A/n: It's been a while! I'm currently the busiest person alive ㅠㅠ Writing a new fic, running an Exo fic request shop, and still having this, Miscalc, and other things to work on. So yeah. Busy. Anyway, enjoy!

TW: Mentions of violence.

Baekhyun worked at a small grocery store a few blocks from where he lived with Chanyeol. It was a farther walk from Minseok’s place, but he didn’t really mind the extra exercise. He had always teasingly whined to Chanyeol to buy him a car, but they both knew they couldn’t afford it right now. Before Chanyeol had started working for the government about a year ago, they’d both had part-time jobs that barely paid the bills. A few months after his new job in the government, Chanyeol had convinced Baekhyun that he didn’t have to work anymore, because Chanyeol’s job could cover the costs. (Later on, he admitted he’d just been trying to protect Baekhyun from what he knew was coming.) For now, at least, a car did not seem to be in their near future. That was okay with Baekhyun, though. He had other matters to worry about.

Like his very sick friend – emotionally sick, that was – and that friend’s possibly dead best friend. Or his boyfriend, who he hadn’t seen in almost two days due to one of their first real, big fights ever (which bothered Baekhyun very much). Or just, you know, his whole world crumbling apart in death and chaos. Just everyday problems.

Having not slept very well the past two nights, Baekhyun was admittedly almost late in to work that morning, but he arrived two minutes before opening and was changed and at his cash register before anyone had come in, so he was safe. However, he was told to get off register duty and take himself into the aisles to assist customers, so that was how he ended up wandering around for the first few hours of his shift.

At about nine thirty, the place was crawling with customers doing their morning shopping, and Baekhyun was growing bored, his mind continuously wandering to other matters as he pointlessly organized the shelves. People who shopped here tended to already know where everything was, and so no one ever really approached him. He was meticulously rotating canned peas so the labels were facing the front when someone actually came up to him.

“Excuse me, Byun Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun glanced over his shoulder, and then spun around at the sight of Chanyeol standing behind him hesitantly. Immediately, he threw himself into the younger’s arms, and then leaned back to pull the boy down for a long-lasting kiss. He didn’t even care if he was at work, or if customers were watching. He needed a moment with Chanyeol, and he deserved it.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come by,” Baekhyun said when they parted, though they stayed close to one another. “Did you manage to reach your friend?”

Chanyeol nodded. “Yeah. He told me I’m damn lucky he’s working today, otherwise I would’ve woke him up and he would literally have jumped through the phone to kill me.”

Baekhyun bit back a laugh. “That sounds promising. I’m glad he didn’t though, otherwise I would’ve just kept waiting for you all day, wondering if you’d given up on me.” He meant it to be joking, but honestly, that was what would’ve happened. But it didn’t. He moved on. “Did he tell you anything else?”

“He said he’d look around, but he asked if he could get a picture,” Chanyeol told him in a more serious tone. “I don’t really have any of Luhan, do you?”

“No,” Baekhyun admitted. “But I’m sure Seok-hyung has lots. We can ask him for one and send it to – was it Sehun?” Chanyeol gave a confirming nod. “Alright. We’ll do that tonight then. Does Sehun work every day?”

“Guards are given two weeks’ worth of schedule, just like a regular job,” Chanyeol said. “Sehun’s like me, he just gets random shifts. I’ll ask him when he’s working when we talk tonight.”

“That sounds good,” Baekhyun said, smiling. “What about you?” He glanced down at the boy’s uniform. “When do you work today?”

“Ten,” Chanyeol admitted. “So I actually have to get going. When are you off, though?”

“I’m here ‘til two. I should probably get back to work too,” Baekhyun sighed, and he pushed up onto his toes to kiss him once again. Chanyeol’s hands moved to the back of his neck, holding him tightly against him, and Baekhyun grabbed on to the front of his shirt to keep himself balanced.

“I love you,” Chanyeol breathed against his lips, eyes half-lidded. “I’ll see you at Minseok-hyung’s tonight.”

