A/n: If you missed my update on the 1st of July, please return to Chapters 13&14. I double updated then. Anyway, here I am again, I've been writing up a storm lately. Sorry ㅎ Three and a half weeks until the end (four and a half from Kaisoo's perspective) at the end of this chapter! I'll probably be done by chapter 20 (aka 4 to go). Also, this is not edited, same as the last. I'll edit them eventually, but suffer through it for now.

Sehun should have known that just because he took himself out of Chanyeol’s situation, he wouldn’t get away so easily. It was pretty much unavoidable now for him not to see the whole thing through to the end, willing or not. This wouldn’t be a problem if people would just listen to him and take his very accurate word that there was no way to do this, but why would they? People had to be stupid until they gave up and went off to do something else stupid. He didn’t understand them, of course, but this was what his experience with humanity had taught him. Anyway, that didn’t matter right now (well, it sort of did); he’d been drawn into a concerning (not to him, but it could affect him eventually) problem.

Honestly, the fact that he hadn’t figured it out quicker worried him a bit. Because that Minseok guy had messaged him that morning, and that should have been a sign right there. Why would Minseok go out of the way to get Sehun’s number when anything he wanted to say could easily be relayed through Chanyeol? Chanyeol just as easily could have sent that picture himself. And then there was the message itself (which wasn’t for Sehun’s eyes, but he’d glanced over it anyway; sue him). The guy had said he would be doing it – aka, saving his friend – himself, or whatever, no matter what it took. How that didn’t set alarms off, didn’t urge Sehun to message Chanyeol and just ask what was happening… It was probably a little bit his fault that things had panned out the way they had.

(He didn’t feel bad though. As long as it didn’t end up screwing him over.)

Maybe he was having an off day – which would be the first in who-knows how long – but things seemed to keep going over Sehun’s head that day for some reason. There was Minseok’s note, and then when he got off work at six he found a message on his phone from Chanyeol saying that the guy had gone missing. That much didn’t really worry Sehun. However, he was out of the building about twenty minutes later along with the other guards going off shift (it took a while to get out after a shift, having a long clearing process before one was allowed to leave), and another occurrence happened that should have had him far more wary than he was.

Upon passing the gates of the camp, Sehun’s path was automatic for him; a block down was a bus stop that he could wait at for a few minutes to catch a bus that would pass his temporary apartment. He made his way to the stop, but as he went, he noticed someone standing by the wall of the prison, staring up the vast height of the stone wall – they went up about thirty feet or so, if Sehun recalled correctly. The person was alone, and as Sehun neared he made out that it was a man – or maybe, a boy – and Sehun thought maybe he looked familiar. In a country where he didn’t know anyone, that sort of sparked his interest. Something about his eyes, the shape of his nose… Sehun didn’t think he knew him, but he thought the stranger might be Korean. He had seen more than enough Koreans in his life to be able to distinguish them. At least, if that was the case, it explained why the guy was here, at the prison, when absolutely no one else was around – nor were they ever. He must not know any better.

Why did the guy even want to be there?

It probably took Sehun a little too long to figure it out. By his next shift (a two-am one the following morning, which technically wasn’t allowed because he had worked the shift before last and the law was there had to be at least two shifts between each worked shift; Sehun didn’t care though), Chanyeol had updated him to say that Minseok wasn’t answering his phone, or even looking at his messages. Sehun asked him what the possibility was that the older had come over to China, and Chanyeol said it was very possible.

Sehun had no doubts about it.

By the end of his shift that morning, Sehun was admittedly pretty tired and wanting to go home to sleep for another couple hours. (It didn’t help that he’d gotten out later than usual because one of the guards had been trying to talk to him until everyone else had left. Sehun hardly even knew Chinese, and couldn’t understand the guy, but that apparently wasn’t enough to stop the other. Ugh.) He definitely didn’t want to have to be worrying about someone he didn’t even know doing whatever stupid things he was doing. He’d already done enough today, even going and telling Luhan about what was going on (which maybe wasn’t a good idea; what was the point of making him worry too?).

Of course, Sehun was very unlucky, and he was soon cursing Chanyeol for ever dragging him into the other’s mess. For the second time leaving the prison, Sehun spotted a man walking slowly along the outer perimeter of the place, and again Sehun found him to be familiar. This time, however, he knew why the stranger was familiar – not just because of their shared race, either. Even if it had only been once, Sehun had seen his face before, in a photograph. The one Chanyeol had sent him so he would know what Luhan looked like. Minseok was in the picture too. He wasn’t much different now than how he looked whenever the photo had been taken; a bit less lively, a lot more tired, not much older.

