Chapter Two

rock

/räk/

noun

the solid mineral material forming part of the surface of the earth and other similar planets, exposed on the surface or underlying the soil or oceans.

          Daehyun pushed open one of the large, metal front doors at the entrance of the building. It was nearly half past nine, but Yongguk still sat at the front desk, probably working overtime, typing away on his computer. Daehyun scanned his ID and walked past the receptionist without a second glance, and the second row of doors slid open for him.

          Youngjae, his housemate and self-proclaimed best friend, had been working overtime for the past couple of weeks, usually staying at the office until at least ten at night, long after everyone else usually left. Daehyun didn’t like that so many people were being laid off of work while a good sized handful were being requested to work overtime. In all honestly, he thought that was a stupid thing for the head to do. With enough political persuasion, they could just reveal the actual source of energy. All they’d need was some propaganda and some made up stuff about how the boy wasn’t actually human.

          Except… he was a human. Just a different kind. Daehyun and the other medical staff’s analysis had confirmed that. Except, the “different kind” part seemed undefinable so far. They were working on it. Nobody on his team had been able to find any kind of information on or regarding beings other than themselves, not even in the national archives’ massive index. It seemed like there was a piece missing. Could this boy be one of a kind? Maybe some sort of scientific project that had gone wrong? Or were there more up there, above? Only two people had been sent on the retrieval mission: the scientist who had engineered the conductor detector, and Youngjae, who had been Kim’s right hand man for only two years up until that point.

          Of course, they had both been given special contracts to sign (not like they had a choice, either way), and Youngjae had been prohibited from speaking even a single word in reference to what happened up above while they collected the conductor.

          It wouldn’t be the first time Daehyun had doubted the authorities, and Youngjae’s decision to maintain his position in the company. He had even heard a rumor that the detector’s success had been a complete accident, and that the repercussions and resources that had been “obtained” to create it had been the cause of many deaths within the Lower Northern District, the home of software development.

          Youngjae had always just rolled his eyes when Daehyun told him about theories like that. Daehyun thought Youngjae was too uptight.

          Daehyun’s office was on the fifth floor, with the rest of their tiny medical sector. It was such a bother to have to take the elevator so often, especially because most of the minor injuries he was called to treat, usually just from small accidents with the machinery in maintenance, were on the first floor or in the basement.

          Of course, the supplies available to him in the building was quite limited, but the director had made orders for shipments of more surgical-related things when they brought in the new “generator”. It was required of Daehyun to sedate the boy twice daily, in the morning and at night.

          Youngjae had told him that all the things he would need to complete this procedure were already prepared for him upstairs, so he went straight to the eighth floor. But Daehyun hadn’t been told what it was he’d even be doing. He wrung his hands together as he leaned against the rail in the elevator, his lips nervously. The only things Youngjae had requested he bring were anesthetics, and strong ones, at that. Just from that, Daehyun could deduct that this would be something requiring incisions of some sort. They would never have him put someone under for anything less serious.

          The halls were fully lit, but the floor itself was almost completely silent, minus the hum of machinery, when Daehyun stepped out of the elevator.

          Youngjae was fiddling with the control panel on the wall when Daehyun pushed the door open. He eyed the cart in the middle of the room, next to the coffin-like container that held their new source of electricity.

          “We’re doing it in here?” he asked incredulously.

          Youngjae turned around and approached him. “Would you rather go through all the trouble of detaching him from everything and relocating him, only to bring him back and fix it all after?”

          Daehyun folded his arms across his chest. “This isn’t exactly the most sanitary location,” he said. “It would be worth it not to risk infection.”

          “It’s not that big of a deal,” Youngjae said, eyeing the boy behind the glass. His eyes were closed and his body was still. “Plus, we don’t have time to transport him to the care unit.”

          “What do you mean?” Daehyun raised an eyebrow. “Are we on a timer, or something?” He laughed humorlessly, but Youngjae just rested his hand on the glass before them, above the boy’s face.

          “Something like that.”

          “Oh.” Daehyun quieted at the tone of Youngjae’s voice. He sounded tired.