“Alright.” He reached up to nibble on Chanyeol’s lip briefly, forcing Chanyeol to smile and pull away, and Baekhyun puckered his lips for a last kiss. “I love you too. See you later.” As Chanyeol moved to go, something occurred to Baekhyun. “Oh! Yeollie!” Chanyeol turned back, raising an eyebrow. “Do you think we should tell Minseok?”

“You mean you haven’t?” Chanyeol asked, and he looked a cross between surprised and unimpressed. Baekhyun had forgotten all about having Minseok in the dark; how were they supposed to get a picture of Luhan without him knowing? They could just steal one from his phone, but that felt wrong…

“Uh, yeah,” Baekhyun admitted. “I just don’t know how he’ll take it. If we can’t help Luhan – if we can even find him…”

Chanyeol frowned at him, and shook his head lightly. “As his best friend, I think he deserves to know, don’t you? One way or the other.” And as much as Baekhyun hated how honest Chanyeol could be sometimes, he appreciated it right now. He needed to hear those words.

“Alright then,” he sighed. “Will you text Seok-hyung and let him know? I’m sure he’d like to hear it from you.”

“Okay,” Chanyeol nodded. “I gotta go, though. We can talk later.”

“Love you!” Baekhyun called as he left again. Chanyeol held his arms over his head, making a heart with his hands, and Baekhyun laughed at the ridiculous sight.

For the rest of his shift, he felt one hundred percent better. Everything was always good if things between him and Chanyeol were good. (Okay, that wasn’t true at all, but it felt that way right now and Baekhyun was allowed to be happy for a little while.)

When Baekhyun got home – and by home, it was Minseok’s home – Minseok was elated, telling him about how Chanyeol had texted him earlier and filling Baekhyun in on everything he already knew. Baekhyun didn’t feel like ruining the older’s mood by telling him so, though, so he just went along with it all and was excited for him.

“I hope this Sehun guy can find Luhan,” Minseok said, eyes distant and painfully hopeful. Baekhyun hadn’t heard Minseok say Luhan’s name in days now.

“Me too,” Baekhyun said gently. He swallowed hard, not wanting to say the next words in his mind, but knowing he had to. “But, hyung – if he can’t…”

Minseok’s eyes met Baekhyun’s, and he looked like he couldn’t stand to let Baekhyun finish that.

“I know,” he whispered. “I don’t want to think about it. For now I just want to believe there’s still a chance.” And Baekhyun couldn’t say anything more to him about it. Minseok was hurting enough; a little happiness was well deserved.

He just hoped Chanyeol wouldn’t ruin anything.

“

Kyungsoo woke up starving as though he hadn’t eaten in a year. His previous day came back to him, prompted by his aching head, and he bit his lip, searching around in the darkness for – what? Jongin? Did he honestly expect to find the boy there, doting on him, or just waiting for him to wake up? The boy had probably gone off to get high, leaving Kyungsoo to fend for himself.

Rather than finding Jongin, he noticed Dareun, sitting on his pillow, looking at him. Well, if he were alive he’d be looking at him. But he – it – was just a toy, so of course it wasn’t actually looking at him. Kyungsoo took hold of him anyway, because the little sheep was a comfort to him, but as his fingers curled around it, there was a crumpling sound. Turning the sheep, he noticed a piece of paper taped to the toy, with writing he’d seen before. The same writing that had been on notes stuck all around his house, once. Jongin’s writing.

Dareun will take care of you, even though I can’t.

Kyungsoo wasn’t sure he appreciated the ominous-sounding message. Again, it felt like a goodbye. Jongin needed to stop doing that.

Not enjoying this treatment – from the boy he had let into his home, no less – Kyungsoo decided to take action, patting his pockets in search of his phone. Hadn’t he had it on him? With a glance around, however, he spotted it on his bedside table, and rolled his eyes. The idea of Jongin possibly feeling him up and taking his phone out of his pocket irked him. He pushed that aside, though, grabbing his phone and sending a message to Jongin.

