Present

I don’t remember it being this overgrown, Junmyeon thinks as he pushes yet another stem out of his way. The path is hardly visible under his feet, but he knows it’s there. And even if it wasn’t, he would have been just fine. He’d been walking this path in his head for hundreds, maybe thousands of times now, after all. If needed, he could probably even find his way even with his eyes closed.

He smiles as he sees the great oak tree, a sign that he was halfway to his destination. It looms over him, stands just as wide and tall and magnificent as he remembers, its leaves shimmering green to golden in the soft sunlight. He can almost imagine the tree greeting him as he brings his hand to rest on its trunk, feeling the rough bark on his palms. He regretfully steps away from the tree. He does not have enough time to be nostalgic. His feet impatiently pull him back to the path.

He trudges on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two years ago

Junmyeon is huffing, crashing through the forest as he tries to pump his legs faster. His lungs feel like they are burning, not quite used to the punishing exertion that he is putting them through. But he doesn’t have a choice. He has to run, to get away.

Earlier that morning, Xiumin had shown him exactly what ruling alongside him meant. “You’re going to love what I have for you today,” he’d told Junmyeon, as if this was just another lesson, another demonstration.

Turned out that it was. Only it taught Junmyeon this: Xiumin is a twisted person who can never be trusted.

Junmyeon would laugh at himself, if he wasn’t struggling to keep air in his lungs. By now, he should have been better at judging people, at telling the bad guys from the good.  But he’s just so damn trusting, so damn gullible. Maybe it was the longing for actual connections with people that got him everytime. And in the world they were living in, who wouldn’t want that?

The entire world was brought into its knees seven years ago. Junmyeon had been ten years old then, when the children started dying of an unknown cause. And after that, the ones who were left behind started manifesting… powers.

Disorder, as the government liked to call it. It seemed to be limited to children who survived whatever killed of the others. They soon categorized the children into five colors: green, blue, yellows, orange and red. The Greens were children who had enhanced intelligence. The Blues had telekinetic abilities. Yellowss can control electricity. Oranges and reds were rare, but they were considered dangerous. Reds ­­­­­­­­­­­can create and manipulate fire. Oranges were mind manipulators: they can compel people to do as they bid, talk into people’s minds. Rumor had it that they can even show illusions.

Regardless of their color, children were brought to the so-called rehabilitation camps. The camps were created for the purpose of "curing" the children of their disease, but what the public did not know was that they really were just prisons: a place for the government to keep and monitor what they have deemed dangerously unknown. 

Society was just skin and bones now. Economy was almost nonexistent, with no children to take over the dwindling workforce. 

 

 

 

Oranges are the most feared by the government. But mostly because Oranges are the only ones who can end them.

Or so Xiumin had said.

Being an Orange himself, Junmyeon’s life for the past seven years has consisted of running: running from the government who wanted all the Oranges dead. Running from bounty hunters who also wanted him dead. Running from fellow children who—no surprise—also wanted him dead. Not that he blamed those kids. Being with an Orange meant they would be in more danger than they already were.

So Junmyeon drifted, from one broken city to another. Always moving at night, only taking what he needed and keeping them in his old canvas backpack. Only using his power when it was absolutely necessary.

Xiumin had seemed like a savior. That’s what he’d called himself, too.

Junmyeon had stumbled into his camp one day, and was captured and bound before he knew what was happening. Scared out of his wits, Junmyeon grabbed the arm of one of his captors.

“Let me go,” Junmyeon said, his eyes flashing a vibrant orange.

“Well, look what we have here,” a voice to the side says. “A fellow Orange.”

Junmyeon’s head snaps up to the source of the sound, and was greeted with a catlike smile from probably the most captivating boy he has ever seen. The kids moved to the sides as the boy made his way towards Junmyeon, and Junmyeon felt his breath catch at the intimidating aura that the boy exuded.

The boy knelt infront of Junmyeon. “You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?” he says as he lifts Junmyeon’s chin with a soft hand. “You can rest easy now. I’m an Orange, too.”

