chapter IX

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Myungsoo’s eyes flicker from the clock on the wall to the corner of his phone where the time is displayed in small, white numbers.  

          They met back up at Myungsoo’s house, and Krystal had explained the terrain around the cabin in detail.  It was closed in by an endless variety of foliage and trees, but most conveniently, the oak trees bordering the house and the path leading downhill.  Their leaves were full and green as spring came to a close and summer settled in.

          The ground was made of packed mulch and dirt, dry from lack of rain, and a stream behind the cabin flowed down with the hill, pouring into the ocean as the land evened out.  

          The hill itself was rather steep and lengthy, making it a popular place for sledding and skiing in winter.  Several less conspicuous hiking trails branched out from the main path, which was almost twenty feet in width.  The trees blocked out most of the sunlight, and past the stooped oaks, pointy pine tree tops peeked over all of the forest.

          Myungsoo nodded throughout, his eyes trained on Krystal as she went into more depth.  After she finished, he declared that the situation was almost perfect for the plan he'd worked up during the drive back from surveying.  He'd explained his thoughts, looking at each of them hopefully.

          "It's a long shot, but if it works, then it works," Sungyeol said.

          Sungjong nodded.  "But who's running?"

          Clearing his throat, Myungsoo blinked at him and said, "Well, I was hoping you would... But it's okay if you won't do it, I mean who'd want to do that, right?  I get it, I get it."

          "Yo, I'm not letting Sungjong get killed cause of you," Krystal said.

          "He has a chance of living-"

          "A chance, wow, how reassuring."

          "I'm just saying-"

          Sungjong frowned as the prospect of the job rolled through his head.  It made sense that Myungsoo picked him to run.  After all, he had the fastest times for short distance in track, and he was smaller than the rest of them, therefore harder to target.  If it wasn't him, then it would definitely be Krystal, and having her do something he could accomplish just as successfully was just humiliating.

          "I'll do it," he said, interrupting the back and forth.

          "Jong...are you sure?"  Krystal asked.  He nodded.

          Myungsoo seemed startled for a moment before jumping back to life.  He began firing orders: these two to the supply closet, us two find the artillery.  It was messy and chaotic as everyone tried to find their bearings, but their goal was clear now.

          Soon, hopefully, Sound would claim the prize.

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          "Hello, hello!  Have you missed me?  Of course, it's only been six hours, but nonetheless.  Hero's here to give you your evening announcements."  His voice was muffled through the walls of the closet Sungjong and Krystal were digging through.  "The weather is beautiful and sunny, the winds blowing northeast.  You can expect fog tomorrow morning along with tides of-  just kidding!  Was it convincing?"

          "No," L muttered in the background.

          "During my little respite, Derium's numbers have dropped by...one!  Number fifty-one, James Anderson.  Which leaves Sound with a meager ten, and Derium with thirteen.  Better step up your game, kids.  Hm.  I'm getting a bit hungry.  Princess, make me a salad, would you?"  It disconnected.

          "God."  Krystal shook her head.  "He's insane."

          "Right?"

          They lapsed into silence as each concentrated on sifting through the shelves of materials.  He wondered what the purpose of all these cleaning products and tools were because after all, Myungsoo lived a fulfilling life in a perfect house.  His family would certainly be able to afford any renovations.  Sungjong's thoughts drifted as he thought of possible reasons.

          "What do you think about this plan?"  Sungjong asked after a few minutes.  "Do you think it'll work?"

          "Well, it depends on how much you trust Myungsoo.  I myself am not keen on letting you be the runner, but since you insisted."

          "Would you rather take my place?"

          "Any day."

          "Do you not trust me?"

          "I do trust you.  It's just that, you know, you're my little baby Sungjong.  I don't want you getting hurt over something stupid," she said, and patted his head.

          "I don't want to see you hurt either.  And it's not stupid... If it works, then we're home free."

          "Home free... how ironic."

          Sungjong sighed, pushing materials around the shelves.  "Here it is," he said, holding up a ball of completely clear wire.  He and Krystal rejoined the other two in the living room, the latter wandering off to the kitchen to throw together a quick dinner.

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          A sliver of light appeared behind the door to Krystal's room, and a figure stepped in, closing the door after himself.  She squinted at the person, shadowed in darkness; it wasn't like she could sleep anyway.

          "Krystal," the shadow whispered, sounding like Sungjong and sounding very much not like Sungjong as well.  She sat up against the headboard as he neared the bed.  There was a choking noise, and she didn't so much blink before pushing off the mattress and into Sungjong's arms.  "Krystal," he said again, burying his face into the crook of her neck, his body convulsing.

          The tracks his tears made down her shoulder were cold to the night air.

          "What's wrong, Sungjong?" she said, rubbing his back as he clung to her.  He hiccuped, letting out a few more sobs.