          “Anyway.” Youngjae cleared his throat. “We have anesthetics prepared, but should we still use them if he’s already unconscious?”

          “Well that depends,” Daehyun said, raising an eyebrow and eyeing Youngjae, “on what I’m doing.”

          “Right, well.” Youngjae drummed his fingers on the glass. “I guess I shouldn’t beat around the bush. Kim wants his vocal chords removed.”

          “Sorry, what?”

          “I said–”

          “I know what you said, idiot, I meant…” Daehyun shook his head. “I can’t do that! Are you kidding? Please tell me this is a joke.”

          Youngjae dropped his eyes.

          “I can’t… I can’t do that!” Daehyun said incredulously in a stage whisper.

          “Daehyun, please, I promised it would be done by morning, and–”

          “No. Find someone else.” He turned around to leave, but Youngjae stopped him by catching his wrist.

          “Daehyun! Do you want to get me fired? Do you want to get yourself fired?”

          “What– no. Why would I–”

          “Because you will if you don’t do this!” Youngjae bit his tongue and let go of Daehyun. “We’d have to leave again. I guess, if we aren’t imprisoned.” He swallowed thickly. “Don’t do this to me, Dae. “

          Daehyun winced at the nickname. “Youngjae, I can’t do this. I don’t even know how, anyway!”

          “You don’t care if I lose my job? Daehyun, we’ll be on the streets again. An opportunity like this doesn’t come more than once!” Youngjae dropped his hand from where it still rested on the glass. “Besides, you don’t even know him. It’s not like it matters…” his voice sounded uneasy even to himself, and he cringed. They both knew that was bull. “He’s not even–”

          “Human?” Daehyun scoffed. “Look at him, of course he’s human! Maybe his hair looks different, maybe his eyes are a weird color, maybe he’s got weird marks on his neck and hands! So what! He’s still a person! He has a name, a family! You know, I have half a mind to break him out of here.”

          “Daehyun, calm down. Stop it. You don’t have a choice; you don’t get a say.”

          Daehyun blinked. “Excuse me?” He narrowed his eyes.

          Youngjae’s voice turned steely. “Fine. If you don’t do it, I’ll have to,” he said.

          “Are you kidding?” Daehyun’s jaw dropped. “You’d end up accidentally killing him!”

          Youngjae rose his eyebrows, and Daehyun’s expression tumbled. His point was clear.

          “Youngjae…”

          “Go put your gloves on. I’ll get him ready.”

          The small digital clock on the dresser read 3 AM.

          Junhong pushed the sheets off his body and sat up, pulling the shirt he had discarded on the foot of his bed over his white tank top. The black sweats he wore to sleep would have to do. Himchan was a light sleeper, and he wouldn’t risk waking him up with the creak of the dresser drawers just to look good.

          To hell if he was going to let someone continue being hurt while he was perfectly capable of doing something about it.

          He left the bedroom without a second glance back at Himchan’s bed, slipping soundlessly into the kitchen and sliding on the boots he had left by the front door. He grabbed his ID from the counter after slipping on a pair of fingerless leather gloves. It would get him in through the back entrance at the engineering sector; he could find his way back up to the eighth floor from there.

          He zipped up his jacket, a plain black thing that used to be Himchan’s, and stepped outside, into the empty street.

          It was dark. The lights were set to their lowest level at night, and he squinted while his eyes dilated to adjust. It certainly would take a while to arrive at his destination. The trains and buses didn’t run at night, so he would have to walk the whole way.

          Junhong had never been to the company after dark, and he had absolutely no idea how up to par the security was. But, again, risking his life was worth saving another, in his eyes. He knew that Himchan was only trying to protect him, to keep what happened to him from happening to Junhong. And maybe it was stupid. Junhong was taking a huge risk on the off-chance that he might help someone he didn’t even know.

          The truth, he supposed, was simply that he had been itching his entire life for something more. Spend his entire life working in some factory, for some big, nameless face of a ruler? Hell no. This was just the excuse he needed to shake things up.

          Not that Himchan needed to know that.

