I was going to post this chapter on Monday, but then… I really don’t want to make a statement about what happened, but I thought it wasn’t prudent to post anything for a while.

I’ve had an internal debate on whether or not I should continue writing. I think the only way I can continue is to convince myself that these characters do not represent the idols I admire, and I’m just using their image to create a story that, fortunately, is completely different from their real lives. I want to continue writing my story, but I need to know if you guys want to keep reading it too.

I want to remind you guys that this story is tagged as angst and has, since Exo Trials, topics concerning life and death. To those who are deeply mourning Jonghyun’s passing, Yifan’s part in this chapter has a message that may make you sad, but hopefully it gives you a new perspective as well.

The passing of someone so dearly loved makes you reevaluate life. It reminds you of how terrifyingly fragile life is, but at the same time it teaches you to value and appreciate everything around you.

Time is relative, and Jonghyun has lived a lifetime. He’s given us so much love and so much to cherish. He did well, he always did well.

-B.

-March 21st, 2015. Paris 14:30.

The morning had been rather interesting.

Baekhyun had personally fed them breakfast and then he had forced them to go through a workout--training session to evaluate how good their physical condition and fighting skills were.

Zitao had kept up a rigorous routine while living in the Buddhist Monastery, working out every day before the morning mantra, then practicing wushu after breakfast. Then, after lunch he’d have his personal meditation sessions, a little free time before the evening mantra and then a nice meal before heading to bed. So his condition was impeccable, beating Baekhyun’s sculpted in every challenge the latter proposed.

On the other hand, Jongin hadn't trained in anything other than ballet. His body had grown lean and light, making it easy to knock him down with a mere front kick. Jongin was quite agile and resilient though, and wouldn’t quit no matter how many times they knocked him down.

Despite his continuous training, it had felt strange for Zitao to practice fighting again. Sparring against Jongin and Baekhyun had brought back memories of their time in the underground facility, reminding him of all the practicing they had gone through to prepare for the group trials against the boggers. It had been nearly three years where the mention of a bogger came only in the form of a memory -or nightmare- but venturing to the past meant they would have to come across those monsters again.

He would have to fight against the demons that kept him awake at night. Again.

After lunch with Mama, Zitao and Jongin had settled in Mama’s office while Baekhyun decided to take a nap. Jongin had helped with moving Mama’s desk so they could both sit on it while looking at the back wall; an assortment of documents, pictures and notes were taped on it, all carefully connected with black strings.

Observing the pictures with more attention now, Zitao could tell that the vast majority were images of the outer dome. Photos of the fake town, of the Kim Estate, of the crossroad where they fought their final battle, near the cistern -even images of the RV they used to flee. There were also a few pictures of the underground facility, of Mama’s old office and her laboratory in the subterranean level. There were just a couple of images he didn't recognize, but they looked awfully similar to this underground hideout they were in.

Mama stood up from her chair and walked to stand before them, leaning against the wall. She didn’t speak while she stared at them with curiosity. Zitao felt as if she was trying to read him, examining him with her assertive eyes. He didn’t like it.

“What?” he asked, harsher than intended.

“Do you understand why you both are needed to time travel?” she asked instead.

“What do you mean why? It already happened that way, it’s not like we can change it,” Zitao said brazenly.

Mama shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. I’m asking if you understand why both of you are needed to time travel,” she repeated.

Zitao remained quiet this time and looked at Jongin who mirrored his confusion. Zitao assumed that somehow he was going to bend space-time with enough energy to create the loop and take them to the past. He had been practicing all these years to reach a higher state of consciousness to be able to achieve such feat. As for Jongin, well, Zitao just assumed his teleportation ability would become quite useful while being in the past.

“Zitao, do you really believe you can time travel on your own?” Mama asked calmly as she played with the pendant of her necklace.

“I, I thought,” Zitao stammered confused. “I can’t?”

Mama shook her head. “Think about the way you manipulate time. You can’t separate time from space, for you affect both time and space as a single dimension, as a continuum.”

Zitao frowned as he pondered over her words. He could slow down time to a full stop, which in consequence would make the whole world move slowly or freeze in time. He could turn back time to a specific moment, but whenever he did, he would find himself returning to the same place he was when that moment originally. Space was dependent of time.

“Your body is unaffected by your time manipulation in some way, but it’s not independent of the time-space continuum,” Mama continued explaining. “You alter time for those around you, but not for yourself. Time-space retains its continuity for you, because your ability alters the metaphysical dimension -not your body, not the physical.”

Zitao felt his eyes double in size as he realized something so damn obvious about himself.

His time manipulation altered space-time as a whole, as this continuus dimension Mama mentioned, which meant his body changed as it was stuck in the physical dimension of space. Whenever he turned back time he would appear as his past body, which was how he kept himself safe all this time. If he got hurt he could turn back time to a past body that didn’t have any injury at all -while retaining his memories of future-past, for his mind operated at a higher dimension, a metaphysical plane unaltered from his time manipulation. He could remember things that would happen, because they had already happened and he was reliving those moments all over again as a past self.  

If he tried traveling back in time, he wouldn’t be able to transport his present body to the past time; he would restart as the Zitao of the past, while keepingall his memories.

“I can’t,” he confirmed.

“You can’t travel to the past, only turn back space-time continuum,” Mama explained. “This would mean that you would appear three years into the past as the Tao trying to escape the trials.”

“Then how did I do it?” he asked disconcerted.

Mama didn’t reply; instead she looked at Jongin and indicated for him to speak. The other hesitated before voicing out his thoughts.

“Both of us are needed,” Jongin said slowly as if he finally understood what Mama meant before. He looked at Zitao astonished. “You can’t do it on your own. You need me.”

“Correct. You need to combine your abilities together,” Mama said.

Zitao looked back and forth between them. “What?”

“Jongin is able to transport his body independently of space-time,” Mama explained. “He may not be able to alter time, but he can travel through dimensions, appearing at different places despite this continuum.”

“I can jump from place to place while time continues,” Jongin supplied. “My teleportation doesn’t affect the time or place, it’s just my body appearing wherever I wish to go. A form of transportation.”

“Your physical state is independent of the metaphysical dimension,” Zitao commented as he finally caught on what they were trying to explain.

“Yeah,” Jongin nodded.

“Whereas I alter the physical dimension by manipulating the metaphysical dimension,” Zitao explained. “You’re the physical to my metaphysical.”

“Yeah,” Jongin said with a smile. “Together, you will give the time and I the place.”

“Correct.” Mama smiled proudly of them. “The loop will be created that way. Jongin will open a sub-dimension so he can transport your bodies through space-time. While you're inside the sub-dimension, Zitao, you become physically independent of the continuum, enabling you to preserve your current body as you alter time.” Mama’s smile grew, her tone enthusiastic.