But Sehun was never supposed to see this guy in real life.

“Yah, you!” he called out in Korean. Minseok’s head spun at the well-known language. Sehun was a bit glad he’d been held up; it would be hard to confront the other when surrounded by other guards. “Don’t you know you look suspicious going around this place? You shouldn’t be here.”

Minseok’s eyes filled with fear and confusion. “Do I know you?”

“Unofficially,” Sehun replied apathetically. “I’m Oh Sehun. I guess I can’t just let you leave, can I?” He sighed at that realization. Since he had found the guy, he should rightfully take him in. Ugh. This was more than he’d bargained for. He hated feeling obligated to do things for others.

“You’re Sehun?” Minseok asked uncertainly. Sehun just rolled his eyes. “I thought you were a guard?”

Was that really important right now? And what about his appearance made him look unlike a guard? “I am. Come on, you can stay with me until I let Chanyeol know I have you.”

“No – you can’t tell him!” Minseok took a step back from Sehun, going from somewhat-calm to a full panic, and Sehun scowled. He didn’t want to deal with this drama right now. “Please. My best friend is in there and-”

“And you need to get him out, blah blah,” Sehun finished for him. He wasn’t sure if the sympathy vote thing would work on another guard, but it didn’t on him. Even with the pleading, desperate look Minseok was giving him, it wasn’t enough to change the reality of the situation. “That’s not happening, okay? Whatever your plan is, it won’t work, believe me. You can go back home and let your friend die without causing a big scene, okay? Now come on,” he repeated as Minseok’s face fell, Sehun reaching out this time and grabbing the other’s arm. Minseok squirmed, but Sehun’s grip moved up just above his elbow, tightening roughly and drawing a sharp gasp from Minseok. At least he stilled. Then he allowed Sehun to lead him to the bus stop.

There was only a moment to wait before the bus arrived, and then it was a short drive to Sehun’s and the pair got off, Minseok reluctantly following. The older didn’t speak a word, looking entirely miserable after what Sehun had said to him. It’s just the truth. Sehun led them up to his apartment, feeling strange and somewhat reluctant to have someone else there with him; he wasn’t exactly excited to be babysitting. Locking the door once they were inside and making Minseok sit on the couch, he grabbed his phone off the counter. Before he could pull up Chanyeol’s number, fingers slipped around his wrist.

“Please, Sehun.” Minseok’s grasp wasn’t at all rough, just enough to get Sehun’s attention, though he didn’t let go. Sehun’s eyes moved from his arm to Minseok’s face, and the other’s eyes were begging him, looking dangerously close to shedding tears (although he didn’t). He didn’t say anything more, just pleading with his eyes, and Sehun wanted to roll his own or shake Minseok’s hand off but he held back. Somehow, Minseok had a way about him that made Sehun feel like he should do something for him, which was very annoying because Sehun didn’t like helping people. But Minseok was innocent, and he hadn’t known about the hidden Categories and he never should have been affected by them. And maybe him being a fellow Korean made Sehun’s very dead heart reach out to him a bit, or maybe it was how childlike Minseok looked, how helpless he was and how much faith he seemed to have in Sehun, even though they were complete strangers. Something about the other boy made Sehun feel just a tiny bit sorry for him.

“There’s nothing I can do,” he told him quietly. A moment later, his phone was ringing as he called Chanyeol’s number. The boy on the other end answered quickly.

“Sehun?”

“Hey Chanyeol,” Sehun replied, his eyes on Minseok’s as the other shook his head. Sehun gave him an apologetic look as he said, “I found your friend.”

“

Being careful to hide his identity upon reaching China wasn’t really something that crossed Minseok’s mind. It wasn’t like he knew anybody and, more importantly, no one knew him. During his first day there, after arriving mid-afternoon, checking into a motel and then finding a place to eat, he wandered around the streets, heading in the general direction he thought the prison was. Not a single person looked at him in any way suspiciously – and why would they? As long as he didn’t speak, he could blend right in with everyone. They had no idea what he was doing, that he was a foreigner with a dangerous mission. He was just like everyone else.