 

It must have been yearning on Xiumin’s side, as well. Yearning for someone who understood him, an equal who can help him achieve his ambitions.

For three months, Junmyeon stayed. For three months, Xiumin taught him how to use his powers more effectively. Every afternoon, they would sit in the middle of the floor of Xiumin’s bedroom, sitting across each other as they explored each other’s minds.

At first it was exhilarating: Junmyeon found a friend and confidant in Xiumin—someone who did not fear him for his abilities. Talks went from casual small talk to conversations about their pasts, about their fears and about their dreams for the future. Junmyeon’s was a small one: to live somewhere peacefully, in a place where he did not have to fear for his life all the time. But Xiumin’s. Xiumin’s dream was of an unbelievable scale.

He wanted to rule the world. “The adults are all insufferable idiots who are breaking the world more than it already is,” he’d told Junmyeon. “It could all be so much better. I can make it much better, Junmyeon. I know I can.”

And Junmyeon believed him. Even empathized with him enough to willingly offer his help.

But all that changed three months later, when Xiumin brought him into one of the empty houses a little ways away from the camp. Inside were two men in suits, sitting on chairs with a dazed look on their faces.

“These are two of the government’s dogs,” Xiumin supplies. “Found them at our borders this morning, no doubt looking for more children to kill.”

He glares at one of the men. The man stands up, as if a switch in him had been pushed. He takes out the gun holstered on his side. It happened way too fast, and Junmyeon could only watch in horror as he shoots the other man and then himself.

Xiumin turned to him then. “I did that, Junmyeon,” he said, eyes shining in awe. “I did that, without even touching them. Can you see? This is how powerful we are, Junmyeon. Imagine what we can do? Together, you and I can end the chaos. We can end all the misery.”

Suddenly it all made sense. Hadn’t there been a lot of signs leading to this? Xiumin never told him about his plans, never elaborated on how exactly he was going to “change the world”.

Horror spread through Junmyeon like ice, gripping his heart and suffocating his lungs. But he twisted his face into a small smile. “You’re right,” he says as the taste of bile invades his throat. “We can do it, XIumin. Together.”

 

And that night, he runs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Present

The sky is turning dark, and for the first time in a long time, Junmyeon hears birds singing. He tries to imagine that they are bidding him good night as he pulls out his sleeping bag. He does not dare light a fire. The world wasn’t as dangerous as it was two years ago, but he supposes one could never be too careful.

Instead, he lights his small gas lantern. It provides his tent with a soft glow, not too bight but enough to read a book by. He fishes out a package from his pack, wrapped in one of his shirts. He carefully peels off the cloth and the yellow cover greets him. Smiling, he shifts into a more comfortable position and reads.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two years ago

Junmyeon’s vision was starting to get blurry.

He’d eaten the last of his crackers two days ago, and the water in his canteen was dangerously low. He’s been running for months now, hardly ever stopping for fear of being found by Xiumin again. He only rested at night, and even then he only slept for five hours, tops. He would spend a long time making sure he was completely hidden from sight, and when he woke up he would painstakingly remove traces of himself from that particular place. Xiumin was smart, therefore Junmyeon had to be smarter—and twice more careful.

Going into this forest, however, had been a mistake.

Junmyeon must have read his map wrong: he was supposed to have reached a city two days ago. But all around him it was all just trees, trees, and even more trees. He was hopelessly lost. And with his supplies having run out, he was definitely going to die soon if he didn’t make it out in a day.

Just a little bit more, he tells himself. One foot infront of the other, Junmyeon. Keep going.

He manages to keep himself walking for a couple more hours. He stops in his tracks as he sees a small house not far from where he was standing. There was smoke coming out from its chimney, and were those actual chickens running around? There is a boy chasing them, but stops when he notices Junmyeon. I must be hallucinating, he thinks to himself as another wave of nausea hits him.