          Okay, so maybe it had been a mistake.

          Crouched behind a wall in front of the looming building, Junhong felt his stomach roll. He had counted ten security guards so far. They each patrolled a different section, walking back and forth, their paths illuminated by several street lamps.

          He would have to run through their blind spots. He would have to run through their blind spots fast enough to scoot along the wall to the back of the building so that he could use his card to get through the back door that led to his sector. It was used by the engineers only, for project protocols, and Junhong was nearly positive they never bothered to put an access timer on it like they did with the more easily accessible locks.

          Oh, god. He his lips and swallowed the lump in his throat, sweat prickling at the back of his neck as he tried to focus. He could totally do this. Yeah.

          He quickly realized that the guards were stationed like a maze, which he actually managed to solve fairly quickly, though, of course, it was possible there were more guards that he couldn’t see from where he was positioned. He’d have to test his luck, and his speed. He just hoped that his smarts and apparently-above-average intelligence could get him back out if–– once he got inside. Even if he did find somebody in there, he would have to get them out and then escape with them, and chances were high that the person would be incapacitated or even unconscious… damn, he should’ve made more of a plan beforehand.

          Oh, well. Winging it had always been his forte. That’s how he had gotten through high school.

          Junhong’s endurance wasn’t what it used to be, he realized while he sprinted almost-silently between the wall and the first blind spot. He pressed himself up against a tall pillar beneath an overhang, still some ways away from the building, just as the blinding white of a flashlight passed over the sidewalk that he had been on only a fraction of a second earlier.

          The next two were easy, and Junhong flashed through them, between the patches of light and darkness, leaping onto the raised front of the patio-like structure that led to the front door and performing what he considered to be an on-par tuck and roll behind a couple of large, stone sculptures.

          Halfway to the second-to-last mapped out checkpoint, there was a loud shout, and Junhong cursed, the noise triggering a million thoughts of panic to race through his mind before he drew a blank and ran. There were heavy footfalls behind him, and he could see his silhouette in front of him, cast by a flashlight on his back.

          He turned a corner, the distance between him and his tracker growing, only to come to a near-screeching halt when he came face to face with another man, this one managing to snatch his arm before he could get out of reach. He struggled against the hold, but the guard dragged him back to the front of the building despite his incessant kicking, and he was joined by another guard in front of the main entrance, who seized Junhong’s opposite elbow.

          The second guard seemed about the say something, his face hard and angry, Junhong thinking about all the ways they could – and most definitely would – punish him, when the door behind them was pushed open.

          “Junhong.”

          Yongguk?

          Junhong twisted around as best he could in the tight grasps of the security guards to see the receptionist he checked in and out with every morning and night leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and one eyebrow raised.

          Junhong tried to say something, but he couldn’t get sound out of his throat. He was ready to beg on his knees for mercy, when Yongguk spoke up again, his quiet voice stilling the guards, who seemed confused, now.

          “Why didn’t you just tell them you were here to meet with me?” Yongguk tilted his head, and then looked towards the second guard. “I’m sorry. He’s with me.”

          “Why was he running, then?” The guard challenged, but he sounded like he believed Yongguk, anyway.

          “Probably because you were chasing him,” Yongguk replied amusedly.

          The guard huffed and let go of Junhong, then looked between the two.

          “Sorry. Go ahead,” he said.

          Junhong gulped and shook rubbed at where the harsh hands had locked around his arms, slowly approaching Yongguk, who silently led him through the lit lobby and into his office and instructed that he sit down.

          Junhong was so lost in his confusion that he didn’t hear when Yongguk spoke to him, he received a nudge to his shoulder.

          “I– sorry, what?” He spluttered quickly, shaking his head in attempt to clear his running mind.

          “I asked you what you’re doing here,” Yongguk repeated himself, and Junhong’s mouth went dry.

          “Um.”

          Yongguk raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his seat, analyzing him carefully. “You took a peek at those reports from this morning, didn’t you?” he asked, but it came out sounding more like a statement.

          Junhong opened his mouth to lie, but Yongguk stopped him, seeming to assume his response.

