Chapter Eight

mag·ma

/ˈmaɡmə/

noun

a mixture of molten rock, volatiles, and solids that is found beneath the surface of the earth.

November 20^th, 5692

After a few minutes of an intense stare-down between himself and Youngjae, Jongup finally decided that the other man probably wasn’t going to try to attack him. He managed to tear his gaze away from him––though not without the occasional glance back up thereon out.

He was still mostly hidden by Junhong, so he put one hand on his shoulder and peered over it, resting his chin on his knuckles. The book that Junhong had laid open in his lap was old. The pages were crinkly and yellowed, darker around the edges, and he could smell the dusty paper already. The map itself was easy enough to understand; in the corner was a fancy compass rose, intricately designed and not unlike the two on Jongup’s neck.

He found their location easily enough. Well, if his figuring that the text labeling a small building “Lower West Textile Medical Practice” was correct. The building must have been old if it was on a map was labeled with traditional characters.

Jongup wasn’t used to maps. He’d never really needed them, because green magic had a way of giving its mages their own internal compasses, but down here, below the surface, Jongup couldn’t feel anything. The absence of the constant thrum of energy beneath his feet was strange and still foreign. He felt cold.

“Can you read it?” Junhong turned toward him, close enough that Jongup could see each individual eyelash. He nodded, still distracted by his own thoughts.

Junhong his lips. “There’s, um…” his eyes fell back to the book, watching as Jongup turned the page, tracing his fingers from line to line. What was he going to say?

After a moment Jongup looked at him, raising an eyebrow. Junhong seemed to shake himself out of his stupor.

“Oh, right. There’s nothing, like, vitally important to our journey and survival in that, is there? Something that might blow this whole entire thing and ruin all of our plans if we don’t know about it?” Junhong chewed on his lower lip.

Jongup shook his head no. It was just a history book. The map was matched with a description of the earliest architecture that had been built in Urbs Equidem, including the building they were in right now. The Lower West district turned out to be the oldest part of the giant city. It had been founded over 200 years ago, in the first spot that had been dug out by those who were now known as the Equids, when they eventually––after several years of debate and political argument and violence––decided to separate from the majority of the population, whom they referred to as “dirty clean-energy-users,” which Jongup honestly found more amusing than anything else he had seen so far. It didn’t surprise him that most of the stuff recorded had quite obviously been written by someone who had been biased against the Altiorans.

This account made them look evil. In Jongup’s opinion, neither the Altiorans nor the Equids were “bad guys” necessarily, but that’s not to say he wasn’t biased toward one or the other, either. Especially after his first experience with the Equids. That hadn’t exactly helped to ease his initial suspicions of the mysterious people.

But looking at those beside him––Junhong and Himchan, not Youngjae––, he almost felt bad for them. They hadn’t even known that the surface was a real place, they were practically held underground against their will without even knowing it wasn’t the only option. They had never been presented with a choice. Okay, so all that probably applied to Youngjae, too. Whatever.

Jongup wasn’t sure how to feel about him. When they first met, Youngjae had claimed that his best interest was in his job. The fact that he had kidnapped and tortured Jongup just to keep a job was nothing short of selfish. Youngjae was nothing short of selfish.

There was still a real risk that he was just faking everything; that he was planning on leading them straight to the ones who were looking for Jongup, and that he would be taken away, back to the power plant where he’d spend the rest of his life screaming silently. He just had to believe in the chance that Youngjae wouldn't.

But Jongup thought that odds of that coming true were low. He was always good at reading people, and Youngjae––selfish as he was––was being genuine about what he wanted. Jongup definitely didn’t blame him for wanting to leave this place. But he did blame him for a few other things. He had quite the list going, in fact.

“So, we just follow the map and hope for the best?” Junhong asked. “Which map? I saw two.” He looked back down at the page Jongup had stopped on, noticing that he wasn’t trailing his fingers over the pages anymore.

“Jongup.” He nudged his shoulder, but Jongup didn’t respond, so Junhong shifted around to face him. He was staring down at the book, still, but obviously not really seeing it. Junhong waved a hand in front of his face, effectively getting his attention. “Which map will lead us through the caves?”

Jongup’s nose scrunched for a moment before he turned back to the book. He flipped a few pages forward, then slide it over to him.

Junhong inspected the map closely, and then decided that he had no idea how maps worked.