“Hey, where are you? Are you okay?” He ignored the fact that he sounded like an obnoxious mother. For a split second, he felt an overwhelming embarrassment at the realization that he had never actually checked to see if Jongin was in the apartment, and he strained his ears for the sound of the other’s phone going off. After a moment, though, the silence continued unbroken, and Kyungsoo was given relief from his almost-shame.

Not surprisingly, Jongin didn’t answer. Kyungsoo didn’t let that bother him. He had to work in – two hours, according to his alarm clock. (And wow, he had slept long.) That time would be taken up by eating, showering, getting ready, walking to work. Because he wanted to walk to work. He could safely walk to work. Of course.

He may have considered carrying a knife. He decided against it.

(He did think about buying a pocket knife sometime, though.)

His four-hour shift went by reasonably enough, but Jongin still didn’t respond to him. Kyungsoo texted him once again, asking if he would be home for dinner, and then walked himself back home. When he was back in his apartment, he checked the phone – and finally! A message.

“What’s this?” Kyungsoo muttered to himself as he opened up the message Jongin had sent him. It wasn’t text, but instead a short video. He tapped on it, and it expanded and began to play. By the end of it, his heart was pounding, and a text message had come in.

“Come and get him.”

The video was shaky, and took a minute to focus. The place it was taken in wasn’t very bright, but it was clear who was there. Two of the men from yesterday – the third likely filming – and Kim Jongin, tied down to a chair, covered in cuts and bruises. As the video went on, the men began beating up Jongin, punching him, slashing shallow cuts in his skin with small knives, hitting him hard with – was it a crowbar? Jongin cried out in pain whenever they hurt him, but he managed to look up, through the hair falling in his face, to catch sight of the camera.

“What are you doing?” he croaked weakly. “Why are you – filming this?”

“For your dear little Kyungsoo-hyung,” the man behind the camera hissed, and the others laughed.

“What? No – don’t – don’t hurt him-” He took a hit to the head with the crowbar, and the video was caught off with the sound of vicious laughter.

A moment after the second message came in, another followed, this time an address. Kyungsoo didn’t hesitate, running to his kitchen to grab a knife – it was all he had, and he was really hating himself for it right now – and slipping his shoes back on before hurrying out the door. He didn’t even have time to wait for the elevator, heading for the stairs and flying down the fourteen floors. When he was at the bottom, he pulled out his phone again, but a new message stopped him from what he’d been planning to do.

“No cops or he’s dead.”

Fine. He could kill them all himself. He went down to the garage and to his car, punching the address into his GPS before taking off. Wherever this place was, it was in the same area of town that Jongin’s friend’s place had been. Had they gone there to get him? Why would Jongin go back there? Idiot… But Kyungsoo couldn’t be mad. His stomach was in knots and his heart was thundering, and he was about to get himself into a very, very dangerous situation, he knew, but he just kept driving.

Even going as quick as he could, it was a ten minute drive across town. However, he knew the place before he even arrived, and he also knew he was too late. When he to the street the address was on, he spotted several police cars where his GPS was taking him. However the cops had found out, it didn’t matter. Of course the kidnappers would assume Kyungsoo had called them. And that meant one thing.

Jongin was dead.

“

Oh Sehun hated waking up early in the morning. Actually, he hated a lot of things. Those things included – though were not limited to – pop music, homeless people who bugged him for change, his family, dogs (especially ones that barked), spiders (it was not a fear; it was an annoyance at their stupid many-legged existence), strongly scented things (perfume, flowers, soap, gum), anyone who called him cute, stupid people, anyone aged ten to fifteen, babies that cried (they were okay when they were quiet), soft pillows (seriously, was there a more useless creation in the world?), people who collected an unnecessary amount of things, enforced gender roles, and tacos. He didn’t particularly like his job, either, but he got paid a ridiculous amount of money for what he did and that was not something he could complain about (and Oh Sehun could complain about nearly anything). Did it bother him that three billion people were dying? Nope. Did he care that he dealt with those people every day at work? No, he did not.

Did he have friends? Not really.