He hears a voice cry out as he falls to the ground.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Oh, good you’re not dead,” a cheerful voice greets Junmyeon as he opens his eyes. A face appears above him and Junmyeon’s cry of surprise gets stuck in his throat as his hazy mind struggles to catch up. It was the boy he’d seen before, but seeing him much closer was doing things to Junmyeon’s chest. He could feel a fluttering in his stomach as he stares at the boy’s doe eyes and thick brown hair that was combed well but seemed to have been cut messily. He sits back on his chair and regards Junmyeon with a look of curiosity. “You can talk, right?” he asks.

Junmyeon nods and sits up.

“Good!” the boys grins. “I’m Luhan. You are?”

“J-Junmyeon,” came the half-whispered reply.

“Nice to meet you, Junmyeon. How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

Luhan hums. “I’m only a year older than you, then. Funny. I thought you were much younger, given how small and scrawny you are. And in case you’re wondering, I lifted you here after you fainted.”

Junmyeon winced. “I wasn’t too heavy, was I?”

Luhan snorted. “I wouldn’t know. I lifted you with my mind.”

“You’re a Blue?” Junmyeon almost exclaims.

Instead of replying, Luhan holds out his hand towards the table behind him and levitates a glass of water towards them. The glass reaches his hand, and the water slights sloshes. He hands it to Junmyeon, who takes it gratefully.

“I don’t know why that surprises you, “Luhan says as he watches Junmyeon gulp down the water in mouthfuls. “All the remaining kids in the world have powers.”

“I know,” Junmyeon says, holding the empty glass by his stomach. "It’s just that I… haven’t seen anyone in a while--children or adults.”

“Oh? How come?”

“…I’d rather not say.”

“You’re not running from anyone, are you?”

Junmyeon grips the blanket at his sides.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Who are you running from?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“What’s your color, then?”

“I—I’m a Green.” But the way Junmyeon’s voice wavers is telling.

Luhan raises an eyebrow. “You’re full of secrets, aren’t you.”

He stands up from his chair and stares at Junmyeon for a while, as if trying to figure him out. He shrugs. “Ya know what, to it,” he says. “Doing this will probably get me killed, but somehow I feel like I can trust you. You can tell me about yourself when you’re ready. Until then, I guess I’ll just appreciate the company.” He holds out a hand for Junmyeon. “Are you hungry? I made us dinner.”

Junmyeon’s stomach answers for him with a growl.

Luhan bursts out laughing. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dinner was rabbit stew, which Luhan said he’d hunted himself. Junmyeon found that a little hard to believe, given how soft Luhan looked. He was so pale, almost as pale as Junmyeon himself. He was only a little taller than Junmyeon, with a slender but firm figure. At some angles Junmyeon could swear Luhan was a girl, a thought that he decided to keep to himself.

The stew was amazing, however, and pacing himself was difficult for Junmyeon. This was the first meal he has had in days, and his stomach was begging him to chew faster, swallow down more, more more. Luhan seemed aware of this, and wordlessly refills Junmyeon’s bowl.

It starts to grow dark, and Luhan stands up from his seat to light a small gas lantern. Junmyeon looks up from his third bowl and properly takes in the house he was in.

It was really just one room, with the bed taking up one corner and the dining table at the other end. Beside bed was a fireplace, and infront of that was a small carpet and an armchair. It looked like a cozy spot, and Junmyeon is reminded of his grandmother’s house from before. He can almost imagine himself curling up on the carpet, a fairytale book in hand to take him to faraway lands.

He doesn’t notice the tear spill from his eye.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Luhan asks, alarmed. 

Junmyeon shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Just remembering things from the past, that’s all.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon spends the first three days in Luhan’s bed. He was still too weak from the accumulated fatigue and near-starvation, and it took a while to recover. Luhan was gracious about the whole thing, dismissing Junmyeon when he offered to sleep on the floor instead.

“Just sleep on the damn bed, if you say one more word about sleeping on the floor I’m going to sic one of my chickens at you,” Luhan warns.

Junmyeon laughs in disbelief, but the evil grin on Luhan’s face makes him shut up. He does not bring the matter up again, for fear of a feathery assault.