"So, Bang Yongguk." Kim Hyunshik pulled out the chair Daehyun had occupied before he was kicked out of the room, and seated himself heavily. He stared at Yongguk for a moment, a look of something like contemplation on his face. His eyes were small but wide, and––had he always had a moustache? Yongguk supposed it was understandable that he hadn’t ever looked at Kim's face long enough to tell.

He kept finding himself surprised whenever the man spoke. His voice was much higher than he thought anyone would assume just from looking at him. He was both tall and sturdy looking, but Yongguk doubted there was much muscle underneath that shiny black suit of his.

"You have an interesting past, I've found." Kim spoke so casually that Yongguk almost didn't even notice what he had said at first. As soon as the words processed he tensed up, making sure to keep his head down, though his eyes had come back to being focused. He did have an interesting past. One that could get him into serious trouble, especially considering his present circumstances.

"All it took was a little digging around, really." Kim dropped his elbow on the table with a heavy thunk and leaned closer. Yongguk kept his gaze locked on the floor.

Kim cleared his throat. "You know, I won't be forgetting that this is your fault anytime soon," he said. "To be honest with you, I considered just throwing you into prison to rot for the rest of your life, but that would be quite boring, don't you think?"

Yongguk took a deep breath and started to count the tiles beneath his feet. Of course it would be boring. You never hear people gushing about how fun and exciting jail was.

"Don't you think?" Kim repeated himself, loudly this time. It was obvious that he was trying to get to Yongguk, but that wouldn't be happening. A fist slammed down on the table right in front of him, but he didn't flinch, and just kept his eyes sealed to the floor. That was 34 tiles, so far.

"Fine," Kim settled back down in his seat, one knee crossed on top of the other. "I had been hoping to build up to this––make it more dramatic and whatnot––but seeing as you are not cooperating, I'm going to be forced to skip a few scenes," Kim declared. There was a loud beat of silence before he continued.

57 tiles.

“I hate to do this Yongguk, I really do," Kim lamented insincerely, "but if you don't cooperate with me I just might be forced to pay you daughter a visit down in the Lower West district."

He's just trying to get to you. He wants a reaction. He wouldn't actually––

"I hear that she doesn't go to school," Kim said. "That they refuse to let her." He drummed his fingers against the table slowly. "Maybe that has to do with the fact that she's a ret––"

"Don't you dare say that word," Yongguk said quietly. "Don't you dare."

Kim reclined in his seat with an easy smile on his face. "Well, it's true," he said. "A person who can't speak won't make it anywhere in life. A person without a voice doesn't belong here; they won't offer us any benefit at all." He paused for a moment. "I might like to clear a bit of space, make room for the new, bigger generations."

Yongguk felt a chill settle over his body in a fine mist.

"And not just your Misun, of course––anybody in Equidem who can't work should be disposed of. I'm actually thinking of submitting a proposal for a new law––you are aware of my position in the House, I assume. It would require those who are deemed unsuitable at birth to be executed. I would set the standards for what makes a child suitable or not, of course, and all of the existing ones would be collected and…"

Yongguk clenched his fists and tightened his jaw, trying to tune the man out as much as he could. What kind of sick game did he think he was playing?

"Were you going to tell me what you need my cooperation for?" he asked, effectively cutting off his ex-boss's rant about all the injustices he claimed the disabled wrought upon the world.

"Ah, I'm glad you asked," Kim said, and then he sighed. "I suppose I'll need to cancel my other plans for now while we take care of this.” Suddenly he leaned forward again, elbows on the table, and Yongguk finally raised his eyes to look him in the face.

“But please keep in mind, Mister Bang, if you go against a single word from my mouth, I will take you with me to that little clinic and take your daughter––and her mother––away from you right before your eyes, and you will feel the helplessness of being so near and yet so far, unable to even lift a finger.” He left.

"Daehyun."

Still jumpy, he flinched when his boss entered the hallway and spoke his name. The man didn't even have to put malice into his tone; it must come completely naturally to him. A born talent, inherited at birth.

"Yes?" He cleared his throat and looked up, trying to make himself seem at least loosely composed.

"What kind of condition was the generator in before it was stolen?”

Daehyun’s brow creased in confusion for a moment before he deciphered what, or, who, rather, exactly it was that his boss referred to. “The––oh.” He hesitated. "That's hard to say." He tried not to look at the eyes of the man standing across from him. "He hadn't been given any actual solid food the entire time––"

"Which was how long?"

"Uh," Daehyun thought back. "About a week?"