“Imagine it this way. This is the present,” Mama held her right hand up to her side. “And this the past,” she lifted her left hand at the same height but separated from her other hand by the length of her torso. “When you jump into a sub-dimension, your bodies are at a different plane inside the continuum,” she pushed her right hand forward, so it would be further away from her body than her left hand. If she were to clap, her hands wouldn’t connect. “As you reverse time, you travel through the continuum, parallel to the current timeline,” she moved her right hand all the way to her left side, stopping in front of her left hand, aligning them. “When you reach the specific time in the past, you exit the sub-dimension and teleport back into our dimension,” Mama pulled back her right hand to meet with her left, closing the space between them and joining them together.. “Opening this sub-dimension will work as a literal bridge through space-time, linking the present with the past,” she said as she repeated the movement from right to left with her right hand.

“A loop,” Jongin said with a gasp.

“Time travel,” Mama asserted with a grin.

“Holy ,” Zitao exclaimed in awe.

“Exactly,” Mama laughed.

Zitao felt a strange feeling when he saw her laugh so lively -a tug in his heart that felt so foreign to him, for he could only remember her laugh from the implanted memories they shared, not from his own experience in the underground. It wasn’t a bad feeling, just an odd one that made him realize just how different she was to her clones he had met in the trials.

“You make it sound so easy.” Jongin commented after a moment.

Mama shook her head and then crossed her arms in front of her chest. “The theory is simple, but putting it into practice is a whole different level of complexity,” she said. “But let’s keep things simple. To time travel Zitao must be aware of his surroundings when Jongin teleports you both into a sub-dimension. You must be able to enter a higher mindset to control and reverse time while being inside the sub-dimension. ”

“I can’t breathe, let alone open my eyes when Jongin teleports me. How am I supposed to be aware in a sub-dimension?” he said alarmed.

“You both have an affinity towards space-time manipulation, so you must connect through your abilities.” Mama scratched her head as they stared silently with confusion written all over their faces. “This is going to take a while,” she sighed and walked back to her chair to sit down. “The trials were successful because of the years of work we spent on memory implantation and simultaneous telepathic stimulation. You remember what that is?”

“The gene you created to share newly-formed memories with our...clones,” Jongin answered.

“Correct. It’s a gene you all have and it’s unique to each of you,” she confirmed. “Back when I first worked on Kyungsoo, he didn’t have such gene,” Mama said in a soft and cautious tone, aware that speaking of Kyungsoo was hard for Jongin. “So he only had the ability to summon inhuman strength and map out his surroundings with vibrational communication.”

“He couldn’t manipulate earth?” Zitao asked.

“He could pound the ground strong enough to shake it, but nothing more,” Mama replied.

“Ah,” Zitao exclaimed out as he thought of something. “Is that why the Colonel only spoke of a boy stronger than a man? Remember?” He turned to look at Jongin who blinked confused. “Mama said the same in her video. A boy with inhuman strength.”

Jongin slowly nodded. “Yeah, she did.” He looked at her, “You did.”  

Mama gave a little smile. “It’s how it started.”  Mama reached up to fiddle with the bell of her necklace. “My initial idea was simple, to expand the human’s abilities by mimicking nature. A man capable of surviving underwater by modifying physiology with that of a fish. Or one capable of resisting very high or extremely low temperatures, through specialized biomolecules. Characteristics that exist in nature,” she explained. “My ideas worked well with what the company wanted. Soldiers with great strength. Soldiers that could resist fire or explosions, that could withstand freezing temperatures. Ones that could attack from above in the air or from the sea. Ones that could move quickly or disappear to evade attacks. Ones that could perceive time differently and make a difference. A medic that could quickly heal any injury and save countless of lives. It was easy to convince them to create the trials after Kyungsoo.”

“It started simple, but the telepathy gene changed everything. Its purpose was to project thoughts, brain waves -but telekinesis works under the same mechanism, brain wave projections with sufficient energy to disrupt the environment.” She paused for a moment to look at them intently, as if she was waiting for them to say something. “The gene mutated to each of you, developing a form of telekinesis specific to the element you have affinity with.”

“So,” Jongin said elongating the ‘o’. “We have these abilities because of the gene.”

“Because of all your mutations and because of the gene, yes,” Mama nodded. “The change was dramatic, from breathing underwater to controlling it. From aviary adaptations to gliding through air to actual flight. From vibrations to earthquakes,” she explained. “Earth, flight, water, wind, electricity and light. Then the pairs that share an affinity towards the same element. Temperature, for fire and frost, and space-time, for you both. The original telekinesis and lastly, the oddity, biological manipulation.” Mama paused again, giving them that same expectant look. “Do you understand now?”

Zitao remained quiet at first as he pieced together the information Mama had provided. He looked at Jongin to see in his eyes that he understood and, inexplicably, from just that look, Zitao understood as well.

“We both have affinity to space-time,” they chorused.

“We might work differently, but we both use the same medium,” Jongin continued. “Because of our affinity, we can somehow connect through our abilities.”

“But how?” Zitao asked.

“Trial and error.” Mama clasped her hands together and rested her elbows against the armrest. “The theory is always different from practice, but I believe my understanding of your abilities is accurate enough. Zitao, you rely on sensory stimuli to perceive the passage of time like you would light and temperature. Your suprachiasmatic nucleus and pineal gland are greatly modified, making your precision in time awareness possible. Being inside Jongin’s sub-dimension will deprive you of sensory stimuli and therefore affect your time awareness -even if it were for a mere fraction of a second.” She paused for a moment, giving them time to think. “Zitao, you’ll have to learn to estimate time with precision while being devoid of sensory stimulation. For that you’ll have to fully trust Jongin and connect with him through your affinity with space-time.” Mama stood up from her chair. “You’ll have to trust each other without words,” she said and then walked out of the office, motioning for them to follow her.

Zitao took a big breath, letting his mind relax from all the information he just heard. He had always known time travel would be difficult, but he had never imagined having to depend on someone else to do it.

He looked over at Jongin, who was staring at the wall, spaced out. Zitao was going to try to figure out which image Jongin was looking at, but he stopped himself midway. He realized that if they were going to trust each other wholeheartedly, then they would have to understand each other without needing to speak. He knew Jongin well enough to guess which picture the other was staring at.

Zitao reached out to hold his wrist, getting the younger’s attention. “We will save him,” he said earnestly. “We will go back and save his clone, to save him.”

Jongin looked at the wall and then back at him; he slowly nodded with a small smile.

“Let’s go.”

They walked out of the office where Mama was waiting for them, and together they took a left turn towards the laboratory. Zitao hadn’t visited the lab yet, but Jongin had told him what the place looked like. Big, spacious, with many sections and most of the equipment stored away or covered up, not being used at all. Mama led them to the right side.

As they were passing through the first section, Zitao’s eyes immediately caught the form of a person -half a person, on top of a station table.

“Oh my god, what is that?” Zitao exclaimed, squeezing Jongin’s hand out of fright.

“Oh, no worries,” Mama said as she walked up to the half-figure. “This used to be my assistant, an android.”

“It’s a robot?” Jongin asked with keen curiosity as he stepped closer -despite Zitao clinging to his side.

“Yes, a lab assistant robot with human form, though only the top half. Legs aren’t necessary for handling instruments or chemicals,” she explained as she turned the half-body towards them.