Soon enough he did find a computer to check for the prison location, catching a bus that passed right by it. Once the prison was in sight, he got off the bus, not wanting to have the bus stop right outside the place and raising suspicion. Naturally, there would be guards there who would question him, keep their eye on him until he left again. That wasn’t safe.

The Beijing camp, like any other Category camp, was immense; the stone barrier between public and prison had to be three stories high, curving around the area of the holding camp inside. There was only one entrance, an iron gate with thick bars that went up ten or so feet before the stone took over again, creating a small mouth in the rocks. Beyond that gate, if he were to look inside, he would see a stone corridor leading to another door. What was past there, past the door or the walls, was impossible to tell from outside. It was also an extremely unlikely task to try climbing the prison walls. (What Minseok didn’t know was that if he did manage to climb over the wall and somehow get down, there were guards who traversed the inner perimeter anyway, and he’d be killed on the spot.)

He wasn’t there too long when people began exiting through the gates. He wasn’t very close to them, but some came in his direction, others going the opposite way. They were all men, and they all looked like fairly regular citizens. What were they doing? Was it possible that the camp was releasing prisoners? No way… Then who?

They flowed out for a seemingly endless time, easily a hundred of them. Minseok watched them for a moment, but as some of the men drew nearer, he focused on the wall again, using the blankness of the stones as a canvas to draw ideas out upon. How to save Luhan… Before he knew it, Minseok was alone again.

He couldn’t help wondering who those men were.

Within an hour of pacing slowly along a strip of the wall, trying to think of possibilities that didn’t exist, Minseok decided he needed to leave for the night. It was already dark out, and he didn’t really feel like waiting for ten o’clock to come to him. By eight he was back at his motel room, calling it a night. Still, he didn’t turn his phone on.

The night trailed by for him, sleep as evasive as ever. It wasn’t much after ten that sounds began penetrating his window. It was impossible not to notice how uptight everything about this country was right now, everyone overbearingly wary of everything, yet Minseok had not seen a single person attacked in the daylight. He had to wonder why everyone was so worried (other than the fact that innocent people were being marked as Categories; Minseok figured this was only happening during house calls). That night, he found out why the people were so afraid.

Back in Seoul, the people were living in terror, too. It had been bad in the beginning, and for the first several nights all Minseok remembered was screaming filling his ears. But that was far rarer to hear nowadays. Everyone knew, had more or less accepted the situation they were living through. It was a little different in China. Not that Minseok would dare to ever chance a peek, but out in the streets it was gory chaos. There was a reason people stayed inside. At night, everything became free grounds for everyone, meaning by morning the streets were littered with any bodies who had dared to go outside.

This had been the way things were since October began. The first of October had marked the halfway point between the beginning of the government’s plan (announced August 1^st) and the day the killings would finally cease, the projected day when three-point-five billion would be reached (being December 1^st). Afterwards, the bodies would all be collected and sent off into space. Meanwhile, the death count still needed to be reached, and that wouldn’t happen at the rate things were going. Up until October, far less than half of the quota was met, though the counter seen by the world showed otherwise (so as to not raise suspicion). For the second half of the killing period, the attacks on the eighth, ninth, and tenth Categories began freely so the required number was reached. Which meant that since the first of October, China (among several other countries) was being slaughtered.

It was only a matter of days before the Chinese population realized they were under attack, that a lot of their population would be killed at random. Therefore, the citizens began killing one another to raise the body count and save their own skins. However, it was still illegal to kill someone who hadn’t had the opportunity to be Confirmed, so anyone who was caught killing or brought a body in was killed too. That was when the murders started occurring at night. Anyone out on the streets after dark was dead before they knew it. But soon people caught on to that, too, and stopped going outside, and the death-seeking citizens evolved further, beginning house raids where they entered a home and killed those inside.

Needless to say, people locked their doors and barricaded themselves inside. Paranoia set in, the people anticipating attacks to begin during the daytime, and going near neither doors nor windows at night. By dawn, the streets would be filled with bodies dragged out of their homes for guards to clean up, and then the streets would be clean again and it would be as though nothing was ever wrong.

The news showed nothing about what was happening, filtered by the government. Internet was all but banned, extremely limited in any case. Calling other countries was impossible from any Chinese cell or house phone. Contact with the rest of the world wasn’t allowed; even though every other country’s government was aware of what was occurring, the general public was not, and they naturally might become concerned.