Kim nodded. "Go on."

"Well, so, he was also only being kept hydrated by an IV, but once you're off the IV, its effects don't last long unless you get some water right away and keep yourself hydrated on your own," he said. "So… I would assume, because of his dehydration and malnutrition, that his body is pretty much running on fumes. I doubt he was even conscious when they took him."

Kim tapped his chin. "So they would be forced to attend to him medically. It would slow them down."

Daehyun shrugged. "Well, they certainly should, but that doesn't necessarily mean they will. I don't know. It would depend on how far they need to go and what their destination is."

"It would want to go back to the surface," Kim growled, and then he turned around. "Assuming your friend Yoo Youngjae is with it, I know where they're going, and they will make it there."

"Wait!" Daehyun pushed himself off the wall, following Kim as he quickly made his way down the hall. "What if he's not? What if Youngjae didn't go with him?"

"It would end up there eventually." He spat the words out with such distaste that Daehyun winced. What was this man so passionate about?

"We're leaving tonight."

Daehyun stopped. "Wait, what?" He pointed a finger to his chest. "We? As in me? As in us? Where?"

Kim paused but didn't look back at him, only turning his head enough so that his voice would reach Daehyun's ears. "You're my personal assistant now, remember? That means your job is to do what I tell you." Suddenly Kim turned around, and in the blink of an eye he was standing too close, the front of Daehyun's shirt and slamming him against the wall. Daehyun stared with wide eyes as he felt the wind get knocked out of him. Was this guy going to kill him? Was he about to die?

A smile slowly spread across Kim's face. "That means you listen to me," he said, voice low. "And if I hear a word out of your mouth again that isn't "yes, sir," then I will kill your friend Yoo Youngjae the second I see his face, and I will see his face again very soon, I guarantee that."

Daehyun could feel his entire body shaking. He clenched his fists at his sides to still them, and he gulped. "Yes, Sir," he echoed, voice betraying what he had prayed was a calm exterior. Daehyun cursed himself for being so afraid. He should be standing up to this man, giving him a piece of his mind. But that would get him into big trouble, and he couldn't help Youngjae from behind bars.

Kim pulled Daehyun forward and then shoved him back again, not sparing a second glance as he coughed heavily upon impact with the wall.

“A few of my other assistants, as well as Bang Yongguk, will be accompanying us,” Kim announced. "I am going to get my money-maker back," he whispered, leaning closer to Daehyun's ear. "I told you I have a hunch where they’re going, and we’ll be meeting them halfway. That means you are going to help me."

When he pulled back, Daehyun opened his eyes, which he hadn't even realized were squeezed shut, and nodded. “Okay.” If he wasn’t so terrified he surely would have winced at the squeakiness of his voice.

Kim let go of him and continued down the hall, leaving Daehyun to gasp for breath and slump backward.

“Didn’t you say something about getting even with someone? Don’t tell me you really thought I wouldn’t be listening in on your conversation with Bang Yongguk. You don’t need to worry about losing your job, as long as you don’t keep things from me.” A pointed look. “In fact, I’ll let you have the first go at that––oh, what did you call him, tall ? And if you do your job well enough, I might just forget you ever considered hiding things from me for even a moment.” Kim kept talking, but Daehyun didn’t want to listen anymore.

How the hell was he supposed to get out of this?

"How the hell are we supposed to even get in there?" Himchan demanded. There was a building drawn on the map, right in front of the marked entrance to the cave.

"The base is abandoned," Youngjae told him flatly. "It's empty. There's nobody there."

Himchan scoffed. "Well then what is it there for?"

Youngjae shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s probably explained in the book.” He gestured toward Jongup, who nodded his head and pointed to a paragraph on the page.

“Can you rewrite it in simplified?” Youngjae asked, leaning over.

Jongup backed away quickly and shook his head, casting his eyes downward. Junhong narrowed his eyes at Youngjae and shifted a bit to get between them and partially block his view of Jongup.

Youngjae shook his head, trying to recall the few words he had exchanged with Jongup just a week prior. He couldn’t remember what his voice sounded like.

“How are you guys communicating?” he asked, watching closely as Junhong hesitated.

“We… don’t really, exactly,” he said.

“This is a bit of a rushed situation,” Himchan snapped at Youngjae. “We haven’t quite found the time to catch up with each other yet.”

Jongup flipped the page.