The android had a woman’s face, of distinctly asian ethnicity. Oval face with clear skin, slanted dark eyes, small nose and small rosey lips. Black straight hair, perfectly slicked back and drawn up in a ponytail. It felt creepy for Zitao to look at the android, for her face was completely devoid of expression -lifeless.

“How did it move without legs?” Jongin asked.

“Q9 had a base structure with wheels, but she won’t be needing them anymore,” Mama shrugged.

“Why did you deactivate Q9?” Jongin asked again.

“I was fed up with her,” Mama said as she turned away. “She argued too much, so I shut her down. Robots are very inflexible towards change, they always stick to protocol which can be quite hindersome. Annoying.”

“Did you make it?” Jongin questioned.

“No, I’m not good with wires,” she joked. “I had Q9 from when I worked in China. Their subunits were the ones in charge of artificial intelligence and cloning. Those experiments are easier to explain to the authorities than human experimentations. That’s why it’s been hard to dismantle the Chinese subunits and the company’s headquarters,” she explained as she led the way.

Entering the last section on the far right of the laboratory, there was only a big block with a door in front of them. Big enough to be some sort of room.

“This is it,” Mama said indicating to the big block.

“What is it?” Zitao asked.

“It’s a small isolation room that I’ve constructed, where you’ll be deprived of light and sound, and you’ll be exposed to a constant temperature,” Mama explained as she opened the door. “All you have to do in there is become aware of your surroundings, your feelings, your thoughts and become aware of each other.”

“Like meditating?” Zitao asked.

“Pretty much, yes,” Mama agreed. “This exercise would be much more effective if you stayed inside for a day or two, that way your bodies would completely adapt to the feeling of nothingness. But Baekhyun won’t allow it, no matter how much I’ve argued about it. So you’ll practice intermittently for a couple of hours, various times a day. Alright?”

Zitao and Jongin both nodded in agreement.

“Time isn’t an issue for you, but our days are counted,” she said as she ushered them inside the room. “I’ll open this door in about two hours. Work hard.”

Once the door was fully closed, Zitao’s heart sunk as he felt lost in the complete lack of stilumi. He couldn’t see anything before his eyes, the room was too dark, pitch black , where not even a sliver of light existed. He felt caged in silence, so absolute that the inside of his ears felt numb in the absence of the pressure he was normally used to.

Zitao couldn’t feel the air. It wasn’t that he had always been aware of the intangible mass but being inside the room meant absolute absence of breeze, of any current no matter how soft. In a brief moment of paranoia, wondering if there even was air to breathe in inside the room and if he was breathing at all, Zitao’s breath hitched and he took in a desperate gasp of air. His lungs compressed harder than intended, but at least he was assured he was in fact breathing.

Zitao couldn’t place the fear he felt being inside the complete void that was the room. He knew what he was getting into the moment he stepped inside, but being here was awfully different from what he had imagined.

Being inside the isolation room was the closest experience to emptiness Zitao could ever fathom.

Zitao heard a breath close to him, one that sounded much more relaxed than his own. Slowly he discerned a continuous pattern of breaths coming from his right side, and the moment of panic was gradually subdued as he remembered he was not alone in this room of nothingness.

Warm fingers made contact with his arm, generating a vibrant tingle where skin carressed skin, making all his senses focus on Jongin’s hand. Jongin’s hand moved slowly, cautiously almost, yet in a comforting way that made Zitao relax. He felt Jongin’s hand slide down his arm until he reached his hand, and he let Jongin wrap his fingers securely around his own.  

Zitao’s thoughts began to still, focusing on the only things he could perceive, Jongin’s hand in his and the rhythm of their breathing.

-March 21st, 2015. Edinburgh 14:30.

Walking down the causeway presented a sight like none other, appearing as though they had walked across the sea by foot -even if the tide had died down enough to uncover the land. The tall and imposing pillars made the experience feel even more surreal for Minseok, making him imagine that he were in some sort of dream, a place so foreign that could only exist in fantasies. Overall, Minseok had fun walking down the strip -well, not as much fun as Daniel, the younger had skipped all the way to the island, a gleeful smile plastered on his face the whole time.

When they reached the stretch of sand where the causeway met the island, they saw an old military building on top of the hill facing them. The building was small, with a lot of graffities blemishing the deteriorated concrete. Passing the old building, there were three paths in sight. From where they stood, Daniel could see the change in the wind at the other end of the island, even smell the presence of someone else on it. So Minseok decided they should take the middle path towards the north. It took them less than twenty minutes of walking to reach the north end of the small patch of land, where they were met with another military building to their right and three smaller structures further ahead, that most likely had been used for storage. They all had been tarnished and vandalized.

Daniel pointed to their left and Minseok spotted Sehun sitting on top of one of the smaller buildings. Sehun had his back turned towards them as he faced the cold blue ocean. The breeze around him tousled his brown chocolate hair.

“It’s him,” Minseok said aloud for Daniel to hear, but his legs were already pulling him forward.

Minseok walked around the building to stand at its front. “Sehun-ah!” he called out with a gleeful smile.

Sehun’s vacant eyes spotted him and blinked twice before finally realizing who he was. “Hyung,” he gasped.

“Sehun, how the hell did you get up there?” Minseok asked with a chuckle.

“I, uh, jumped.”

“Yeah, right,” Minseok rolled his eyes sarcastically. “Mind giving me a hand?” He asked as he walked up closer to the front.

Minseok felt a strong waft of air envelope his body and push him up off the ground. He felt a little stir in his stomach as he flew a few meters off the ground until he was settled easily on top of the roof. Long arms immediately wrapped around him in a tight embrace, which Minseok fondly returned.

“I missed you so much, hyung.”

“Yeah, I missed you too,” Minseok said as he pushed the younger back to look up at his face. “, how much have you grown?” he exclaimed, making the younger laugh. “I’m serious. What did they feed you? Look how tall you are, damn.”

“You look the same,” Sehun complimented.

“My point exactly,” he joked, but the laughter died soon as he noticed how red and puffy Sehun eyes were. “Have you been crying?”

“Huh?” Sehun looked taken aback, but then quickly rubbed his eyes. “I, uh, I didn’t sleep much last night,” he muttered softly.

“Where did you sleep?” Minseok asked concerned as he looked around the nearly desolate island. “Here?”

Sehun pressed his lips together into a thin line as he nodded. “I hid inside this storage thing,” he pointed down to his feet, indicating the building they were on top of.

“The , Sehun,” he exclaimed. “You can’t just sleep in abandoned buildings in the middle of nowhere. You could’ve gotten hurt or somebody could have found you and, and done something, ya know?” he chastised.

“How? It’s literally the middle of nowhere and I was all alone,” Sehun argued.

“Still, something bad could’ve happened,” Minseok insisted. “Have you even eaten anything?”

Sehun huffed annoyed and sat down, crossing his arms over his chest petulantly. “I’m not a kid, hyung. I can take care of myself.”

“So you’ve had lunch?”

Sehun looked away. “No.”