He was, therefore, admittedly surprised when he got a call at just after seven in the morning (aka, just after his alarm had went off, and just after he’d gotten up). Shockingly, he didn’t like talking to people in the morning.

The number was Korean, so Sehun answered accordingly. “Hello?”

“Oh Sehun?” The voice on the other end sounded less-than-awake.

“Who’s asking?” Sehun could feel himself glaring already.

“It’s Park Chanyeol,” the other answered. “We trained together for a year before you went to Beijing.”

Sehun was immediately familiar with the man. Not that he cared to remember most people, but the two had spent most of a year together in training. They had been in the same course, same class, and often partnered together. If there was anyone Sehun took away from that year, it was definitely Park Chanyeol. They had even exchanged phone numbers (which was Chanyeol’s idea), but hadn’t really stayed in contact.

Unless too much had changed, though, he still could recall a lot about Chanyeol. Yeah, Sehun stopped thinking about people once they weren’t around, but that didn’t mean he forgot about them. Chanyeol was a year and a half older than Sehun, but at the time had been living with his boyfriend of two years. (And though Sehun hated many things, he was not homophobic. Chanyeol had shown Sehun pictures of his boyfriend, whose name Sehun couldn’t remember now, and Sehun thought they seemed nice together. Good for them.) They had met in their first year of college or something. Chanyeol had taken some sort of law-related course, and had then gone into training, being accepted immediately because of that course. (Sehun, meanwhile, had been accepted on his apathetic demeanor. And his parents had said his indifference would never amount to anything. Ha.) There were other things about Chanyeol, like how he liked to go to karaoke, and that he liked anime (the obnoxious ones that Sehun couldn’t get into, not that Sehun really liked anime anyway), and that he really liked ferrets and kept bugging his boyfriend about getting one. Yes, Sehun remembered Chanyeol.

But what did he want?

“Uh, hi Chanyeol,” Sehun said. He wasn’t good at conversation on the phone. Or in general.

“Do you remember me?”

“Yes, I do. Tall, lunatic laugh, class clown.”

“Oh, good,” Chanyeol said, although he didn’t sound too enthusiastic. Sehun wasn’t one to sugar-coat. Chanyeol was weird, and that’s how Sehun remembered him. It wasn’t Sehun’s fault that he was that way. If he wanted people to think different of him, Chanyeol would have to change himself. “How’s Beijing?”

“Not much different than it’s made out to be,” Sehun responded monotonously. “Why? Were you recruited here or something?”

“No, not exactly.”

“O…kay.”

“I, uh, had a crazy favour to ask you, actually,” Chanyeol said slowly. That was never good. Favours. Doing things for other people just to be nice. Not exactly an Oh Sehun type of thing. He waited for Chanyeol to continue, at least curious to what he’d be saying no to. “A friend of mine – well, he’s more of my boyfriend’s friend; you remember Baekhyun, right?” Ah. That had been the guy’s name. Sehun made a sound of acknowledgement. “Yeah, anyway, his best friend is going through a really hard time, and it’s sort of getting between me and Baekhyun, otherwise I wouldn’t be so desperate…”

Oh boy. A sob story; Sehun’s favourite. What exactly about “I’m sad and in need of help” made people think of Sehun, anyway? He was not, nor had he ever been, the kind of person to offer a shoulder or hand or even a tissue to someone in need, and he knew for a fact he didn’t give that kind of vibe, either. His understanding of humanity was seriously so small sometimes, it worried him.

“…Anyway, but Baekhyun’s friend’s – roommate, I guess he is, his name is Luhan.” Sehun frowned. That was definitely a Chinese name. He suddenly didn’t like where this was going. “And he went back to China to get Confirmed, I dunno, a week ago now. But he didn’t get Confirmed.”

“Cat. nine, huh?” Sehun put in.

“Yeah.”

“So your boyfriend’s friend, what, he’s suspicious why the guy isn’t answering his calls?”

“No,” Chanyeol replied. “He… he knows.”