          “Don’t bother lying to me, Junhong.”

          Yongguk’s stare gave him chills, and he swallowed hard again, his hands clutching the armrests of the chair like they were keeping him alive.

          “Yes,” he wheezed out.

          “And you’re here to investigate.”

          He nodded and clenched his jaw, trying not to shake and refusing to meet Yongguk’s eyes.

          “Good, so you’ll help me, then.”

          Junhong’s head shot up and a garbled, confused noise tumbled out of his mouth loudly.

          “What?”

          Yongguk smiled at him softly. “I’ve been planning this for a few days. It’s just lucky that you happened to show up the same night I was going to actually carry it out.”

          “Carry what out?” Junhong scooched forward in his seat. Was Yongguk implying what he thought he was?

          “The same thing you came here to do, I hope,” Yongguk said, still smiling lightly as he folded his hands across his lap. “I was here when they brought the generator in. They made me swear another oath of secrecy once they noticed that I saw him,” he said thoughtfully. “Kind enough to offer me the alternative of execution, too.”

          “Him?” Could it be true? The company was… using a human life to produce power?

          Yongguk nodded. “I don’t know how they’re doing it, but they’re using him, somehow, and I don’t like it.” He hesitated before continuing. “I could hear him the first few nights. From down here, through the air vents.”

          Junhong shuddered a bit.

          “But he’s gone silent since this evening. I haven’t heard a thing.” Yongguk’s brows knitted together as he said this, like he was thinking hard.

          “You think they moved him?” Junhong asked. “Or…” he hesitated, “or… killed him?”

          “I don’t think so.” Yongguk rested his chin in his palm. “The production of energy hasn’t wavered at all. It would have if they had moved him, because he would need to be disconnected.”

          “And it would’ve stopped altogether had he died,” Junhong finished. “So, what’s your plan?”

          “Well, let’s go over the consequences, first.”

          “I’m aware of the possible repercussions,” Junhong said. “And I’m definitely in.”

          “You trust me?”

          “What do you mean?”

            Yongguk chuckled. “Well, I could always double cross you and turn you in.”

            Junhong frowned and rolled his eyes. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

            “You’re an engineer, right?”

            “Jeez, how many cameras are there in this place?” Junhong moused around on Yongguk’s computer.

            “Just over a hundred,” Yongguk said, leaning over Junhong’s shoulder. “But they’re all linked to the same circuit, so if you can get into that, you can shut them all down at once.”

            “For how long?” Junhong kept his eyes trained on the screen, tapping at the keyboard.

          “Give us half an hour. I’m actually surprised you know how to work all of this,” Yongguk mused.

          “I had to take tons of comp sci classes to get my degree,” Junhong answered distractedly. “Here. I think this is the right one.” He pointed to the screen.

          Yongguk had no idea what any of it meant. “Ah, yes,” he said.

          “Half an hour?” Junhong turned to look at him. “Are you sure about this?”

          Yongguk nodded. “Yes. Do it.”

          It only took a couple minutes for Junhong to decrypt the code, and after that, the cameras went down within seconds.

          “Okay,” he said. “They’re all out, let’s go.”

            “You said you heard the screams.” Yongguk led Junhong out of the office and into the hall. “Where exactly were they coming from?”

            “Uh, the eighth floor, down the hall from the director’s office.”

            “Then that’s where we’re going.” Yongguk punched the up button on the elevator, and the doors slid open.

            “You think it was the same person you saw the other day?” Junhong asked as he stepped inside.

            Yongguk shrugged. “I kind of had figured they’d take him upstairs. It would have been the first place to look, anyway, but yeah. I don’t see another option so far. This is the only lead so I’m going to take it.” There was a brief moment of quiet, only the whirring of the elevator pulling itself up through the floors before he spoke again. “It seems rash and sudden of me, doesn’t it?”

            “It was rash and sudden of me, too,” Junhong said. “My… housemate didn’t want me to go. I tried to explain to him that this could be life or death for whoever’s being hurt up there, but he was worried I’d get in trouble.” He looked at his shoes. “I would’ve, if you hadn’t shown up.”