Minseok rolled his eyes. He opened up his canvas backpack and picked out a sandwich he had saved up for later. “Here,” he offered it to the younger and sat next to him.

Minseok relaxed a bit as he waited for Sehun to fill his stomach. He turned around to spot Daniel waiting behind them, standing tall enough for his hair to peak over the structure. Minseok gestured to him to sit down and wait, to which Daniel obeyed with a dejected look.

Minseok turned his attention back to Sehun. The younger had really grown in the past three years. His face had matured into sharp angles, making him look much more handsome than what Minseok remembered. And the height difference felt even more evident when he had to outstretch his arm to comb Sehun’s tousled hair.

“Why are you here, Sehun?” he asked as he brushed his hair.

Sehun let his hands drop to his lap, leaving his food half-eaten. “I just wanted to be alone.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I,” his voice wavered, “I just remember feeling hurt. Feeling so hurt that all I wanted was to be alone.”

Minseok’s eyebrows twisted with concern as he saw the look of distress in Sehun’s face. His eyes were wide and wet, but no tears fell, even if his voice sounded like he was in the verge of crying.

He reached over to hold Sehun’s hand. “What happened? What did Lu Han say to you?” Minseok asked.

“That’s the problem, hyung. He didn’t say anything,” Sehun’s voice cracked with anger. “After all these years, he didn’t want to speak to me. He didn’t even let me in the freakin' house!”

“He didn’t?”

“No,” Sehun grumbled while he pulled his hand away to wrap his arms around his bent knees.

Minseok scratched his ear. “I thought he said he did.”

“What?” Sehun’s eyebrows rose as he looked the elder. “You spoke with him?”

“Yeah, I stopped by the house looking for you,” he explained. “I thought you’d be there with him.”

“That prick,” Sehun muttered as he rested his chin against his knees. “I know we’ve had issues, but I never imagined he’d stoop so low and not even greet me. Three years and he couldn’t even say hello.” He rambled on annoyed. “But with you, no freakin' problem.”

“Actually, I had to kick his force field a couple of times to get in.”

“What an ,” Sehun frowned. “Hiding inside a house with a freakin' force field.”

Minseok realized that if Lu Han didn’t speak with Sehun, then maybe Sehun had no idea why Lu Han was staying at Dr. Murdock’s home in the first place. Maybe there were many things Sehun wasn’t aware of and Minseok felt the duty of letting the other know what really was going on. Sehun deserved to know the truth.

“Sehun, do you know why he’s staying in that house?”

Sehun gave him a confused look. “Isn’t it his foster home?”

“No, Lu Han doesn’t have a foster family,” Minseok revealed. “Actually, I think no one under the NSB has a foster home, since the agents prefered to have us work with them.”

“What? What do you mean?” Sehun looked utterly confused. “What’s the NSB?”

“The NSB is the Chinese intelligence security agency. Don’t you remember Chief Park said he’d be working with them? Since EX’ACT’s headquarters is in China, they felt they needed to take responsibility and help them with the whole ordeal.”

“Oh,” Sehun mumbled.

“Not everyone is protected under the NIS,” he continued to explain. “We were separated into two groups, six with the NIS and six with the NSB.”

“How come you know all this?” Sehun asked.

“Well, the NSB agents let us work with them in some missions, so I’ve been told a few things,” Minseok admitted. “Yifan, Jongdae and Zitao are protected by the NSB. Lu Han and Yixing as well, and both helped dismantle subunits in China. Whereas I helped out while I was living in Russia.”

“You took down subunits?” Sehun asked amazed.

“Yeah,” Minseok tried to smile. “Anyway, what I was trying to say is that Lu Han used to live in China and only recently moved to Edinburgh. That house you went to, that’s not his home but of a scientist named Murdock.”

“Murdock,” Sehun repeated thoughtfully. “Sounds familiar...I think.” He tilted his head to the side. “Why is Lu Han with this scientist?”

“Well, from what I’ve been told, this guy is trying to help Lu Han get better.”

“Get better? From what?” he asked concerned.

Minseok’s jaw slacked a bit as he felt oddly surprised by how uninformed Sehun was. “Lu Han never told you?” he asked instead.

“What was he supposed to tell me? He didn’t even let me speak to him.”

“I mean, before. Didn’t he tell you before we were separated?”

Sehun stared at him with worry. “Hyung, what are you talking about?” His voice sounded weak.

“My god,” Minseok sighed as he rubbed his face with his hands. “I can’t believe it.”

“What’s wrong?” Sehun asked with apprehension. “Hyung, you’re scaring me.”

Minseok took a moment to reply, for he realized something he had never considered before. “That’s why he sent you,” Minseok spoke out his thoughts. “That’s why Baekhyun made sure you’d get to see Lu Han before heading to Paris. He wanted you to know.”

“Wait, Baekhyun? What does Baekhyun have to do with this?”

“The message you got about Lu Han being in Edinburgh.” Sehun nodded, letting Minseok know he remembered such a fact. “Baekhyun sent it. Baekhyun wanted you to see Lu Han, because he wanted you to learn the truth.”

Sehun wetted his lips nervously. “What’s the truth?”

“Lu Han, Lu Han can’t feel love without losing his mind.” Sehun face dropped as he stared back in utter silence. “Whenever he feels a strong emotion like love or hatred, he loses control of his abilities and snaps.”

Sehun looked up to the sky, clenching his jaw tight. Minseok worried about the way he exposed the truth and hurried to explain better.

“You remember that Lu Han has always struggled with his feelings? That emotions are linked with thoughts, so feelings would mess up with his control?” Minsok waited for a reply, but Sehun kept quiet. “Every time he snapped, it was because his emotions would get the best of him. That’s why he relied on you so much, Sehun. You were the only one who could stop him when things went bad.”

Sehun kept silent as he stared at the sky. Minseok fell quiet too as he thought of what else to say to console the other boy. His eyes wandered towards the ocean while he briefly observed that the breeze had remained the same. He remembered that the wind used to give away Sehun’s emotions, but right now Minseok couldn’t tell if the other was distressed or not. During their whole conversation the breeze had remained unaltered, so Minseok wondered if Sehun had finally learned to control his abilities.

“You know, you’re very similar to him,” Minseok commented with a friendly tone.

“I am?” Sehun asked quietly.

“Yeah, your emotions usually showed in the wind, as if you couldn’t control your abilities either,” he said with a light chuckle. “But now...now I can’t tell at all what you’re feeling. So I guess you’re just as good as him at hiding .”

Sehun let out an annoyed huff and finally lowered his gaze to the sea in front of them.

“There’s a thin line between love and hate,” Minseok said solemnly. “Both emotions are among the strongest one can feel, both are passionate but of utterly opposite effect. Lu Han, unfortunately, had been exposed to hatred before he ever had the chance to experience love.” Sehun finally looked at him with an unreadable expression. “His brain is used to reacting harshly once he feels anything akin to hate. So, even if he doesn’t mean to, his brain confuses love with hate and snaps.” He paused for a brief moment. “Sehun, it’s not that Lu Han pushed you away because he doesn’t love you. He’s just terrified because he can’t.”

