekhyun can’t deny that it’s actually there, that Jongdae’s there. He raises a shaky hand to cup Jongdae’s face, whimpering at how soft his skin feels under his fingertips. Jongdae leans into his touch, eyes never leaving Baekhyun’s face.

“Jongdae,” Baekhyun breathes, eyes wide with disbelief. “My Jongdae.”

The smile he gets at the endearment could light the entire city back up; in fact, Jongdae probably could, what with his power being electricity and whatnot. “Hey,” he whispers back, covering the hand on his face with one of his own. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere, babe.”

Baekhyun lets out a sob he’d later deny and springs forward to wrap his arms around Jongdae’s neck, effectively knocking the lightning bender backwards so his hits the pavement. The arms that wrap around him feel so safe and warm and so much like home that Baekhyun melts right into them, burying his face against Jongdae’s neck, sniffling back tears. Jongdae’s his back and hair, and Baekhyun shivers. “I was worried out of my mind.”

Jongdae lets out a watery laugh. “I know. That’s why I had to get to you as soon as possible.”

That switches something on in Baekhyun’s head. He pulls back just enough to look at the other, confusion making him furrow his brow. “How did you get here? How did you even know where I am?” he asks accusingly, one of his hands sinking into the softness of Jongdae’s jet black hair. He could never resist it in the first place.

The lightning bender purrs at the touch, and the way the corners of his lips turn up make him look so much like a cat that Baekhyun’s brain short-circuits for a second.

“Kyungsoo told me where you are,” Jongdae says, lifting one hand to tap at his temple smartly. “One of the benefits of having a powerful earthbender as your Parallel. After that I, uh,” he pauses, chewing on his lower lip. “I used the magnetic fields to fly over here.”

Baekhyun’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, as well as his admiration for Jongdae. “I didn’t know you could do that,” he marvels, cupping both of Jongdae’s cheeks and pressing a kiss to his forehead. The other blushes and shrugs.

“You’re amazing,” Baekhyun tells him seriously, looking into the lightning bender’s eyes to let him know he means every single word. Jongdae’s gaze softens; he drags Baekhyun down by the back of his head until their foreheads are touching, and he looks at him like he’s the most important thing in the world.

When their lips seal together, the entire city lights up.