For a while, all Junmyeon does is sleep, and in between, Luhan would fill him up with various foods. Usually, it’s stew of some kind, depending on what he’d managed to catch. Sometimes it was soup with some homemade bread. The bread was a little dry, but Junmyeon was not complaining. Luhan would then tell him about his day. Luhan was always talking, always flooding with stories he was itching to tell. He must have been longing for someone to talk to, Junmyeon realizes. Not that he minded. It’s been a long time since he’s had someone to talk to as well. He loved listening to Luhan’s boisterous storytelling, his voice chasing away the suffocating silence that engulfed the world.

“Why don’t you just use your power?” Junmyeon finds himself asking when Luhan tells another tale about hunting with his bow and arrows. “Wouldn’t that be easier?”

Luhan sighs. “You sweet summer child,” he clicks his tongue. “You don’t know anything about hunting, do you? It’s all about the chase, the thrill that you get once you catch your prey. Use my power? I might as well buy my food at a supermarket then. Not that that’s an option either.”

“But that also means you won’t always catch something everytime,” Junmyeon argues.

“And that’s the way it should be,” Luhan says. “With how messed up the world is right now, a dose of normalcy from time to time will keep us all from going insane.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Present

Junmyeon wakes up with a jolt. The Long Winter lays on his chest, still open at the last page he’d remembered reading last night. He glances at his lantern and sighs with relief. At least he remembered to turn it off before sleeping.

He closes the book and rewraps it in his old shirt before putting it back in his pack. After a quick breakfast of stale bread and water, he stands up. He still has a long way to go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two years ago

“I found this place when I was fourteen,” Luhan tells Junmyeon as they were gathering firewood. Junmyeon had finally been able to stand without getting nauseous a couple of days ago so he started helping out with chores. Luhan would not take him hunting, however, saying that Junmyeon was too loud. “I don’t know who lived in here before, but it was abandoned by the time I came here. I was pretty lucky, I guess. A couple of repairs here and there, and the house was good as new.”

“And the chickens?” Junmyeon asks.

Luhan snorts. “I snagged ‘em from a bounty hunter’s house after knocking him out,” he says. “The idiot actually brought me home so he could show me off to his wife. Me. A Blue that he didn’t even think to tie up. That was some Class-A stupidity right there.”

He went on, mimicking the bounty hunter and his wife, tickling a laughter out of Junmyeon in the process. “And on my way out, I saw the chickens and I thought, ‘hey, who doesn’t need chickens’ so I lifted all ten of them into a sack.”

“What happened to the ‘thrill of hunting’?” Junmyeon teases.

Luhan throws a stick at him. “You try chasing around ten chickens and let’s see how long it takes till you’re hollering for a Blue to help you.”

Junmyeon laughs again, and this time Luhan joins in.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

That night, Luhan shows him his secret stash of books.

“The Little House Books!” Junmyeon exclaims, reaching out for one. “I can’t believe it. My grandmother used to read me these!”

Luhan scratches at his neck. “I happened to run into a bookstore at a nearby abandoned city,” he explains. “I’m not sure why I grabbed this series in particular, but I’m glad I did. They’re nice stories. Helped me out a lot when it got too quiet around here.”

Junmyeon looked at Luhan. He imagined him, tucked into his armchair on a winter night, chasing away the loneliness with a book. The image pulls at his heart.

He raises the book and smiles at Luhan. “Want me to read it to you?”

The night ends with two figures, next to each other in front of the fireplace. Words of a long-gone age from a long-gone girl float through the walls, bending into a lullaby that sings them to sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Present

 

Junmyeon glares at the river before him. How did he even make it across before?

Oh, right. Through sheer, utter desperation.

There was no adrenaline rush now to help him.

Being a Blue would be such a helpful thing right now, he thinks.

With a resolute face. He takes his bag off so he can carry it above his head with his hands, and starts to make his way across.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two years ago

“I have something to show you,” Luhan tells Junmyeon as he pulls him along one day.