Tears started rushing down Sehun’s face faster than Minseok had the chance to even blink. Minseok nearly panicked at seeing how fast Sehun’s demeanor crumbled, and quickly reached up to wipe the tears away. Sehun grabbed Minseok’s hands in his own, forcing them to still.

“Hyung,” he said with a wavering voice. “I feel like, deep down, I always knew.”

Minseok took a moment to hush Sehun, enveloping him in a comforting embrace -though it took surprisingly little to calm him down. Minseok wondered if Sehun had run out of tears to shed.

“Don’t worry, Sehun-ah,” Minseok cooed. “He’ll get better, I know he will.”

“All I ever wanted was to stay by his side,” Sehun confessed. “I wanted him to stop pushing me away and just be himself around me. I never asked for anything more.”

“Maybe it’s Lu Han’s own emotions that drove him away,” Minseok said. “Not something he was pressured about, but his own feelings.”

“And his feelings cause him to flip tables,” Sehun muttered annoyed. “I get it. It’s no one’s fault. But still, he should’ve told me about it instead of being such a douche.”

Minseok chuckled and ruffled Sehun’s hair. “Come on,” he said as he stood up. “We should leave this island before the tide rises again.”

When they got off the military storage, Daniel immediately made his way to join them -his dejected pout now replaced by a bright smile. Sehun looked surprised as he finally noticed that Minseok had brought someone else with him.

“Sehun, this is-”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Daniel,” he said, eagerly, cutting off Minseok, and he bent by the waist, giving a full and proper bow.

Minseok couldn’t help but smile at how happy Daniel was to introduce himself with his new chosen name.

“Nice to meet you,” Sehun said, a bit flustered. “I’m Sehun.”

“I know,” Daniel beamed with his infectious smile, stepping closer to them. “I found you.”

“Oh,” Sehun looked at Minseok, who nodded to confirm.

Minseok noticed, with a little envy, that Sehun and Daniel were about the same height.

“Spots,” Daniel said pointing at Sehun’s face.

“What?” Sehun asked concerned, feeling his face for anything weird.

Minseok shook his head. “He can see the weird spots on our skin. The ones Baekhyun showed us under UV light,” he explained.

“How?”

“Daniel has a dog eye that can see UV light, so he can see things we can’t,” Minseok explained.

“Oh,” Sehun said long and loud. “That’s...interesting,” Sehun gave Minseok a look, one that asked how could anyone have a dog eye in the first place. “Is that why your eyes are of different colors?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you see differently with your blue eye?” Sehun asked.

Daniel gasped amazed. “How you know?”

“I just guessed,” Sehun chuckled.

“Amazing,” Daniel’s smile spread wide again and he jumped up in excitement.

“He had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right, Daniel,” Minseok rolled his eyes. “We should head back. Daniel, lead the way.”

“Okay,” he quipped gleefullyand began to march down the path.

“Hyung,” Sehun asked in a low voice. “What is he?”

“He can hear you just fine, even if you whisper,” Minseok informed, despite whispering himself. “He’s like one of us, Sehun,” he said with a meaningful look. “I’ll tell you more on our way.”

Sehun nodded slowly, mouth shaped in an o.

“Do you have a fake passport?” Minseok asked.

“No.”

“Then how did you expect to travel through Europe without one?”

“I, I just thought I’d stay here,” Sehun said confused.

Minseok sighed. “We’ll have to stay in London for a day or two to get you a passport. I’ll have to warn Baek.”

“Why Baek?”

“He’s got connections that can get us a fake passport,” Minseok explained. “And then we’ll head to Paris.”

“Paris? Why Paris?” Sehun asked.

Minseok had an unsettling feeling that Sehun really had no idea what was going on.

“It’s where Baekhyun lives. Jongin and Zitao are supposed to be there already,” he informed.

“What about Lu Han,” Sehun frowned. “Is he not coming with us?”

“Not yet, but he will.” Minseok patted Sehun’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you more on the way.”

-March 22nd, 2015. Paris 22:02.

It wasn’t working.

No matter how much he tried, Zitao knew the connection wasn’t working. The two-hour longsessions weren't enough; even if they tried all day long, the short sessions weren’t enough to create a connection.

Zitao sat up on his bed in the room he shared with Jongin, the latter still inside the bathroom, getting ready to sleep. They had to spend every moment of the day together to get completely used to each other -know one another well enough to predict their movements.

Zitao closed his eyes and let out a long sigh as he rested his head against the wall. The room looked pretty much like the rest of the underground hideout, pure concrete and boring as hell. He remained quiet and attentive to every sound coming from behind the closed door. He heard the shower turn off and then, minutes later, he could make out the sound of water running down the sink. A few more minutes and he heard the door open and the flick of a light switch.

Without opening his eyes, Zitao raised his hand and gestured for Jongin to join him. He felt the bed dip before he heard the soft rustle of sheets, giving away Jongin’s actions to sit next to him. He could feel Jongin’s side pressing next to him, his body heat and the lingering humidity from his damp hair. Jongin smelled nice, fresh from his shower.

Zitao turned his head slowly to look at Jongin. The younger was staring at him with curiosity and worry.

“It’s going to work,” Jongin said before he had the chance to speak his mind. “It has to.”

“Because it already happened?”

“Because we already did it once,” Jongin said.

“We haven’t really done it yet, Jong,” he argued. “It happened but we haven’t really done it yet.”

Jongin sighed and laid his head against Zitao’s shoulder. “How much do you think would change if we up?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“On when we up.” Zitao huffed, pushing Jongin off a bit. “If we up before time traveling, hell, if we don’t manage to pull it off, then reality as we know it is utterly ing screwed.”

Jongin tsked his teeth. “Our lives would implode? Huh?”

“The whole freaking universe would implode,” he exclaimed, flailing his arms exaggeratedly.

The younger chuckled. “You think so? You think our lives will affect the whole universe?” Jongin asked amused.

Zitao shook his head, knowing exactly where Jongin's ideas were heading. “Nah, we’re just a speck of dust living on borrowed time. Right?”

Jongin gazed up to the bare ceiling. “Why is it borrowed time?”

“Well, because people don’t have time. We can’t possess it, it’s just something that exists beyond us,” he explained.

“Huh,” Jongin huffed before looking back at him. “I thought you had time.”

Zitao smiled as he shook his head. “Nah, I just play with it. I don’t own it.”

Jongin rolled his eyes at his statement, but remained silent. Zitao stared back at him, observing how his face had matured over the years. Zitao’s smile slowly vanished as he realized he had never foreseen the members being old, fully grown men, and this reminded him of what he discovered over a month ago.

“What now?” Jongin asked concerned.

“I think I haven’t told you something,” he said, turning a bit to better face Jongin.

Jongin stood up straighter with his back fully against the wall. “What it is?”

“I, I can’t see anything anymore.”

“What?”

“I mean my visions,” Zitao corrected. “They weren’t really visions, but memories.”

“Memories?” Jongin said as his eyebrows shot up. “Did you turn back time, like, for years?”