As Minseok tried to fall asleep through the sounds of death that he couldn’t ignore, he wondered what would happen once it was all over.

“

Three full days went by without Kyungsoo seeing Jongin at all, other than a couple hours at work when their shifts overlapped one day. At that time, not a word or even a glance passed between them (well, Kyungsoo glanced a lot, but Jongin never looked his way). After those three days, Kyungsoo felt so sick in his heart, chest feeling so painfully weighted that he actually called in sick at work. It was only a four-hour afternoon shift, otherwise he would have forced himself to go in so as not to inconvenience Joonmyun. But a short shift was easier to give away, especially a one-to-five.

The day he spent at home, he stayed in bed late, and tried to read a book to take his mind off the world, but he found it too difficult to focus on the pages. Instead, he moved into the living room, the TV and set up a series of Pokémon episodes. This was bearable, though his mind strayed to Jongin now and then. To stay distracted, he sang along to the theme song, and tried to say everyone’s lines along with them. (He had watched the show several times over; it was basically all he watched when he put something on, and he was always surprised that he wasn’t sick of it yet.) After a while, he got into it, ending up watching for three hours or so until his stomach was grumbling loudly at him. It was after one, and he figured he couldn’t spend all day watching cartoons on the couch (well, he could; he had called in sick, after all).

Eating a late lunch, he noticed he was beginning to get low on a few things – being importantly, rice, milk, and any sort of meat; also, bananas would be nice – so he took a shower and dressed warmly, preparing to go shopping. It was the last day of October, and cold weather was beginning to set in. Soon, he wouldn’t want to be going outside much at all unnecessarily. Again, he thought of Jongin, spending nights on the streets. It made him feel ill.

When he was on his way back from the grocery store, he peered into the windows of the shops he passed, thinking that something would inspire a gift idea for Jongin, but nothing much interested him. Some windows had signs in them, advertising bands and shows, products with slogans, missing dogs, upcoming events, etc. Kyungsoo wondered if Jongin went to events, to festivals and concerts and whatnot. He himself didn’t. The only time he went anywhere that could be considered an event was when his father brought him to dinners with clients or fellow businessmen or whoever, so he could show off his handsome, intelligent, upcoming son who would one day be extremely successful in the business. Or whatever. Kyungsoo’s acting skills were good enough to cover the fact that he couldn’t care less about being there.

Was there such thing as a drug expo? Maybe Jongin would want to go to that…

His day passed slowly, and eventually out of boredom he found himself making dinner. It was only a little after five and he wasn’t actually that hungry, but any time after five was considered acceptable dinner time in Kyungsoo’s mind, and he had nothing else to do. In no hurry, he prepared and cooked slowly. However, in the midst of his working, things were disrupted by sudden, loud, and urgent knocking on his door, which made him jump and slice his finger open on the knife he’d been using to chop cucumber. (He’d been injuring himself like this a lot lately, little things due to lack of attention which was very unusual for him, and he wasn’t really sure why it was happening.) He glanced at the cut, but it was nothing severe, and then his eyes moved to the door as the knocking renewed.

It wasn’t a very Jongin-sounding knock. Jongin’s knocking was slower, more reluctant. This was… desperate. But if it was Jongin – if something was wrong, he would just let himself in, so maybe it wasn’t him. There was no one else, though.

When Kyungsoo opened the door, he was a bit surprised and more relieved to see Jongin there, happy it wasn’t just some stranger or worse. However, though Jongin too looked slightly relieved for some reason, his eyes were filled with heavy concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked immediately. Kyungsoo frowned, and he couldn’t help looking down at his cut finger, which shed a droplet of blood. Jongin’s eyes followed the sight and widened. “What’s that from?”

“Um, your knocking surprised me and I cut my finger while cooking?” Jongin seemed far too worried over something so small.

“Why did you call in today? You never call in.”

“I wasn’t feeling well,” Kyungsoo shrugged. That was very true. He wasn’t feeling much better now, being confronted by Jongin for the first time in days since he’d walked out this very door. More than that, though, he was confused by Jongin’s rapid-fire questions and lack of explanation.

“You don’t call in,” Jongin echoed. “Especially not over something as small as not feeling well. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Kyungsoo replied shortly. He wasn’t sure why Jongin was so bothered by it. Yes, it was true Kyungsoo did not skip work just because he was a bit under the weather, but how was that Jongin’s problem? “Why, did Joonmyun ask you to take over for me?”