          Carefully releasing him, she guided them to a wall where his knees automatically collapsed as soon as his shoulders hit the plaster.  "Baby, what's the matter?"  she asked, sliding down beside him, although the answer was clear in her head.

          Falling against her side, he took in a shaking breath and said, "I don't- I don't want to die, Krystal.  I don't want to die."

          She put her arm around his shoulder, pulling him in closer and ruffling his hair.  Her heart squeezed as he whimpered into her shirt.  Baby Sungjong, baby Sungjong.  "It's okay," she said, and it hurt more that she couldn't say 'You won't die', because she couldn't lie to him.  He would die one day.  Just hopefully not tomorrow.

"Kai-ai and Se-Sehun- I want them back."  His voice cracked.  "Why, Krystal?  Why?  It's not fair."  He looked up, his silver eyes reflecting the window behind her.  They searched for an answer in her own- an answer she could not provide, and he let his head fall back on her shoulder, defeat apparent in his posture.

          "Hey, but you can't give up," she said, and after minutes of silence, Sungjong had drifted asleep after exhausting himself out.

          Morning found the two curled together under the windowsill, dawn light pouring upon their figures.  

          When Sungjong opened his eyes, still in Krystal's embrace, he took the time to watch the room fill with yellow streamers of sunlight that fell into every corner until there were no more shadows and only soft edges.

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          "Sungjong, stop moping and get to it. Are you waiting for a sign from God or something?  Cause it's not going to come," Myungsoo said as he strode into the living room, Bluetooths in hand.

          Sungjong continued with the breakfast Krystal had made, feeling every bite slide down his throat.  It made him sick.

          "Oi, I said get to it."  Myungsoo spread the devices down on the table in front of Sungjong and pushed layers of papers and junk away to clear an area.  He grabbed the stylus that was buried underneath the drawings and began programming the Bluetooths.  A few minutes passed, and Sungjong heard Sungyeol and Krystal bickering upstairs.  Myungsoo put the current Bluetooth he was working on down and watched Sungjong.  Once he looked up, Myungsoo grabbed his plate from Sungjong's hands and set it away from him.

          Casting a tired glance at the unfinished food, Sungjong stood up from the couch and climbed the stairs.  His knees felt weak.  

          "It's not a difficult concept to understand, Sungjong," Myungsoo called.  "It shouldn't take you this long."

          Sungjong's eyebrow twitched.  He walked into a high ceilinged room, a breeze from an open window pushing his bangs back.  Myungsoo's parent's room certainly was grand, he thought.  The roses were a nice touch.  And everything was white, just like the room he woke up in, not a blinding white, but more of an ethereal glow.  A fine, white mesh curtain billowed softly in front of the window, making dappled light waver in cream and tan colored patches on the carpet.  He stood there for a length of time, simply watching the dancing light and feeling the warm ocean breeze.

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          "You seem out of it, Sungjong," Krystal said as she propped her foot up on coffee table and laced her Converse.

          He twisted his fingers together.  "I am..." he murmured, not even attempting to deny it.  

          The tension in the room was high and tangible, the growing stack of weapons and ammunition on the table between the four a visual representation.  It was clear that they couldn't carry all of it yet the pile continued to gain height.  

          Myungsoo's shoulders were hunched as he fastened the Bluetooths to their ears.  Sungyeol was silent.

          "Look at me," Myungsoo said when he got to Sungjong.  "Look at me.  In the eye."  The way he hissed it cut into Sungjong.  He did, and they were black. "Get yourself together.  Do you understand?"  Sungjong's eyes widened; he looked away.  "You're key to this plan.  You cannot fail."

          "Way to not put pressure on him, Myung.  If you'll remember it's Sungjong who has the riskiest job.  The job that you gave him?"

          Myungsoo scoffed.  "It's his fault for being such a .  Not man enough to take the job, princess?"

          Everything in Sungjong stopped.  He stopped breathing, he stopped seeing, he stopped hearing, and his heart nearly stopped beating.  His jaw was frozen dangling.  

          Krystal sputtered.  "Yo, Myungsoo.  What the hell?  God, I thought you were better than this."  She straightened her shoe and walked over to Sungjong, settling a hand on his shoulder, her gaze hard on Myungsoo.  Leaning down near his ear, she whispered, "Listen Jongie, I'm going to give this boy a serious talking to in another room, okay?  Just because he-"  Sungjong let out a small puff of air.

          Cocking an eyebrow at Myungsoo and nailing him with a look that could only be one of two things: disappointed, or mourning, he rose from his seat and disappeared around the corner of the kitchen.

          Only Kai was allowed to call him princess.

          Krystal watched him leave and turned back to Myungsoo who was slouched on the couch with his arms crossed.  “Myungsoo.  I understand you are stressed.  I understand you want this plan to be successful.  I understand what you are feeling. So if you have something that’s eating you away inside, don’t, God, don’t take it out on Sungjong.  Do you know what he’s been through?”