“You told him?” That was only illegal. Sehun guessed Chanyeol’s boyfriend knew, but he couldn’t go around telling everyone who lost a loved one or whatever. The secret categories were supposed to be secret. Sehun didn’t care if Chanyeol had told anyone, but usually other people put more value into obeying rules.

“His friend called him, when he got caught,” Chanyeol explained. “Luhan mentioned Category nines before the call disconnected, and since Baekhyun’s friend knows me, he asked questions… He’s devastated, I mean he’s really messed up, but the other day he got this idea that he could break into the camp-” Sehun snorted. “- I know, crazy, right? I said it’s impossible. But he’s insistent on finding Luhan. Baekhyun’s taking his side too, or like I said, I wouldn’t care so much.”

“So what, you want me to find this guy, assuming he’s still alive, and hatch him out of there?” Sehun asked sardonically. “I’m not exactly a James Bond kinda guy.”

“I know, but you’re the only guy I know up there, and if Luhan is alive, he’d be there. And I – can’t handle things being bad between me and Baek, you know?” No. I don’t have a boyfriend or significant other. “Even if you don’t find him, at least I tried. Is there any way you could just look for him, for me?”

Sehun gave a sigh. No, he was not giving in to pressure, guilt, or sympathy for the guy’s relationship’s sake. But he did say, “I guess I can look,” and that was only due to the fact that he had nothing else to do at work, and at least this would make it more interesting. “But I don’t know what the guy looks like.”

Chanyeol was clearly relieved that Sehun agreed to it, because even as he told him that he didn’t have any pictures of the Luhan guy, he sounded like he was bouncing off the walls. All because I’m helping his relationship. Sehun supposed Chanyeol liked that Baekhyun kid a lot. Then again, they’d been together for three years now, and didn’t seem sick of each other yet. At least, Chanyeol certainly wasn’t sick of him.

By the time their conversation ended, Chanyeol had given a description of the missing boy and was promising he would get Sehun a picture by the end of the day, and Sehun was feeling a bit annoyed with himself for actually agreeing to get on board with this crazy idea. (He made up for this by threatening Chanyeol for calling him so early in the morning.) But whatever. Whether he found the guy or not didn’t really mean anything for him. He was helping out a sort-of friend either way, so he should be happy about that.

Or something.

“

Kyungsoo was not going to cry, because crying was very stupid and very childish and very weak and he was none of those things. He would not waste any time being sad. Instead, he was going to go home and throw a party for one because this was a cause for celebration. The only thing he would mourn would be lost time to all the extra shifts he was going to have to take until Joonmyun hired someone else to replace Jongin. He was going to turn his car around right now, yes he was.

Any minute now.

Why was he still sitting there? It was going to look suspicious. There were several police cars outside the building he was supposed to have been heading to, and now he was just sitting there watching and that definitely wasn’t safe at all. But he couldn’t find any willpower to leave.

He pulled out his phone, calling Jongin’s number, but it went straight to voicemail. He tried texting the younger. “Message me when you get this; just let me know you’re okay.” But he didn’t expect a reply. This wasn’t good.

You’re too attached.

Was this his fault? He hadn’t called the police, but he had pissed those guys off. Were they taking their revenge through Jongin? Alright, but Kyungsoo had only punched the one guy; that didn’t call for murder… But Kyungsoo was meddling in an unfamiliar scene, and he didn’t know the rules of their game. Still, Jongin didn’t deserve to die.

Didn’t he? Look at what he was. He didn’t contribute to the well-being of society anyway; it’s better this way. That voice wasn’t his – honestly, it sounded a lot like his father’s – but Kyungsoo took it as true anyway, because that was what he always did. There was a far quieter voice, that of a young boy, that argued against it. That Jongin did matter.

Kyungsoo just told them both to shut up and drove himself home.

Most of Jongin’s stuff wasn’t there. A shirt and a pair of socks belonging to the younger were mixed in Kyungsoo’s dirty laundry, but his bag wasn’t there and the only sign of his presence having been there was his makeshift bed on the couch. Not for the first time, Kyungsoo folded up the blanket and tucked it away in his linen cupboard with the pillow. He didn’t know what to do about Jongin’s clothes. He plucked them out of his laundry basket and threw them on his bed to worry about later.