“Uh, no. It wasn’t exactly me, but the first Tao turned back time to the first moment I woke up,” he explained.

“I don’t get it,” Jongin frowned.

“It’s not easy to explain,” he rubbed his hands against his knees. “My mind, my mind works differently.”

“You think I haven’t noticed that?” Jongin asked sarcastically.

“Shut up,” Zitao slapped the other’s thigh. “I’m being serious. When I meditate, I can enter this higher state of mind where I’m someplace else.”

Jongin’s eyes widened. “Like Nirvana?”

“No,” he deadpanned. “It’s like a higher dimension in my mind, my subconscious. I think it’s, I think it’s where I connect with the continuum. Being inside my mind is where I connect with space-time.”

“Connect with space-time?”

“Yeah. It’s where the first Tao exists.” Jongin stared at him in confusion. “The first Tao’s consciousness is stuck inside my mind. It’s from him that I had all those memories. My visions were his memories.”

“You have another Tao in your mind?” Jongin asked, seriously this time.

“Yes. Because my mind exists in this higher dimension, the first Tao can exist in there too, as a conscious- a spirit,” he explained.

Jongin stayed quiet for a pensive moment. His back slouched a little before he looked back at Zitao. “Your visions were the other Tao’s memories, so did you relive the same things as him?” he asked.

“Not exactly the same. His memories served as a guideline to warn me of some things, but, no, it’s not like I lived the same life as him,” Zitao explained.

“Some things changed?”

“Yeah, many things were different,” he nodded.

“And you can’t see anymore memories?” Zitao shook his head, no. “Because the first Tao didn’t live much longer?”

“He said that time travel distorts space-time perception so he couldn’t conserve the memory and that he didn’t live much longer after that, since he turned back time,” Zitao explained.

“Why’d he do it?”

“Do what?”

“Turn back time?” Jongin asked.

Zitao took a moment before replying. “Because in his lifetime, Yifan kept dying. So he believes that by turning back time and living differently, Yifan will be safe.”

“Will he?”

Zitao didn’t answer.

“I can’t see us time traveling, Jongin,” he confessed instead. “I can’t see us further in life either, so I don’t know if we’ll manage to do it or not.”

Jongin didn’t say anything at first and instead fidgetted with his fingers. “Have you told Baek this?”

Zitao shook his head. “No, but…” Zitao rubbed his arm. “I have an odd feeling that he knows.”

“How come? What did he say?”

“It’s what he hasn’t said. Jong, he hasn’t asked me about my visions. Not once,” he explained.

Jongin looked at him with concern. “Does anyone else know about this?”

“No, not really,” he replied. “Sehun knows about the other Tao in my mind, but I only recently learned that my visions were memories. No one could’ve told Baek.”

“Maybe…” Jongin’s eyes wandered around before landing back on him. “Maybe he doesn’t want to ask yet. I mean, he’s given us a lot of space. Other than working out in the mornings and eating, he hasn’t been around us much.” Zitao nodded slowly in agreement. “He knows how important what we’re doing is, how difficult, so I guess he doesn’t want to distract us.”

“Could be,” he agreed.

“Besides, it’s not like you’d tell us what would happen if we’d asked,” Jongin reminded. “You always were so secretive about your visions. So why bother asking if you aren’t going to share?”

Zitao chuckled. “Yeah, I guess that explains it. I’m worrying over nothing.”

“Well, not over nothing,” Jongin said as he leaned against Zitao again. “We still haven’t managed to make the connection.”

Zitao huffed. “Time traveling is such a pain in the ,” he grumbled. “I always thought I would do it on my own. That I’d meditate, enter a higher dimension and just pop up in the past. How ing naive.”

“Wait,” Jongin said suddenly as he reached to grab Zitao’s hand. “That’s it,” he perked up.

“What?”

“How we can connect,” Jongin said eagerly. “You said you can enter your subconscious and connect with the space-time dimension. So let’s do that. I might not be able to do the same, but I am part of space-time.”

“I thought you were independent of it.”

“I can move independently from it, but I exist inside the space-time continuum when I’m in a sub-dimension.” Jongin spoke enthusiastically as he turned to face him. “All you have to do is enter the dimension in your mind while I teleport us into a sub-dimension to warp jump.”

“Okay, but how am I supposed to know when I’m inside a sub-dimension?” he asked skeptically.

“You, you’ll just have to perceive it,” Jongin said. “We may not be able to communicate telepathically, but we can be able perceive each other somehow.”

“Awareness,” Zitao said out loud. “We have to try it. Now.”

“It’s only been two days,” Jongin frowned.

“Yeah, meaning we’ve only got a week left,” Zitao said as he stood up off the bed. “We don’t have time to waste.”

“I thought we didn’t have time at all,” Jongin quipped.

Zitao rolled his eyes in annoyance. “We should start right away, because two hours ain’t gonna cut it. I think we should try staying inside the room for a whole day.”

“A whole day?” Jongin exclaimed.

“Maybe more,” he shrugged. “If we commit to doing this right, then I believe it’s best to stay inside the isolation room as long as possible, until we make progress.”

“A whole day?” Jongin repeated.

“Stop freaking out, it has a door.” Zitao reached forward to pull Jongin off the bed. “You can leave whenever you need to, but the more we stay inside the better.”

“A whole day?”

“Oh, come on.”

-March 22nd, 2015. Montreal 20:05.

The exhibition was going fairly well, with various guests attending the private viewing. Yifan was confident that all the people who had received an invitation came to the show -all but one.

Jongin hadn't arrived yet. In fact Yifan had expected Jongin to visit him yesterday, but the latter never came. It was the first time Jongin stood him up, which made Yifan worry much more than he’d like to admit.

Jongin wouldn't simply forget about Yifan’s first art exhibition, so the elder wondered what might have happened. Maybe he got grounded again, but Jongin’s father wasn't that big of a douche to not allow him to Yifan’s show -not that Jongin would obey anyway, since he could simply disappear from his room. Yifan knew Jongin had been exploring further south through America, working arduously in finding the rest of the members. Maybe he had found someone. Maybe Zitao, they were meant to time travel soon -though Yifan was certain Jongin would’ve informed him if he found anyone else. So, maybe Jongin got sick again. Wouldn't be unlikely for the younger to get sick, since he exposed himself to different climates.

“What if he ditched me for Chanyeol?” Yifan gasped as he spoke to himself. “He wouldn't...Would he?”

Whatever reason Jongin had to not show up at his exhibition, Yifan couldn't do much more than guess and worry, instead of enjoying opening night.

Jongin had been the one to encourage him to keep painting and dared him to participate in a collective showing. He convinced Yifan to credit his work under a pseudonym and keep both identities, his own and that of the artist, anonymous. And now that he had finally mustered the courage to show off his work within a collaborative collection of thriving artists, it felt like a waste without Jongin.

Not even the free champagne felt worth being there.

Yifan let out a tired sigh. He had already looked at the work of the other artists and was now standing with his back towards his own paintings, gazing out the window. He could see the shopfront of a picturesque café at the other side of the boulevard. Pedestrians making their way through the street, enjoying the Sunday night breeze.