“See that?” he points to a rocky formation at the peak of a hill infront of them. “You can’t climb to that part by yourself. Not without special equipment and mad skills.”

“Why do I feel nervous about this?” Junmyeom mutters.

“But guess what? When you’re a Blue, you don’t need any of that,” Luhan continues, ignoring his companion’s concern. “When you’re a Blue, you can just lift yourself up places that nobody can even dream of reaching!”

“Luhan, no,” Junmyeon warns.

“Luhan, yes,” Luhan grins, and starts lifting himself and Junmyeon off the ground.

Ignoring Junmyeon’s shrieks and wails, the other concentrates on lifting them to the rocks, several hundreds of meters from the ground. He lets himself land on the rock first, and then uses his power to coax the airborne Junmyeon to him.

Junmyeon latches onto Luhan, clasping his arms around him like a koala for fear of falling.

“Calm down, grandpa,” Luhan laughs into his ear, but rubs a comforting hand up Junmyeon’s back. “I won’t let you fall, I promise.”

Junmyeon only whines in response.

“Come on, Junmyeon, I brought you here so you can see the view, not my chest.” Luhan pauses. “Well, my chest is as good a view as anything, but—“

He receives a punch to his side.

“Ow!” he grunts, laughing. “I’m serious, though. Look at the view, Junmyeon.”

Junmyeon finally relents, and his breath is effectively taken away by the sight before him.

He gazed at the vast expanse of greenness before him: the smooth and rough curves of mountains covered with numerous trees, now and then punctuated by the gray of rocks. The highest peaks kiss the low lying clouds, and it momentarily makes Junmyeon regret that they weren’t standing somewhere higher up.

“The sky always looks different from up here,” Luhan tells him in a soft voice. “It’s not really blue, see? I can never name its color.”

Junmyeon purses his lips in thought. 

“Periwinkle,” he soon supplies as he stares at the sky.

“Periwinkle?” Luhan repeats. “Like the flower?”

“Yeah. Like the flower.”

Luhan nods. “I’ll make sure to remember that, then.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A puppy wanders into their clearing.

It is Junmyeon who hears its cries in the middle of the night, and it is he who seeks it out. Luhan stays at the door, shouting after Junmyeon about ghosts that pretend they’re cute puppies so they can lure you to your death. He swallows his words later when Junmyeon finally emerges, with a scared puppy in his arms.

Luhan positively melts at the cute sight.

“Let’s name him Tan,” he suggests to Junmyeon as they watch the puppy greedily lap up milk from its bowl.

“Why not Ghost?” Junmyeon smirks.

He receives a shoe to his face as a reply.

 

 

That night, for the first time, Luhan sleeps beside Junmyeon in the small bed.

“Ghosts,” was all he offered as an excuse.

Junmyeon grins, not commenting on the arms that wrap around his waist and the solid warmth that covers his back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The days grow colder as autumn creeps in. They start spending more and more time indoors, drinking hot tea and reading. Sometimes, Luhan would tell Junmyeon about how big his family used to be, how he had four brothers that he’d always fought with. Their eldest liked singing a lot, and made them all promise to start up a band with him. Junmyeon held his hand as Luhan teared up, remembering that he wasn’t that nice to all of them before they’d all died to the sickness.

Sometimes it was Junmyeon who told stories. He would tell Luhan about his grandmother, how she used to bake him pies and read him fairy tales until he fell asleep. Sometimes he thinks he is on the verge of telling Luhan the truth about himself, but something always stops him. 

 

"Junmyeon," Luhan tells him one time. " You know that whatever color you are, I wouldn't care, right?"

Startled, Junmyeon can only stare at Luhan.

"You can be a Red for all I care," he continues. "Or an Orange. Or a Yellow, I don't care. You'll still be my friend. And I'm not pressuring you or anything okay? I'm just, you know, putting it out there. In case you're scared I'll sell you out to some bounty hunter or something. Which I definitely won't. I'd rather swim in chicken poop than deal with those bastards."