“We did ask him to write for us, but he only knows traditional characters,” Junhong explained. “I did study them in school, so I understood bits and pieces. But they never taught us enough for a full sentence, or anything.” He paused. “I also recognized the characters of his name, but we never focused much on names in class, and I don’t think the characters are directly related to any basic roots, so I’m… not sure how I knew…” he trailed off, staring at the wall.

Youngjae caught more dense, word and diagram-filled pages as Jongup flipped through the book from cover to cover. Whatever was written in there, it didn’t seem to surprise him at all. Youngjae wondered if the schools on the surface hadn’t banned less recent history from classes. How much did Jongup know?

How much did they not know?

Youngjae could recall the first time he met Jongup’s eyes clearly. They had been wide and terrified, but that wasn’t what had caught his attention. It had been the sparkling green flecks in them, somehow both bright and deep and the same time. A light color with an immeasurable depth.

He wondered if everyone on the surface had eyes like that, that reflected the land around them with such natural ease.

But looking at Jongup now, there were no rays of sun to refract through his irises; only the stale, dim light from a lonely bulb that dangled from the ceiling reflected hollowly against his eyes, making them look cold and dark, the brilliant emerald green Youngjae had seen before impossible to pick out of the dark, murky brown that had replaced it.

He took a deep breath stepped away from the three seated on the tiny bed.

“So,” he began, effectively startling the others. “The map will be easy enough to follow. I can lead you through the base and the caves no problem with it.”

Himchan still looked unsure, Jongup timid and prodding annoyingly at Youngjae’s heart, but Junhong, at least, seemed determined as he nodded.

“We’ll play it by ear from there,” Youngjae said. “Or we can just go our separate ways once we reach the surface.”

“When are we leaving?” Junhong asked quietly. “And what about the doctor? Can we just… walk out? Do we have to sign stuff or anything before going?”

Youngjae rolled his eyes at the boy’s worries. “No, we just leave, Junhong. As for when, though… what do you guys think?” He turned to Himchan, who rolled his jaw and broke eye contact as soon as it was established.

“We should wait until just an hour or so before the light starts to come back on,” he decided. “That way we can take some time to rest and still have the dark to cover us on the way there.”

Youngjae nodded. He returned to the single chair in the room, which was exceptionally uncomfortable, and sank down in it, leaning his head against the wall and stretching his legs out in front of him with a heavy sigh.

Jongup closed the book and handed it to Junhong, who slipped it into his backpack to sling over the railing at the head of the bed. Himchan reclined back against the railing at the foot of the bed, unfolding his legs so that they rested parallel to Jongup’s. He had already laid back on the single pillow, scooting over as much as he could to make room for Junhong to stretch out, as well, and ending up pinned securely between Himchan’s legs and Junhong’s back.

Youngjae didn’t think he would be getting any sleep, but somebody had to watch the clock, he supposed. He didn’t know how none of the other three seemed concerned about waking up on time.

It wouldn’t be difficult to get through the caves and to the surface itself, but he wouldn’t deny that he was worried about actually getting to the base and through it. He had been telling the truth when he’d said that the building was dormant. It was completely abandoned; it had served its purpose when the people had first begun to excavate the area, over two centuries ago. The building was made of wood, something that most citizens of Equidem would never get to see.

The trouble Youngjae suspected they would have was with the junk yard of a disguise the base was shrouded in. There was no way to get around it and still enter the caves, since the actual entrance to them was in the basement of the building.

Youngjae knew where the entrance was, but navigating through the junk yard had been hard even with another person by his side last time. And now he had committed to being responsible for leading three other people through it. He wondered how much Jongup would slow them down. He wouldn’t need to be carried, would he? Surely at least not all the way. He was certainly looking a bit better than he had been the last time Youngjae had seen him. Then again, the last time Youngjae had seen Jongup, he had been spending most of his time being unconscious.

November 21^st 5692

            True to his prediction, over the next few hours, Youngjae’s eyes closed for nothing more than to blink every now and then. He wrapped his arms around himself as the temperature dropped, and he was certain having three other bodies in the tiny in-patient room helped with insulation, but he still shivered for the first hour or so.

            Junhong, Himchan, and Jongup were all still squished together in the small bed, looking much warmer than Youngjae. Half of him hoped they wouldn’t wake up while they were all unconsciously snuggling closer to each other, and half of him hoped that he might be provided with some brief comic relief in them waking up in awkwardly intimate positions.

            Youngjae was very tired.