“Yeah, and I was worried like crazy the whole freaking time!” Jongin retorted. “I thought you’d been kidnapped or something, that you’d been found and they’d be torturing you. I was scared I was gonna find you dead…”

Kyungsoo hadn’t thought of that. He didn’t think of people going after him, taking revenge against Jongin or whatever through him. It wasn’t exactly his regular lifestyle, to be caught up in things like that. Of course, that was exactly Jongin’s lifestyle, so these naturally would have been his first thoughts. He’d come here to make sure Kyungsoo was alright, after four days of silence. Kyungsoo wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

“Well, other than a minorly damaged finger, I’m fine,” Kyungsoo assured him coolly. You can go back to pretending I don’t exist now.

Jongin stayed there for a moment without speaking, staring at Kyungsoo like he was trying to find a crack, something to prove he was lying, and then nodded, failing in his search. It seemed like he was going to leave, but then he said, “Can I come in?”

Kyungsoo couldn’t understand him at all. And it was stupid to say yes, to let Jongin keep coming and then just leaving, leaving Kyungsoo to be miserable on his own, and for once Kyungsoo actually felt the willpower to say no to him. But then he remembered going out earlier, in the cold, thinking about Jongin having to stay on the street in this weather, and he crumbled. All he did was nod, and Jongin stepped in once more.

“You should put a band aid on that,” he told Kyungsoo lightly, gesturing at his finger. Kyungsoo just nodded a second time, closing the door behind him. He took Jongin’s advice, heading to the bathroom and tending to his injury quickly, and also composing himself so he could face Jongin again. Four days had gone by with him being a total mess inside, and now with Jongin just suddenly back, his emotions splayed. They took a while for him to get in check again, but he was able to find the cold, indifferent manner he’d had for the past two years eventually, and wore it. Jongin had only been messing things up for a month or so, it wasn’t enough to erase his two years of hard work.

He went back into the main area of the apartment, surprised to find Jongin in the kitchen, having picked up where Kyungsoo left off in preparing his meal. Kyungsoo actually hadn’t been making enough for both of them, but it wouldn’t be hard to cook some more rice and bulgogi.

“Are you hungry?” Kyungsoo asked. Jongin nodded.

“Yeah. I haven’t really eaten much since…” Kyungsoo cringed internally. Since he’d left. Four days without “really” eating much, which likely meant not at all. How was the guy still standing?

Kyungsoo crossed to the opposite counter, breaking off a banana from the bunch he’d just bought today and holding it out to Jongin. “Here. You eat this and I’ll make dinner.” He shooed the younger out of the way, but Jongin looked ready to protest. Kyungsoo forced the banana into his hand. “Go sit at the table,” he ordered, and Jongin just sighed in acceptance.

Soon they were eating wordlessly together, air filled with awkwardness – more than usual. If Kyungsoo was expected to say something, he didn’t, because he felt like his only words would be accusations or frustrations. As to why Jongin wouldn’t say anything, he wasn’t sure; probably because he was reluctant to even be there, and would just leave as soon as he finished.

Which he did. He ate everything and then took his bowl to the sink, and made to go. Kyungsoo stood, but Jongin saw him and shook his head. “Don’t bother asking.”

“I know,” Kyungsoo muttered, as if he hadn’t been about to ask. “But – if you’re not going to stay, at least come back to eat again, alright? You don’t have to stay long, but come eat something at night or whenever.”

Jongin paused, looking up from his shoes, and then he was shaking his head again, laughing humourlessly. “Kyungsoo, do yourself a favour and stop acting like you care.” At that, Kyungsoo’s jaw clenched. He hated that Jongin thought he wasn’t being sincere here, but at the same point he wouldn’t dare say that he did care, because he wasn’t giving Jongin that power over him.

“Fine,” he said coldly. “Don’t come to me when you’re starving and freezing and regretting your words.”