Junmyeon smiles, despite himself. "Thank you, Luhan," he says. "And I'm sorry I can't tell you yet. It's just... It's better this way. Safer." Safer for Luhan or safer for you? 

There is a hint of disappointment in Luhan's eyes, but it is soon buried under a comforting smile. 

The problem was, Junmyeon wasn't hung up on his color. No. Junmyeon was not ashamed nor scared of it. What he was terrified of was telling Luhan that with all the power he had, Junmyeon had run away. Had turned his back on his responsibility. Had left the world to the mercy of a psychopath.

 

 Coward, his mind hisses.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Luhan whispers one night, caressing Junmyeon’s hair as he stares into his eyes. “I can’t imagine how I lived by myself before, can you believe that? I spent four years here, alone. I was just fine. But not that you’re here I’m so scared that I might lose you someday.”

“You won’t,” Junmyeon assures him as he hugs Luhan tighter. “I won’t leave you. And for the record, I’m so glad that I’m here too.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon shouldn’t have made promises that he couldn’t keep.

 

Luhan could not be stopped from making his usual supply run to the city. “It’s almost winter, Junmyeon, and we need supplies,” Luhan argued. “I can only hunt and store so much. We need canned stuff, grains and . I know a grocery store that still has those, I even hid the entrance real well so no one else can get in.”

Seeing that Luhan will not be stopped, Junmyeon opted instead to go with him.

The trek through the forest took two hours, and it took another hour until the city came into view. The city was like a maze, with its dilapidated buildings and debris blocking the streets here and there. But Luhan navigated his way through it pretty easily. He soon led Junmyeon into his secret grocery store, grinning brightly as he waves him through shelves upon shelves of food.

They pack as much as they can into their bags, and Luhan uses his power to move various debris and cover the entrance. They were on their way out of the city when Junmyeon’s luck finally ran out.

 

“Hello again, Junmyeon,” Xiumin greets, and a blow to the back of his head sends Junmyeon tumbling into darkness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon wakes up to an insistent ringing in his ears.

“—myeon. Junmyeon!”

Luhan’s voice snaps him awake, and Junmyeon scrambles into a sitting position.

“Whoa there.” Arms wrap around Junmyeon and stops him from standing. “They hit your head pretty hard, you know. You shouldn’t move around that much.”

Junmyeon feels his stomach turn as he recognizes the voice.

“Xiumin,” he grits out.

“Now, now, what’s with the cold reception, Junnie?” Xiumin mocks. “We’re finally reunited after so long, and this is how you treat me?”

“What do you want?”

“I told you what I wanted half a year ago, Junmyeon.”

Junmyeon turns to him in anger. “Why?” he demands. “Why does it have to be me?”

“Because you and I are the only ones left.” Xiumin cups Junmyeon’s face in his hands. “You are the only one who can understand, the only one who can help me.”

Junmyeon sees vulnerability flash through his captor’s eyes. For a second, Xiumin actually looked like his age: eighteen—innocent and scared. The show of weakness is over in a second, but Junmyeon saw enough. Xiumin, with all the soldiers around him and all the power he held, was lonely. Lonely, just like everybody else.

And Junmyeon understood.

 

“Understanding your prey is the most effective way of hunting them,” Luhan had told Junmyeon on one of the rare times he’d taken him along for hunting. “What does it eat? What does it need? Where does it get those? Why does it go there, not here? Why does it do what it does? Once you know those things, you can anticipate it. And when you can anticipate it, you can kill it.”

 

All the noises disappear, and suddenly all Junmyeon could see was the picture in his head. 

Xiumin. 

Prey.

Arrow.

Eyes.

Xiumin.

Arrow.

Children.

Luhan.

Books.

Coward.

Xiumin.

Xiumin.

Luhan.

Luhan.

Luhan.

Luhan.

 

 

 

Orange.

 

 

 

 

“Get your filthy hands off of Junmyeon!” Luhan shouts, dispelling the moment. Junmyeon feels himself being pulled away from Xiumin, before the force stops abruptly. He snaps his head towards Luhan, who seems to have been frozen still.