          Myungsoo snorted.  “Do you know what I’ve been through?”

          Krystal shrugged at him in an overly dramatic fashion, raising her palms and craning her neck.  "Honestly, I could give less s if you're immature enough to beat on Sungjong for something he can't control."

          Sungyeol shifted uncomfortably, torn about who to side with, after all, he'd been with Myungsoo this whole time and could vouch for everything he said, but he didn't know Sungjong and Krystal's story.  He cleared his throat and in a hesitant movement, edged past Myungsoo and into the kitchen.   Sungjong sat at the breakfast bar, flipping a gun he'd snatched from the pile in his hands.

          "How are things?" Sungyeol said, taking a seat in the swivel chair opposite Sungjong.  Krystal's loud reprimands and Myungsoo's snide responses were heard through the walls.

          He laughed humorlessly, running a finger along the plastic.  "That was certainly a wake up call.  I admit though, my behavior was uncalled for.  I have to start thinking about the big picture here, you know?"  He made a burst with his hands.  "Not everything is Sungjong-centric, and I was a fool to believe it so."  

          Sungyeol patted his shoulder.  "I'm Sungjong-centric," he said, and Sungjong smiled a bit.

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          Sungjong had just turned Dongwoo's old Altima into the high school parking lot when Sungyeol began laughing hysterically into his ear.  "Yo, yo, everyone here is right?"

          He was glad he got to drive his own car, thus leaving Krystal to deal with the other two.  The benefits of being the sacrificial card, he supposed.  

          His feelings for Myungsoo hadn't evaporated like he hoped they would, and instead, his curiosity was only spurred and his resolve to know him better strengthened. The two hadn't cast each other a single glance as they prepared to set out.  Krystal glared at Myungsoo, as if demanding he apologize, but nothing was said.  Somehow, Sungjong was relieved.

          "What?"  Krystal said.

          "You know, since this is our official last day on Earth, I was thinking what a pity it was if we never...experienced..."

          "Shut up," Myungsoo said over Sungyeol.

          It was bizarre, how the Bluetooths projected sound from the individual microphones into one single synchronized conversation.  

          "Last day on Earth, yeah?"  Krystal said.

          "Yeah, so come on...Krystal?"  He could picture Sungyeol making suggestive faces at her.

          Sungjong sat back against the seat and closed his eyes. Last day on Earth, last day on Earth last day on Earth.  And yet, it didn't feel any different.  Breathe in, breathe out.  Faces flashed behind his eyelids.  Dongwoo, Mom, Dad, Yixing, Baekhyun, Kai, Sehun, Sulli, Victoria, Amber, and even the ones he'd never met before, and probably never will.  He'd promised them too.  He told them they'd meet one day.  "Jieun, Jiyeon, Hoya, Woohyun, Sunggyu," he said, like their names were a sacred thing.

          "Oh, baby Jong, don't worry.  You'll meet them, I guarantee," Krystal almost cooed.

          "Who?"  Sungyeol asked.

          "Friends in New York."

          "Ones he's never met?"  Myungsoo said.

          "Ones he will meet."

          Sungjong sighed. "I won't."

          "What do you mean you won't?  Heck, I'm even going to meet them.  Although that Jieun frustrates me so much."  She muttered the last part.

          "Because I'm done," he said.

          "What are you implying?"  Sungyeol replied.

          "I'm just...done."

          And there was only static silence over his Bluetooth as he stared out the cracked windshield and at his old high school.  

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          He hauled himself over the branch of a densely leaved tree, groaning as his legs kicked at open air.  This was the first tree Sungjong had climbed in what- six years?  He just hoped he wouldn’t grab onto a wasps’ nest mistakenly.  

          "You ready?"  Sungjong said, shifting in his spot, rough bark and pointy twigs pressing into his legs.  The cabin was visible through the layers of fresh green leaves swaying in the breeze, calm and silent.  He faced a window through which he could see a mess of tangled limbs on the floor, frozen in sleep.

          "Give us a minute.  Myung's having trouble climbing his tree."

          "But the wire's in place?"

          "The wire's in place.  I'll tell you when you're getting close to it, okay?"

          "Okay..."

          He looked again to the cut on the back of his left hand, the one that looked like the scar on Sehun's cheek.  It had scabbed over when he wasn't paying attention.  The old FMG was in his lap, loaded to full capacity, and it felt like forever since he'd last held it.

          Antietam made it seem like reality had faded away, and the only real this world had was the killing, the hoping, and the mourning.  Comfort was a lie, and the only way out was death.  It'd only been seven days since it started, yet it felt like he'd been doing this since birth.  

          He traced the outline of two filled magazines in his pocket.  They were the only ones he had left, the rest having been spent target practicing and during confrontation.

          "We're done."

          "Alright."  He cracked his neck and balanced his weight before leveling the gun to his eye.

          "And Sungjong