Jongin straightened up, and Kyungsoo froze at the burning look in his eyes. Too fast, there was a hand gripping him tightly by the arm and swinging him around, pressing him against the wall. Oh no. Kyungsoo gulped, but didn’t allow his eyes to squeeze shut like they wanted to, anticipating a punishment but not taking his eyes off Jongin’s, not showing any weakness. He’s mad. Jongin’s eyes bore into his dangerously for the longest two seconds of Kyungsoo’s life, and he waited for the younger to raise a fist against him. But he never did. Rather, Kyungsoo found lips pressed against his own, hard, only lasting briefly before they were gone and Jongin was gone and Kyungsoo didn’t even have time for his mind to catch up with the actions before Jongin had left. In fact, Jongin was probably pretty far away before Kyungsoo even moved.

He raised a hand to his mouth, and was very uncertain what had actually happened. There was so much emptiness filling him that he quickly began doubting that for one short second he had felt whole. He couldn’t have been so full that he was sure he’d been overflowing, not when it had been such a brief action.

Heart still beating loudly in his ears and feeling a bit lightheaded, Kyungsoo took a step towards the table or couch or somewhere he could sit down. Instead, his knees gave out on him, and he fell to the floor on his hands and knees, shaking. He stayed there for a long time.

It was unreasonable for something so small as a kiss to affect him so much. Unreasonable and unfair. Jongin wasn’t allowed to kiss him like he meant it, like Kyungsoo meant something. He couldn’t just do that and leave without the slightest explanation. Not when there were unspoken words behind it that Kyungsoo hadn’t caught.

It felt like a goodbye. Jongin was always saying goodbye. But this time he hadn’t said it, and Kyungsoo was scared that meant he meant it.

“

When Sehun spoke to Minseok outside of the prison camp, Minseok had every right to be terrified. He didn’t know this guy. He’d hardly been there two minutes when Sehun had come out, just like all those men last night, and started yelling at him in Korean. But then Sehun had introduced himself, and though he looked very much unlike a guard (in just a plain white t-shirt and jeans, again no different than the men Minseok had seen yesterday), there was no way for Minseok not to believe him.

For someone who had been considerate enough to help Minseok out without even knowing him, Sehun was not very nice. After he told Minseok to just let Luhan die and not make a big deal out of it, Minseok lost his will to fight the other, the words cutting him like knives. All he could think was that Luhan was just past that wall, and Minseok still couldn’t get in, couldn’t save him. His mind filled with images of his best friend’s corpse, and before he knew it he was at Sehun’s apartment. Only when Sehun made to call Chanyeol did Minseok move again, but even so it wasn’t enough to stop Sehun.

By the time Sehun hung up, Minseok felt like dying.

“Your friends said answer your phone,” Sehun told him quietly. Minseok made no attempt to move or acknowledge the younger. “Do you have a plane ticket home?” No, he didn’t, but he didn’t say anything still. Sehun began scowling again. “Where were you staying? I’m sure you have things to get before you leave.”

That was true. And he had Luhan’s things too. He knew the motel’s checkout time was noon, and it was after eleven now. Not wanting to lose his and Luhan’s stuff, he finally spoke up, telling Sehun the name of the place.

“Well, let’s go there now,” Sehun said. “Then we can come back and I will sleep and you will behave until you have to go home.”

Minseok wasn’t sure when or how he’d be getting home, but he was too miserable to argue. The two went and returned from the motel, and then Sehun did indeed go to his room and sleep, warning Minseok if he even bothered trying to leave, Sehun would just stop him because he was a light sleeper and the place was very loud. Minseok didn’t try to leave. There was nowhere for him to go now anyway.

While Sehun slept, Minseok decided to turn his phone back on after all; he wasn’t feeling any nervousness towards it now. He didn’t feel much of anything right now. And besides, Baekhyun already knew where he was.

He had many, many missed calls from Baekhyun and Chanyeol, and several more messages asking where he was and expressing concern as to whether he was okay or not. Not really reading them, he didn’t respond, but a few minutes later another message came in anyway. Likely Baekhyun had noticed that Minseok had finally seen his messages.

“Hyung, are you okay?”

It was a close thing that Minseok didn’t just throw his phone across the room. Instead he just typed back no and dropped the thing down beside him, lying back on Sehun’s small couch and trying to tune out the world. He refused to believe he’d managed to escape Baekhyun just to be caught by Sehun; he couldn’t be sent back now, not to the people who had given up on trying to help him. The days were running out to get Luhan back safely to him, and he was the closest he’d ever been, just a wall between them… He shouldn’t have been so careless, he should’ve thought about Sehun, hidden himself, ran before Sehun could take him in.