“What did you do?!” he shouts at Xiumin.

“I merely made him stop interfering,” he says simply. He then regards Junmyeon with a cold glare. “I looked through his memories, Junmyeon. And I don’t like what I saw.”

“It’s none of your business—“Junmyeon starts saying before Xiumin grabs his jaw.

“It IS my business, Junmyeon, because you’re mine,” he hisses. “And do you know what I do with people who steal what’s mine? I make them kill themselves.”

He forces Junmyeon to look at Luhan. “Do you know what I can do to him?” he whispers. “I can tell him to go drown himself. I can tell him to use his power to lift up a gun and shoot himself in the head. I can tell him to lock himself up in a room and just sit there until he dies. I can make it so he knows what’s happening, but he won’t be able to do anything. He’ll be trapped inside his own head, his body slowly and painfully withering away as he starves to death…”

“Stop it,” Junmyeon gasps through his tears. “Please.”

“Then come with me. Come back to me, and I’ll let him go.”

“How do I know you won’t secretly have him killed?”

“You can read my mind, Junnie. You know I won’t be able to keep a secret from you.”

Xiumin releases Luhan from his power. “I always keep my promises. You know that, don’t you, Junnie?”

Junmyeon glares at him, but sees the truth in his words. He looks back at Luhan, who was struggling back to his feet. He pictures the house—their house—in that quaint little forest, the pretty little chimney and the warm bed, the stack of books and the ever-noisy chickens. If he’d known that he was seeing it for the last time this morning, he would have taken something with him to remember it by.

“I’ll go with you,” he announces.

“Junmyeon, no!” Luhan shouts.

“I knew you would make the right decision,” Xiumin says at the same time. “But you know that it doesn’t stop there, don’t you? He will try to come after us, he will try to save you.” 

“I’ll take care of him,” Junmyeon says, getting to his feet.

“You will do it properly, won’t you?” Xiumin queries. “You know I’ll check his memories.”

Junmyeon does not give him an answer. Instead, he kneels infront of Luhan so that they are eye to eye.

“Junmyeon, whatever it was that he told you to do, don’t do it,” Luhan begs. “We can figure this out.”

Shaking his head, Junmyeon brings his hands up to cup Luhan’s face. His fingers trace over his eyes, his cheeks, his jaw, his lips that always curved into the naughtiest grins. He tries to memorize every facet, every detail. 

“You know how I feel about you, right?” he asks with a shaking voice.

Luhan nods.

“And I know you feel the same way,” Junmyeon continues. “But right now, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

Luhan frowns in confusion, but gives another nod.

Junmyeon looks deep into Luhan’s eyes, and the other’s memories play out to him like scenes from a tv screen. Junmyeon winds back through six months of memories, and starts doing something that Xiumin was never able to accomplish, no matter how much Junmyeon tried to teach him.

“You will forget about me,” Junmyeon tells Luhan as tears fall from his eyes. “You will go back home. You won’t recognize my face, my voice, my name. You will sleep as soon as you get home, and when you wake up, you will remember this as just one of your usual supply runs. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. And you will go through your days as you have been doing all these years…”

 

Junmyeon goes through Luhan’s memories, and starts erasing himself.

 

The boy who faints infront of Luhan’s house disappears.

The boy who reads him stories disappears.

No one sits with him on the cliff, no one argues with him on what to name Tan, no one crashes into his peaceful, solitary life.

 

Luhan blinks as his last memories of Junmyeon fades into nothingness.

He stares at Junmyeon, and then slowly gets to his feet. He picks up his backpack from where it was discarded on the ground and starts walking away.

Xiumin steps infront of him, checking just in case Junmyeon did not do as promised. He must have been satisfied, as he steps aside. “Let him through,” he commands, and his followers part to make way for Luhan.

Junmyeon watches as the lone figure walks farther and farther away, never looking back.