            Yongguk hummed. “Kim Himchan, right?”

            Junhong looked up, surprised. “How’d you know?”

            Yongguk smiled. “I have access to a lot of information on our employees.” His expression turned to a frown. “I saw that he won’t be working here anymore.”

            “Yeah.” Junhong bit the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know what we’re gonna do. Even if you and I do find someone up there, and then get them out of here, and manage to avoid being caught, would I just… keep coming to work every day?”

            Yongguk opened his mouth to reply, but the elevator dinged. They stepped out into the hallway.

            “This way,” Junhong spoke in a hushed tone. “Are you sure nobody else is here?”

            Yongguk nodded. “I would’ve had to check them in.”

            “Okay.”

            The door hung a bit ajar, light glowing through the crack, and Junhong frowned. “The lights are on?” He mumbled. He looked at Yongguk, who just shrugged, and kept moving, crouching by the opening and peering inside.

            The walls were lined corner to corner in machinery, lights flickering and engines whirring. From each receptacle came a cord, and they all met in a large tangle at the center of the room, plugged into ports all over the sides of a strange, almost table-looking contraption.

            “There’s nobody in here.” Junhong pulled the door the rest of the way open, and slowly walked inside, getting a better view of the metal that clung to the walls, moving closer to inspect it.

            Yongguk immediately rushed to the structure in the middle of the room, and placed his hands on the top, which was made of glass. “Oh, my god,” he muttered.

            Junhong turned around, moving to his side. “What is i– oh.”

            It was like a capsule, the inside of the case hollow, almost like a coffin. The sides, all except the top, were lined in metal plating, wires stretching across almost the entirety of it. But most of the space was taken up by a person – a boy –; the wires ran up and down and across his body, which was from the waist up, only wearing a pair of plain white shorts that just about reached his knees. There was a mask over his face, covering his mouth and nose. Probably oxygen. There was something over his throat that Junhong couldn’t really make out through the glass. A beeping panel on the top of the container flashed red, confusing numbers and figures at him. An IV was stuck in the boy’s– well, no, the man’sarm, and it was probably the only thing keeping him alive.

            “How do we get him out?” Junhong’s fingers skittered frantically over the plastic top, looking for some sort of button or latch.

            “Wait.” Yongguk caught his arm. “I think it needs an authorized fingerprint–”

            As if a blessing (and a curse), suddenly a new voice echoed from outside the door.

            “I dunno, Jae. I feel… gross. I just don’t like it, okay?”

            The two froze, turning in tandem just in time for the door to be pulled open.

            “It’s not like I do, either, but we didn’t have a–”

            The man at the door froze, and Junhong could see another behind him, trying to peek past his arm to see what had cut his sentence off.

            “Yongguk.” The man’s voice came out hard and defensive, much different than the more gentle tone they had heard just before the door had revealed him.

            “What are you doing here? And– wait,” he pointed at Junhong. “Who the hell is this?”

            “Wait, Yongguk? Youngjae, what’s going on? Let me see!” The man who had been behind Youngjae pushed past his arm and entered the room. Before he could say anything, Yongguk spoke up:

            “Why are you two here so late?” he asked.

            “Don’t try to avoid the question,” Youngjae hissed. “I was there when they gave you that oath. You aren’t allowed in here.”

            “You are hurting, no, you are killing an innocent person,” Yongguk shot back.

            “I am doing my job,” Youngjae seethed, his grip tightening on the door handle he was still clutching. “Look. I’ll give you and… this kid… a chance to leave and forget this ever happened.”

            Yongguk rolled his jaw, but before he could speak, the other man, whom he recognized as Jung Daehyun, one of the company’s on-site medics, let out a yelp, and fell to the ground. Junhong stood over him, fist still raised, looking shaky, and staring at his hand like it had surprised him.

            “Daehyun!” Youngjae made to run over, but Junhong stepped in front of the man on the floor, who appeared to be unconscious.

            “Youngjae,” Yongguk warned.