Yifan felt an urge to walk out of the gallery. Just leave the show, go home, have a nice glass of wine and call it a night. It was a long way from downtown Montreal to the neighborhood he lived in, but if it meant leaving the exhibition, then so be it. Plus, Agent Wu would drive anyway.

Yifan quickly downed the rest of his drink and set the glass on a cocktail table. As he turned to leave, his eyes caught a familiar figure -familiar enough that he halted his movements in utter shock.

Yifan’s eyes widened as he observed the back of the young man, dressed in all black, who was staring at his painting. He noticed the familiarity of the other’s slender shoulders and small body. The blackness of his hair, the fair skin of his exposed square hands. Yifan felt his heart pound from trepidation as he took a few steps closer, to try to see the side of the other’s face. Thick brows, straight nose, curved lips and low-set jaw.

It was Kyungsoo, it had to be.

Yifan hurried forward with long steps and tapped the other’s shoulder, urging him to turn around. Yifan’s voice was caught in the back of his throat as he stared stupefied. It wasn’t him, it wasn’t Kyungsoo, but he looked so familiar. The stranger’s face was longer, his nose had the same shape as Kyungsoo’s, only wider. His lips had the same unique curves, only they were thinner, and his jaw was more squared. He had the same thick brows and his eyes were almost identical, only smaller, not as round as Kyungsoo’s.

Yifan didn’t know how long he stared at the smaller boy, but it was enough for the stranger’s expression to turn from surprised, to confused, to worried. The stranger spoke to him, but Yifan didn’t register what the other said -all he recognized was that the look-alike spoke in French.

“I...I’m sorry,” Yifan spoke in French, slowly coming down from his state of shock. “I mistook you for a friend.”

“Oh, don’t worry. It can happen to anyone,” the look-alike said in a friendly manner and with a bright smile -not Kyungsoo. “I have to admit, you did scare me a bit. You looked like you saw a ghost,” he chuckled -definitely not Kyungsoo.

Yifan nodded as he registered how different the stranger’s voice was compared to how he remembered Kyungsoo’s. The look-alike’s voice was light and of a higher pitch, but there was a smoothness in it that reminded him of Kyungsoo’s in an unsettling way.

“Yeah,” Yifan said while trying to smile and appear as normal as possible. “Might as well have been a ghost, I haven’t seen my friend in years.”

The young man’s brows shot up in surprise and Yifan realized what he just said, revealing more information than needed for small talk with a complete stranger. Only that, for some odd reason, maybe because of the resemblance to Kyungsoo, Yifan didn’t feel it was wrong to speak to the other guy.

“Never mind that,” Yifan quickly said with a dismissive hand gesture, but the stranger shook his head.

“It’s okay,” he said with a solemn smile, and Yifan was shocked again by how familiar the stranger looked. “You must really miss your friend to see him in me.”

Yifan blinked twice, slowly and deliberately as he tried to make sense of the stranger’s words. “What?”

He chuckled before replying. “In Korean, my grandparents’ language, to say we miss someone we used the words ‘want to see’. So when you miss someone, you’re saying: I want to see that person,” he explained. “I want to see you.”

“I miss you,” Yifan said in Korean, surprising the other.

“You’re Korean?” He asked speaking in Korean, but with heavy accent Yifan guessed was from speaking French.

“No, but I lived there for many years,” Yifan revealed -which wasn’t exactly true.

“My family is a mix of Québécois and Korean,” he said without a hint of reservation -being just as open and friendly as any other Canadian Yifan has met. “But I don’t speak Korean well at all.”

“Oh,” Yifan said without really knowing how else to reply.

A small silence fell between them, if it was awkward neither dared to say so. The Kyungsoo look-alike turned his attention back to the painting he had been observing before Yifan’s intervention.

“Isn’t it a bit selfish to say that?” The stranger said without looking up at him. “I miss you,” he said in his accented Korean. “I want to see you. It’s like asking someone who’s gone to come back.”

“I thought it meant to long for someone. As in, I wish I could see you again,” Yifan said.

“But what if that someone can’t come back?” The look-alike asked, looking up to face him. “What if you can’t see them again? Isn’t it selfish to want them to come back?” Yifan stared confused without knowing what to say, so he continued. “You ever heard a saying that goes like: Life is beautiful because of its impermanence?” Yifan shook his head -he didn’t. “The beautiful cherry blossoms fall shortly after they bloom,” he said. “Life is transient, fleeting, that’s why we appreciate it. We live for a moment, and the next we’re gone.” He paused before saying, “That’s why I think it’s selfish to ask to see someone who’s already gone, because it’s like asking for the cherry blossom to bloom again when it’s already withered away.”

Yifan slowly nodded, he understood what the other wanted to tell him. “Instead of missing the cherry blossom that fell, you should appreciate its moment in life,” Yifan said, “It’s beauty.”

The stranger smiled at him. “Instead of missing the cherry blossom, appreciate its existence and the chance you’ve gotten to marvel at its beauty,” he agreed. “And wait for the next spring, because just as time withers and takes a cherry blossom from the world, it also rewards you with new blossoms, to appreciate life.”

Yifan smiled at the stranger’s wise words and wondered how someone who appeared to be about the same age as himself heldsuch enlightened ideas. What experiences could he have gone through to learn so much.

“Who did you lose?” Yifan asked before realizing what he was saying. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay,” he quickly said with a smile. “My father. It’s been,” he hummed in thought, “four years.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Yifan said courteously, but the stranger shook his head, as if to say there was nothing to be sorry about.

“I apologize if I bummed out your evening. I blame this painting for making me feel so introspective tonight,” he said with a slight chuckle as he inclined his headtowards the art.

Yifan finally looked at the piece the other had been gazing at -it was his abstract of blue hues with a silhouette emerging from the middle. Nostalgia.

“Normally I stray away from the abstracts, but this one feels familiar to me somehow. I feel like I understand what the artist meant to express.” The look-alike said seriously before letting out a chuckle. “It’s hard to say you understand an artist’s work without sounding presumptuous,” he joked.

Yifan shrugged, “Art is what we make of it.” The other nodded as if he agreed. “What do you feel seeing this?”

The stranger observed the painting once more before answering. “A longing to be with someone I miss, someone who makes me feel safe.”

Yifan knew he must have assumed a shocked expression again, but he couldn’t help it.

“Too cheesy?” he asked with a laugh.

“Not at all,” Yifan quickly said with a shake of the head. “I felt the same.” The other looked surprised at this. “Are you familiar with the artist?” Yifan asked, trying to steer their conversation away from anything emotional.

“No,” he admitted. “I don’t often come downtown for art exhibitions. I frequent the galleries at Mile End.”

“Ah, the artistic neighbourhood,” Yifan commented.

“Yeah, it’s home to me,” the look-alike said. “Son of artists,” he explained before Yifan had the chance to ask. “Actually my mother was invited to this event, but she wasn’t feeling well today.”

“Do you mind telling me her name? Maybe I know some of her work.”

