Jongin was ten when the raid took place. He had been asleep in his bed, warm and comfortable, snuggled up against Baekhyun’s back, his feet always brushing against his. Up until that night it had never occurred to him how precious safety was. It was like food and water and freedom — given, a birthright. When taken, it seemed the very walls of his room collapsed; the roof vanished, and he was left alone, exposed and vulnerable.

Baekhyun woke him up, shaking him vigorously. “Jongin, wake up! Wake up! I need you to get up RIGHT NOW, Jongin!”

He was a very deep sleeper, and had the habit of falling back asleep in favor of pretty much anything. But the urgent and scared voice of Baekhyun, that he had never heard before, launched right into him and settled on the pit of his stomach, where it grew heavy.

“What’s going on? Is there fire?”

Baekhyun shushed him. “Someone’s inside,” he whispered. “Jongin, I want you to teleport, okay? Teleport to our school, it will be empty now. Then, go to Minseok hyung’s house, they’ll take care of you. Tell them we were attacked, and that we need help.”

Jongin couldn’t speak. Something was lodged in his throat. Something thick and painful. His vision was blurred by his tears, and he shook his head.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, Jongin,” Baekhyun hugged him tightly, patting his back, and kissing his neck. “I know you can do it, and you need to do it right now, okay? Please, Jongin?”

“O-okay,” Jongin wiped his eyes, but the tears didn’t stop, and continued to flow mercilessly. “I’ll take you with me,” he declared. “I know I’ve never tried teleporting that far with someone, but I can do it — with you, I can do it.”

Baekhyun smiled and brushed Jongin’s hair, gently caressing.

“Jongin, we need help. But we can’t call for help if we’re both … taken. You must go now, before it’s too late.”

But Jongin had already started trying. He closed his eyes and concentrated harder than he ever had, even more than the time he was promised his favorite cake, at the age of five, if he managed to teleport inside the practice hoop before the day ended.

He didn’t know who was inside, or what they wanted. What he did know was that they were not welcome, and Baekhyun was afraid of them. He knew he needed to take Baekhyun with him, to their school, and then to Minseok’s home, where they would get help.

No matter how much Jongin pushed, the door was too heavy. No matter how hard he pulled, the door remained closed. Jongin tried again, willing his body to carry on Baekhyun’s.

He was brought back to the sound of screaming and people’s footsteps thundering —their reality— by Baekhyun’s kisses on his cheek.

“You must go, now.” Baekhyun said firmly. “For me, Jongin.”

Jongin nodded and shakily got up to his feet. “But … what about you? Maybe if you run now —”

“I’ll fight them,” Baekhyun had answered carelessly, as if he was being brave about facing a teacher without doing his homework.

Their room’s door was kicked open, and a tall man emerged fully equipped to fight. He was wearing a black battle uniform, not unlike the ones Jongin had seen their own soldiers wear, and was holding a big gun, which was pointed at them.

He raised a finger and gestured at them to come forward.

Someone cursed behind him, and Jongin heard the sickening sound of a bone breaking. Through the open door, behind the stranger, they saw a tiny body in a white nightdress getting dragged on the floor. They hadn’t even the decency to lift her up.

Baekhyun was on his feet too. “Jongin, please,” he whispered.

The stranger shouted something at them, and aimed his gun at Baekhyun.

“We’ll meet again,” Jongin whispered.

“We will,” Baekhyun had promised. “I won’t forget you, Jongin. Now, GO!”

Jongin knew better than to look at him straight, as Baekhyun shouted and was engulfed in a fiery light, he closed his eyes and let his body plunge into the void.

Ten years had passed, and a lot had happened as the time ticked and tocked. Jongin grew up. He learned that it was the Blue Moon’s soldiers who had come to catch the kids with special abilities. His own kingdom, the Red Sun, had declared a war on them not a week after. A total of twenty four children were taken that night.

Jongin’s training hours were doubled, tripled, and then it was the only thing he did except when he wasn’t on a mission, or sleeping.

His days started with a run followed by an hour of strength training. Then he was to have his breakfast before his classes started. History, math, and languages were highly important. He also had observation classes, where he learned to read all the languages that didn’t have a single word. Guns, knives, swords, arrows, staff, spears — he was taught to use them all. Combat classes were brutal and left him with many nights where he stifled himself with a pillow in his face, so that nobody would hear him cry.