It felt like he’d lost Jongin too many times; but this time, there was no uncertainty. Jongin was dead, leaving no room for error. Kyungsoo was really back to being alone this time. He told himself this was good, great, excellent. Anything was better than having a stupid Category under his roof. Kyungsoo never had any right or obligation to care about Jongin anyway, and with him gone it was just one less thing to worry about. And there really was no worrying this time, because Jongin wasn’t alive to be getting himself into trouble. That made things even easier for Kyungsoo.

Despite that, it only felt harder. Kyungsoo didn’t feel like eating, or doing much of anything, and maybe it had just been too taxing on him watching Jongin get beat up and knowing he was dead now, because he just wanted to take a nap for a few months. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t be happening, but maybe a few hours or something would be acceptable. He put himself to bed, and grabbed Jongin’s shirt, crumpling it up in frustration and holding it close to him. Stupid, stupid Jongin.

He fell asleep for a while, staying in the room for about three hours until he had to go to the bathroom. When he came back, he plopped back down on his bed, but after a minute his phone started ringing.

Kyungsoo’s heart stammered. Checking the screen didn’t help – unknown number. It wasn’t the cops, was it? Had they connected him to Jongin already? Or – was it those guys that had killed Jongin?

“H-hello?”

“Hi Kyungsoo.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes widened. “Jongin?”

“Yeah,” the other’s voice came through, making Kyungsoo’s chest feel impossibly tight. How? How is he – how? “I can’t talk long; I just want you to know I’m okay.”

“What happened? How did they find you? That video-”

“Don’t worry, okay?” Jongin said quickly. “They took that hours before it was sent to you. I was stupid yesterday and they found me. Anyway, hardly a minute after they messaged you, the cops showed up. They thought you’d called, but it was too fast – must’ve been someone in the neighbourhood or something. Doesn’t matter. I got out. My cell is gone, though; I’m on a payphone now.” Kyungsoo could just imagine him, huddled in a phone booth, holding himself up. Even if that video had been hours hold – they’d been cutting him, beating him with a crowbar. The image was enough to make Kyungsoo want to beg Jongin to come home.

Instead, Jongin made things so much worse. “I’ve gotta lay low for a bit, and… I don’t know if I’ll be able to come back.”

No! Kyungsoo felt sick at his words. What did that even mean, he might not be able to come back? “Why?” he asked, feeling like a child. “You have to…”

No he doesn’t, and you shouldn’t want him to, either. Kyungsoo knew he shouldn’t – he should be annoyed Jongin wasn’t dead, just like he should’ve been happy when he’d thought Jongin was dead. But he wasn’t being very obedient to his mind today, and that was never a good thing – because his mind knew what was right and what was safe – but he was too busy being relieved that Jongin was somewhere, maybe sort of okay, to care about what he was supposed to be feeling.

Jongin gave a soft laugh. “Have to, huh?” he echoed, a hint of teasing in his voice, making Kyungsoo feel warm because even Jongin could tell something was wrong with him. “I wish I could say I will,” he went on slowly. “That I’ll see you soon. But I don’t know… I can’t know… I might not wake up in the morning, I don’t know. If I don’t, though, I just want you to know…” His voice faltered, and he coughed, inhaling loudly. “I’m really grateful for everything you did for me… Thank you, Kyungsoo. And if I messed up your life too much, I’m sorry. And I – well, thanks.”

Kyungsoo blinked, and then found himself needing to do so again several times. What was wrong with him? When had his eyes started watering? Maybe he’d gotten something in his eye. “Jongin…” He didn’t want this to be their goodbye. It wasn’t supposed to matter. If he doesn’t come back, that’s all the better for you, Kyungsoo. It just didn’t feel that way at all.

“I have to go,” Jongin told him.

“Wait! Jongin!” Kyungsoo’s heart jumped, because he didn’t want Jongin to go. He hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell him what a pain he’d been these past few weeks.