“Come, Junmyeon,” Xiumin bids. “You and I have a lot to do.”

Indeed, Junmyeon thinks, putting up barriers in his mind—invisible walls that Xiumin will never be allowed to see through.

He spares one last glance at Luhan’s fading outline and makes a silent promise to himself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Present

Junmyeon looks up at the rocky cliff. He smiles to himself as he remembers trembling at its peak. He wonders if the view from up there was the same, if he still liked going up there by himself.

Junmyeon shakes his head. Of course he did. He’d told him to do that, after all, to live as he did before he ever met Junmyeon.

Right now Junmyeon can only pray that he was still there, that he had stayed there even after all this time. Because that was the one thing Junmyeon made sure that Luhan would have: his free will.

He wasn’t even sure if Luhan was ali—No, Junmyeon denies. He is definitely alive.

He looks resolutely up the path that he has to take.

Please be there, Junmyeon silently prays as he continues walking.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A year ago

Junmyeon had had to watch at the sidelines, seemingly powerless as Xiumin did as he wanted.

Seemingly.

In truth, Junmyeon had always known. Had always been able to tell that he was more powerful than Xiumin was, more capable of countless things that Xiumin could not even dream of. Throughout their “lessons” and trainings, Junmyeon listed off one by one the things he could do that Xiumin couldn’t.

Xiumin could not erase people’s memories.

Xiumin could not influence people’s emotions.

Xiumin could not show illusions.

And best of all, Xiumin could not see through Junmyeon’s memories unless Junmyeon allowed him to.

As he stayed beside Xiumin, Junmyeon learned. And learned some more until he understood. Until he could anticipate.

It took a lot of time, but when he finally deemed himself powerful enough, Junmyeon started planting seeds.

For every important person, for every government leader that they met, Junmyeon planted ideas, whispered thoughts.

 

These rehabilitation camps are not helpful at all.

 

The world needs children, it will die without them.

 

Maybe these children can bring more good than harm.

 

With their abilities, these children can help rebuild the world.

 

And as for the last seed, he corners Xiumin.

“Sleep,” Junmyeon commands, and Xiumin falls to the ground. Junmyeon touches his head, and sifts through the memories. It was painstakingly slow, but he alters as much as he can, leaving little to chance. Xiumin was right when he’d said that he could change the world. But he will be changing it in Junmyeon’s terms.

“You won’t remember a thing about Kim Junmyeon,” he whispers into the sleeping figure. “You are a good person. It’s your dream to see a world where children are part of the society once again. You will do whatever it takes to achieve this, but you will never hurt anyone in the process. You will use your power not to harm, but to help. You will fight anyone who abuses their power, be it an adult or a child. You will be this world’s guardian. You will end the chaos. You will end the misery.”

 

Xiumin mumbles in his sleep, and Junmyeon stands. He still had Xiumin’s army to influence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Present

After months of making his way back, Junmyeon finally sees it.

The roof looks tattered yet solid as ever, the chicken coop lies empty as always. Infront of the house, a boy sits with his eyes trained on the sky. Beside him was a dog with golden fur, whose nose picks up Junmyeon’s scent. The dog looks around when it sees Junmyeon. It knows this human, but at the same time it doesn’t. It lets out a confused bark.

The boy brings down his gaze from the sky and bristles as he sees the stranger before him.

“Who are you?” Luhan demands. “Stay where you are!”

But Junmyeon is not listening. No, he cannot bring himself to listen as his eyes fill with tears. He was here. He was alive. And he had stayed. Luhan had stayed.

He takes one step, and another, not minding as Luhan continues to shout warnings and starts to raise his hands in defense. But before Luhan can use his power, Junmyeon utters one word.

 

 

“Luhan.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You will forget about me.

 

 

You will go back home. You won’t recognize my face, my voice, my name. You will sleep as soon as you get home, and when you wake up, you will remember this as just one of your usual supply runs. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. And you will go through your days as you have been doing all these years…

 

 

 

But when I call your name, your memories will come back.

 

 

And you will remember who I am.”