Then came his specialty: Teleportation. Gone were the little hoops and the promises of his favorite cake. He learned to teleport with his puppy first, and then with another kid. The distance was pushed forward everyday, not a single day he was allowed to stay where he had been the day before. Even if the change was tiny, Jongin was to be better than he was yesterday, than he was an hour ago. The hardest one was to teleport in midair. It would be highly useful — there was no doubt. If he mastered it, he didn’t need a parachute when he jumped off the plane. He could catch his teammates if they were falling, he could escape from anywhere, even if he was cornered to the top of the world.

So Jongin practiced until his body went cold and he fainted while in the air. He paid the price with a broken arm and a shattered hip, but they stitched him up, and the abnormal speed and ways with which people like him healed, he was ready to go at full speed in a matter of a week.

Jongin was no longer a heavy-sleeper. A drop of water, or rustle of leaves could keep him awake for hours. His body remembered what happened whilst he had been asleep. His mind never let him forget that sleeping put him in the most vulnerable position. He grew taller and stronger, but colder and angrier. For him, everyday was a day wasted. Because Jongin missed Baekhyun every waking moment.

Ten years had passed, and Jongin was nowhere near finding Baekhyun. To make it worse, he was captured.

The truck shook them back and forth as it made its way to who knows where. Sehun was right next to him, unconscious, and with an ugly cut on his forehead. His hands and feet were bound the same way Jongin’s were. And on his neck, the collar that suppressed their powers glimmered with malice.

As if having his hands and feet tied up wasn’t torture enough, Jongin thought. The collar was like having someone choke him until he was on the brink of death, letting him breath for a second, and then doing the same thing over and over again.

Because he wasn’t smart enough and fast enough and good enough, Jongin had gone and let himself get caught, along with Sehun, his one friend, who didn’t seem to mind Jongin’s silent and cynical nature.

What would they do to him? Were they taking him the same place Baekhyun was taken to? 

Was Baekhyun alive? Did he remember Jongin?

There were five other prisoners apart from him and Sehun. Two guys and three girls. Jongin didn’t know any of them. The badges on their arms were nothing he had seen before.

There were four guards in total. Two at the back, sitting with them, and two in the front.

Jongin eyed them as secretly as he could, looking for any kind of opening. He was sure that he could knock one of them unconscious before getting shot dead. He needed help but there was no way to speak with the others. Sehun was out cold, and the others, with the unknown badges, might not speak the same language as him. Their eyes were either closed or cast down, focusing on nothing. It was too risky.

So Jongin waited.

His body finally started to give in, and Jongin felt his eyelids grow heavier and heavier. The adrenaline rush had run out. He hadn’t slept for more than thirty hours, most of which he had spent fighting and using his power, which took large chunks of energy to use.

Baekhyun was laughing. He was doubled over on the floor, barely able to breath, and one of his hands was clutching his stomach, while the other fanned his face.

“Stooooop … ahahahahaha … I’m gonna die, I really — I’m gonna pee! Hahahahaha…”

Jongin could only wipe his tears and apologize.

“I’m sorry,” Jongin heard himself whisper, and then his eyes snapped open.

The truck had stopped, and someone was outside. Jongin could hear their footsteps on the rough stony ground.

“What’s going on out there?” one of the guards yelled, hitting the truck’s wall, which separated them from the two in the front.

No answer came.

The other guard pointed his gun at them in turn, letting them know that they shouldn’t get any funny ideas.

Silence.

Jongin got to count to two.

The truck's doors were blasted open and a blinding light was cast at them. Jongin instinctively closed his eyes and bent forward, pulling Sehun down with himself.

A sizzling sound rippled through the air, pulling all of Jongin’s body hair to stand up. A shot was fired for return. Someone screamed in pain, and then it was over. 

Jongin slowly blinked his eyes open.

Some girl got into the truck, muttering apologies for not being quick. Someone from the group with the unknown badges had been shot.

Jongin didn’t look at them. He looked at the other person — a man, wondering if he had finally gone insane. 

A man with jet black hair, playful droopy eyes, and big ears that had gone red at the tips.

He was looking back at Jongin. “Found you,”