            Youngjae growled. “You know I’m going to be forced to report you. It’s a shame; I did always–”

            His words were cut off with another thunk, Yongguk’s distraction giving Junhong the opportunity to knock him out. He fell, very ungracefully, onto the floor, half of his body resting on Daehyun’s.

            Yongguk grimaced at the two. “We could have tried to reason with them,” he said.

            “There’s no time for that,” Junhong snapped. “You said we need a fingerprint to open this, right?” He tapped Youngjae’s limp hand with the toe of his boot, and Yongguk sighed.

            “Yeah.”

            “You do have a plan for what you were going to do with him once you got him, right?” Yongguk asked as he dropped Youngjae, not very gently, back on top of Daehyun.

            “Uh,” Junhong froze while the top of the chamber slid down with a hiss. “To be honest, I really didn’t think I would get this far, but I guess I just figured I’d… take him home?”

            “Do you live nearby?”

            “A half-hour walk.”

            Yongguk sighed. “I have a car here. I’ll drive you, but then I’ll need to leave immediately. My shift here ends five minutes before the cameras are scheduled to go back on, so they won’t miss me if I’m not here, but…”

            “He’ll report you.”

            “Yeah.”

            “Where will you go?”

            “Don’t worry about that right now. Let’s just get him out of there.”

            “Thank you,” Junhong said, and Yongguk nodded back at him before reaching down to carefully slip the breathing mask off the man’s face.

            They both noticed at the same time.

            “What the––”

            “Whoa!”

            Yongguk set the mask off to the side. “Look at that,” he breathed, leaning further over the side.

            The boy’s– no, the man’s hair was the color of platinum. Long, wavy strands fell over his forehead and into his eyes. His cheeks looked hollow and his face dull of light, but… were those… dots on his face? Junhong squinted. Yes, there were sprinkles of tiny, orange-brown specks all over the boy’s cheeks and nose. What was that?

            “What…” Junhong shook his head. “How is that possible?”

            That wasn’t possible. Everyone had black hair. All hair was black. That was just a fact. Right? And what was with those dots? Why were there marks on his face? Could they be scars? A bunch of tiny, pin-prick like marks seemed unlikely to be scars. His skin had a strange shine to it, even in the dusty light of the stale light of the room; it looked smooth and strong, pulled over thick muscles and tinted a tanner color than he’d ever seen a person with before. There were two symbols Junhong didn’t recognize on the skin of his neck, and ones to match on his hands. How…?

            “Doesn’t matter,” Yongguk said. “We need to hurry.”

            Junhong nodded, and reached down to peel the thick, plastic medical tape that held the IVs to the boy’s arm away, then gently slid the needles out of the vein, only to bite his lip when blood spotted from the tiny wound. “You don’t think they’d have Band-Aids or something in here, do you?” he asked Yongguk, who was working on the straps that held the boy down.

            “Check Daehyun’s bag.” Yongguk nodded in the direction of the passed-out medic, and Junhong turned around, dropping the needles on an empty tray on the nearby counter. Huh. He hadn’t even noticed that the man had a bag over his shoulder. After a minute of rummaging around, he found a roll of gauze and some tape. “I guess this’ll work,” he mumbled to himself.

            “Find anything?” Yongguk asked, finishing with the buckles that held metal around the boy’s wrists and ankles.

            Junhong nodded, and tore a small piece of the gauze from the roll before ripping a strand of the tape with his teeth. He held it in his mouth while he threw the roll of gauze behind him, and folded the piece into a square. He pressed it to the inside of the boy’s elbow, pushing it onto the skin hard with his thumb, then took the tape from his mouth and smoothed it over his arm. It was then that he glanced back up at the boy’s throat, getting a closer look at whatever he’d caught a glance of before. Gauze was wrapped thickly around his neck over a pressurized bandage. He frowned at it and opened his mouth to speak, but Yongguk pulled apart the binding above his chest, and spoke before he could.

            “I think that’s it, except for those…” he gestured to the man’s shoulders.

            “What the hell are those?” Junhong hadn’t even noticed the rows of transmitters stuck into his skin.

            Yongguk frowned at the control panel on the side of the container. He pushed a button.