“She goes under the name Do Soo.”

“I don’t think I know her.”

“Didn't think so. She only exhibits at our family gallery,” he said and took out his wallet to pass him a business card.

Dépaysement - Gallery, it read, and had listed contact details and information and one name: Hyunsoo Do.

Yifan gulped hard as he reread the name. Do Hyunsoo, just a shy away from being Do Kyungsoo. Yifan felt he was going crazy, but he realized that many things had happened in too short a time to be considered a mere coincidence. A family of Korean mixed with French-Canadian, of the surname Do. The undeniable resemblance the guy had with Kyungsoo.

It had to be true. Do Hyunsoo had to be Kyungsoo’s brother, Yifan knew it.

“You’re Hyunsoo?” he asked casually, trying to keep his composure.

His eyes widened, comically so, showing so much white like Kyungsoo’s would. “Did we have that long conversation without introducing ourselves?” he asked, sounding as absurd the situation had been. “Yes, I’m Hyunsoo Do, but friends call me Hyun.”

Yifan couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m Yifan, Yifan Wu.” He stretched out his arm.

“Nice meeting you, Yifan,” Hyunsoo said cheerfully.

“It’s been fun indeed,” Yifan smiled. “I promise to visit your gallery someday.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

As he was leaving, Yifan realized the grave mistake he had made -but it also was possible the best mistake he could ever make. He had found Kyungsoo’s family.

-March 23rd, 2015. Paris 05:22.

“Baekhyun. Baekhyun, wake up.”

Baekhyun struggled against the bed sheets, and forced his body to sit up despite his uncooperative eyes. He felt a soft grip help him stay upright while he demanded his eyes to open. His mind was foggy and confused, but he could sense the urge in her voice.

“Wha?” he croaked out unintelligibly.

“There’s been an incident,” Mama informed as she brushed his messy hair backwards to reveal his face. “I don’t know the details, but Junmyeon is on his way to Marseille.”

“Marseille?” Baekhyun repeated in French as he furiously rubbed his eyes. “What the hell? Why didn’t he wait in Genoa like I told him to?”

“I think something grave must have happened,” she said switching to French as well, and stood up to walk towards his closet. “He wouldn’t take the risk of swimming through the Mediterranean out of impatience.”

“Swi-swimming?” Baekhyun stammered in disbelief. “You’re telling me that Junmyeon is swimming all the way to Marseille?” He spoke switching between languages.

“Yes,” Mama replied as she pulled out clothes for him to wear.

“,” he jumped out of bed.

“Take the non-stop from Lyon station, it’s the closest one after crossing Charles de Gaulle bridge. The earliest train leaves at six, so you should be at Marseille by nine.” She instructed in French as she handed him dark jeans, a black turtleneck and an undershirt.

“We should invest in buying a car,” Baekhyun muttered as he accepted the clothes.

“Cars are unreliable and easy to track down,” she argued as she pushed him towards the bathroom.

“We should get a car,” he mumbled as he closed the door.

“Marseille Saint-Charles train station is directly connected to the metro. Take the light blue line to a stop called Old-Port, it will lead you straight to the port’s dock,” Mama informed from the other side of the door.

“Okay,” Baekhyun pulled the turtleneck on. “Metro, light blue line, Old-Port, got it.”

He paused a moment as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was a mess, there were red sleep marks across his skin, and the dark bags under his eyes could compete against Zitao’s. He could use more sleep, but sleep wasn’t an option anymore. He turned the faucet on before he reached forward to open the medical cabinet.

“Why the port?” Baekhyun asked loudly over the noise to cover the sound of the pill bottle. “Cuz he’s swimming?” he managed to say before swallowing a whole Adderall.

“Of course,” Mama replied back in Korean.

Taking a pill to focus worked differently on him. It didn’t just help him concentrate on the task at hand, it kept his brain from lethargy and drifting to rest. He naturally had a lot of energy in him and was able to stay up for many hours, but adding the pill to the mix kept him alert for longer periods of time. The side effects...Well, he didn’t have much time to care about that.  

After hiding the pills he splashed his face with cold water to fully wake up, and then turned the faucet off. He quickly dried his face before opening the door.

“Why is he swimming? Do you think he was attacked? What if he’s hurt?” He asked quickly as he searched for his boots and pocketed his wallet.

“I don’t think he’d be swimming if he were injured.” She said as she picked out his leather jacket.

“Still, I should take a vial just in case,” he said hunkered down as he put his boots on. “One of the fast healing serums.”

“They’re not ready yet.”

“I thought you said they were?” Baekhyun looked up at her suspiciously.

“The concoction is finished, I just need more tests to make sure it’s completely safe,” she explained.

“It just accelerates tissue regeneration, right? What’s the worst that could happen?” Baekhyun asked as he stood up.

“Over secretion of something else,” Mama shrugged and handed him his jacket.

“Yeah, well, if he’s hurt I can’t just take him to a hospital,” Baekhyun reasoned while he put on his jacket. “So, I’ll need Jongin to be ready to fetch us if anything goes wrong. I’ll text you.”

“I’m afraid Jongin won’t be available for the day.”

“What?”

“He's in the isolation room with Zitao. They’ve been in there all night,” she informed.

Baekhyun closed his eyes as he felt anger sear through his veins. “I told you to not lock them up,” he seethed through clenched teeth.

“I didn’t lock them up. They went inside on their own accord,” she said calmly.

“Then get them out,” he raised his voice as he stormed out of his room and rushed to the laboratory. “You’re not going to make them go through the same you put me through.”

“Baek, it’s not wise to interrupt them,” Mama warned as she followed close behind. “Baekhyun, they’re not locked inside. They can leave whenever they want to,” she insisted. “If you interrupt them while they are trying to enter a sub-dimension -Baekhyun, Baekhyun, listen to me!”

Baekhyun stopped right in front of the isolation room, shocked that Mama had yelled at him. Mama took advantage of his hesitation and stood before him, blocking the way to the door.

“If you interrupt them, they could end up stuck in between dimensions.” Mama warned with severity in her voice. Her eyes were serious and unwavering. “This is not a game. If you barge in right now and interfere with their concentration, they might never come back.”

Baekhyun fisted his hands and stared her down, searching for any indication of a lie with his heat vision. She wasn’t lying.

Baekhyun looked away before he took a step back. He closed his eyes and counted to ten to calm himself down. When he looked back at her, she was still guarding the door.

“Alright,” he spoke calmly. “Stay right here and the second they step out of the room, you text me, okay? I need Jongin to be available.”

“We don’t know if Junmyeon’s hurt,” Mama argued.

“I’m preparing for the worst case scenario. Different options, just like you taught me,” Baekhyun reasoned. “So, stay right here.”

Mama relaxed a bit and nodded. “Alright, I’ll stay right here. Now hurry, you’ve already lost the first train.”

“I’ll catch the next one,” Baekhyun assured and kissed her cheek before bidding goodbye.

He left the hideout as fast as possible, but not before sneaking into the left wing to steal a vial from Mama’s stock.