“Yeah?”

Kyungsoo had to swallow hard to get his words out; even then, there wasn’t much. “You’re welcome.”

Jongin laughed again, though he didn’t sound very amused. “Right.”

“And – take care of yourself, Jongin.” The words came out too soft. Weak.

“You too, hyung.”

When the line clicked, disconnecting, Kyungsoo choked. His phone stayed pressed to his ear for a long time, just listening to the droning ring, like he was waiting for Jongin to come back.

“Goodbye,” he whispered eventually, ending the call. When he blinked, he noticed his vision clearing, and felt something slip down his face as his lashes pushed tears out of his eyes.

He wouldn’t cry over Kim Jongin.

He wouldn’t cry over him…

At least, after tonight. Tomorrow, he wouldn’t cry anymore.

“

Holding camps were terrifying places. Not in appearance. From the outside, they looked a bit like stadiums, and from within the actual holding rooms it wasn’t so different. There weren’t rows of seats, but the ceilings were high and the rooms were packed with people, who were sort of organized by invisible sections and all just sat around anticipating their deaths. That was the part that was scary. Knowing that the camps were cages, that what you saw inside was the last thing you ever would get to see, that you were going to die very soon. People died every day; they tried to kill themselves, they were killed by guards (nothing was illegal in the camps), they died of natural(ish) causes like starvation or loss of willpower. The prisoners were fed, but hardly enough; a small helping of rice a day.

In places like the Beijing camp, despite being a larger camp, there were even more people, and even less space, food, and consideration. Prisoners tried to make themselves go entirely unnoticed by guards, because the guards were ruthless there. They would kill someone for snoring in their sleep, crying too loudly, standing up too suddenly, whatever they felt like. The guards kept fear strong in everyone, every breath of air in the hellish prisons. If you didn’t realize this quickly, you were killed. If you did, you got to live in the terror.

On the first day in camp, Luhan had been in distress. He had been shunted down to a random section of the prison, led by one of the guards and then just left to fend for himself. Everyone else was sitting or lying down, so he scanned for a place to sit, knowing any attempts to escape would be futile. He just wanted to sit down and cry for a while without being bothered.

He had watched as his father had been shot, and then he had run, tried to escape, called Minseok, and then seen his mother been killed too. Not knowing what else to do, he’d begged for his own life – and somehow been shown mercy. One of the guards had said to another, if Luhan asked to be spared, they had to do so. From there, he’d been taken to the camp. But his parents were both dead, he had been wrongly accused of Category status – for a Category that didn’t even exist – and he was not going home, he was never going to see Minseok again, and how he was still standing on his feet was probably a miracle. He was confused and overwhelmed and terrified and didn’t know if he would ever talk to any of these people, or if he’d ever be fed again, or if he would randomly be marched off one day and shot or if the room would just fill with poison and kill them all or what, and he just wanted to stop standing, stop thinking, stop being awake. The prison was just so full, though, that it seemed like he would have to sit in the little footpath between the sections. Fearing that might get him into trouble if he did that, he kept looking on, until oddly someone waved at him, gesturing to a small space enough for Luhan to take up. He made his way over, not speaking to the boy who had acknowledged him and instead taking off his sweater, throwing it over his head and lying down.

Luhan hoped he would be dead soon. He couldn’t bear living here.

A/n: Luhan has entered the scene! Also Sehun uwu

I should note that I've got three different timelines happening in this fic now. Baekyeol/Sehun/Xiu's timeline, Kaisoo's, and now Luhan's. The Kaisoo phone call in this chapter happened on October 8th; Luhan is captured and taken to the holding camp on October 16th; and Chanyeol calls Sehun on October 24th. Just so we're clear! (Confusing, right? I'm sorry ㅠㅠ) I think all the timelines will catch up with each other eventually, but for now they're all about a week off.

Anyway, so yeah! Go check out my new fic (I haven't started posting yet, but look at the description and stuff) and request in my req shop! I'll try to update again here soon <3