            Junhong jumped when the transmitters fell slack with a hiss, and he looked over at Yongguk. “What did you do?”

            “Lucky guess?” Yongguk shrugged. “Do you think you can carry him on your back?”

            Sneaking out the back exit was not as difficult as Junhong thought it should be. Security was, apparently, only stationed outside, in the front. There was only one car in the parking lot, and Yongguk led them over to it.

            “Wow.” Junhong had never been in a car before. “This is so cool. Does the engine run the same way as the ones in the buses? How much exhaust does it emit? Are those–”

            “Junhong.” Yongguk slid into the front seat and shoved his keys into the ignition port.

            “Sorry,” Junhong muttered sheepishly, biting his lip. “It’s the engineer in me. I’ve just never actually been in one of these before.”

            “You’ll have to tell me how to get to your house. You’re sure they won’t recognize you, right?”

            Junhong pulled down the mask that covered most of his face. “Yeah. That’s not really a problem.”

            Yongguk nodded. “Good.”

            The ride was fairly quiet, minus the directions Junhong gave to Yongguk every couple minutes. He was in the back of the car, the man they had rescued awkwardly slumped next to him, still unconscious. It was dark, but the occasional window of light that shone through the windows from the few street lamps gave Junhong a few glimpses at his face. His expression looked pained.

            “Is this it?” Yongguk pulled over to the side of the road.

            “Yeah, that’s it.”

            Yongguk stopped the car and got out, opening Junhong’s door for him and helping him get the other man out of the back with him, and settling him over his back again.

            “Do you need me to help you get him inside?” he asked.

            “Yes, please. The keys are in my front pocket.

            A little bit of awkward fumbling later, they were through the door and in the kitchen.

            “Bedroom, on the left,” Junhong wheezed out, trying to keep the man on his back from sliding off. Yongguk opened the door for him, and Junhong stumbled in before half-collapsing on his bed and letting go of the man on his back. He unwound his arms and laid the man on his back so that his head was on the pillow. Yongguk helped Junhong get the sheets out from under his body and drape them over his torso, effectively tucking the man in.

            “There, okay,” Junhong sighed and he patted the man’s chest gently, as if finalizing his comfort. “Now, uh…”

            “Now you tell me why you just put an unconscious person in your bed.”

            Junhong yelped and Yongguk jumped.

            “Oh, , Himchan! You scared me!” Junhong rested a hand over his heart.

            Himchan was sitting cross-legged on his bed across the room, watching them with narrowed eyes. His arms were crossed over his chest. He raised a brow.

            “I need to leave,” Yongguk said suddenly. “They’ll be looking for me.”

            “Wait, where are you gonna go?” Junhong asked.

            “I know somebody in the one of the Lower West districts,” Yongguk said.

            Junhong frowned. “But that’s so far away.”

            Yongguk smiled. “The further the better.”

            “Good point.” Junhong nodded. “You should get going, then. Thank you, again. So much, really. I’d be dead if not for you.”

            “No need to thank me.” Yongguk protested but Junhong still stepped closer and pulled him into a hug.

            “I hope I’ll see you again, soon,” he said when he pulled back.

            “Let’s pray it won’t be in prison,” Yongguk said with a smile as he stepped out of the room. “Here.” He tossed Junhong’s keys back. “See you around.”

            And then he was gone.

            Himchan cleared his throat pointedly, and Junhong turned around slowly to face him.

           “Anyway, explain. Now.”

GOD FORMATTING ON THIS WEBSITE I SWEAR TO HECK

anyway i hope you guys are enjoying this so far. updates for this will be a bit slow just because of the length of each chapter, and the fact that i'm trying to actually go back and do some editing before i post.

i'm not gonna lie tho, the more feedback i get the more i write, so if you want more of this tell me!! this was an issue i had with one of my other WIPs, Blood in the Sand (which is now on hiatus), and i really don't want it to happen to this one, because i actually have a full outline AND a sequel planned.

thank you so much for reading <3

does it feel rushed? i feel like it feels rushed. idk lmao rip. tell me what you think!