Being on his own after spending so many years on the move with Daehyun would take some adjusting, too. The quiet was already bothering him, and he wasn’t even by himself yet. Usually when one of them wouldn’t be able to sleep, they’d stay up together talking until they couldn’t anymore. More often than not they would end up sharing one bed, and Youngjae always faked annoyance at Daehyun’s snoring, but he never pushed him away when he rolled onto his side or kicked him in the leg.

            As the minutes passed, Youngjae watched the three on the bed. Junhong was sleeping like a stone, solid and unmoving. Himchan remained mostly still. He woke up a few times, but never for too long. Jongup moved a lot, but pinned between the other two he stayed in place. Youngjae watched as his arms slowly traveled around Himchan’s legs, one hand curling around his ankle and tugging it against his chest. Youngjae was surprised to see that Himchan was awake as this was happening, watching Jongup silently and making no move to stop him.

            Youngjae frowned and averted his eyes to study the dimly lit floor, instead, and an hour later, he woke up the others.

Junhong grabbed one of Jongup's hands and pulled him closer. "I'm sorry this happened to you," he murmured, "we'll get you back home."

But Jongup was already shaking his head. With his free hand he delivered a poke to Junhong's cheek, which turned out to be far more malleable than he had thought. Skin wasn't supposed to be this soft. Maybe on babies, but Junhong was quite grown. Fascinated by this, he stared, tuning out everything Junhong was saying for choice of his face with the tip of his finger.

Junhong seemed to notice that Jongup wasn't listening, and that his hand had been touching his face for what now officially counted as an awkwardly long amount of time?

As Junhong blinked at him, nonplussed, Jongup decided that in his few days without a voice, he'd never wished for it back so badly to explain himself. Sorry, it's just so soft, he wanted to say. But instead he just mouthed the word sorry, and Junhong didn't really seem to care all that much about the touching. He seemed… almost used to tolerating it. Jongup glanced at Himchan, who was crouched on the floor, going through all of their stuff.

He didn't seem like the touchy type. Then again Jongup didn't even know Himchan's last name. He certainly hadn't minded squeezing into the bed with himself and Junhong last night, but there wasn't really any other option, either. Jongup squinted at him. How was it possible for a person to be so beautiful. If Jongup could put it in words he would say that Himchan was the human embodiment of a waterfall. But his face alone was that of a cougar. A waterfall cougar? That was probably a first in the history of metaphors. It was so easy to compare Himchan to nature, and Jongup was acutely reminded that Himchan didn't know nature. He'd probably never even seen a tree. Jongup was now set on introducing him. Once they got out of this awful, dark place, he would teach them all everything he knew; he would show them every single element of the world that they had never seen, teach them about all of the history they had missed, and tell them––tell them nothing, because he couldn't talk. Right.

When Himchan looked up, Jongup tilted his head to the side, not seeing that he had been noticed as he tried to look at his face from a different angle.

His hand had long since fallen from Junhong's face, and seemed willing to move to a different person's. But that would have to wait, because his name was being called again. He let his focus fall back onto Junhong, who was glancing between him and Himchan with a weird look on his face, as if not sure what Jongup had been so infatuated with.

“Do you feel strong enough to walk?” Junhong was asking him questions. Oh.

Jongup thought about it. He felt better. Tired, but better. He certainly figured he could walk, but the last time he had tried doing that he hadn’t lasted very long.

The doctor had appeared briefly, just long enough to remove the IV in Jongup’s arm and tape a bandage over the tiny wound. Junhong had told her that they would be leaving soon, and she had wished them good luck.

Jongup nodded his head. Yeah, he could walk.

When he stood up, he found himself miraculously lacking in dizziness, and couldn’t help the smile from his face. His body felt stronger. Not his best, but stronger. Slowly he stretched his legs, then his arms, then essentially his whole body. Several joints cracked, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Youngjae cringe at the sound. Good.

Junhong had an arm halfway extended toward him, but Jongup didn’t even stumble. He could make it, he was sure. He would be going back home today. He would go home; they would make it. They had to.

WOMPWOMPIDIDN'TEDITTHIS

so! I hope all the scenes here are in order 'cause, well, I can't say I 100% know that they are or are not… anyway, here we are, the last chapter is up next (let's see how long that'll take me, place your bets now,) and then after that I'll have a postface/preview of part 2 for you!

<3

if ur having a good time pls leave a comment ya boi is in need