He was still crying when Sehun came back out of his room hours later.

Sehun offered him dinner around four, and though he hadn’t actually eaten since the previous night, he refused the other. However, soon enough the familiar scent of kimchi ramen was filling the small apartment, and Minseok might have found it amusing that this hardened boy who was supposed to be a prison guard was making himself ramen like a college student. In the mood he was in, Minseok didn’t laugh, but his stomach did rumble painfully. Still, he wasn’t going to eat.

It was a surprise when Sehun brought out two bowls and sets of chopsticks. He sat one bowl down on the coffee table in front of Minseok, and began eating his own without a word. Minseok’s stomach whined, and Sehun didn’t look at him, but the older knew he was waiting for him to eat. Sehun was halfway through his bowl when Minseok caved and picked up his own still-steaming bowl and began eating.

“Do you have a ticket home, then?” Sehun asked while he ate. Minseok shook his head. He couldn’t avoid it forever, after all. What was Sehun’s plan if Minseok couldn’t pay for himself to get home? Maybe he would get to stay a while longer. “We’ll go to the airport tomorrow and get you one, then.” Or not.

“I’m not making you pay for me,” Minseok muttered.

“I don’t pay,” Sehun returned. Minseok frowned. Did Sehun expect him to pay, then? “I’m a guard, I travel free.” Oh. So much for staying. Sehun would make him leave tomorrow. Without Luhan.

Minseok definitely considered going out after ten that night, but he knew Sehun would catch him before he made it outside.

As planned, the next morning Minseok went with Sehun to the airport, and though the younger didn’t wear his uniform (which he likely left at the prison at all times) he had ID to identify him as a guard, and without any questions he was handed a ticket to Korea for a few hours from now. Though there hadn’t been many words passed between them – because Minseok wasn’t making any efforts to talk, and he had the feeling Sehun wasn’t much of the talking type, either – Sehun stayed with Minseok until his plane arrived, telling him not to come back again.

Minseok knew he wouldn’t be able to come back now, and leaving China behind felt the same as leaving Luhan to die. Walking to the plane, alone, and soon walking back into his apartment without Luhan, was more than he would be able to handle. But he would have to.

He blinked, and found tears in his eyes.

2,829,406,052.

“

The prospect of seeing Minseok again sort of got under Chanyeol’s skin a bit. After the way Baekhyun had been the past two days, he figured that was only natural. Baekhyun was blaming himself entirely, had cried non-stop until he made himself sick. Even now as they waited for the older at the airport, Baekhyun was looking pale, having yet to have recovered from his cold which had only got increasingly worse since Minseok left. (Though when Sehun had called to say he’d found Minseok, Baekhyun seemed to improve a bit.) Anyway, Chanyeol was holding a bit of a grudge against the older for what he was doing to his boyfriend.

Alright, it hadn’t been Minseok’s intention to hurt Baekhyun the way he had, and Chanyeol knew that, but as always when Baekhyun’s safety (physically or otherwise) was endangered, Chanyeol wasn’t necessarily fair. If there was someone or something he could blame, he would. Thus why, when Minseok’s plane was announced to arrive, Chanyeol’s stomach tightened in a slew of annoyance, anger, and disapproval as Baekhyun jumped up and watched as a crowd entered the airport, standing on his toes to search for their friend. Had Baekhyun already forgotten how much torture the older had put him through?

Evidently, he had, because he waiting with nervous excitement while people passed and they weren’t Minseok. However, soon enough among the people was a very recognizable face, with a very dead look in his eyes. For a moment, Chanyeol forgot about being mad at Minseok. The boy looked like he was barely holding himself up. Despite that, Baekhyun ran at him, throwing his arms around him and almost knocking them both out of balance. By the time Chanyeol reached the two, Minseok had regained his composure from the shock, Baekhyun was babbling about how worried he’d been and if Minseok was alright, and Chanyeol was feeling irritated again.

“…anyway, I’m just glad you’re home safe,” Baekhyun was saying, slightly teary as he held tight to Minseok. Minseok wasn’t looking at him, just staring blankly ahead, whatever going through his head torturing him and keeping his attention somewhere very distant. “Why don’t we go to your apartment and I’ll make something for us to eat? I’m sure you’re hungry…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Minseok said emptily. “It’s all over now, isn’t it? You won’t let me save him, you won’t help me save him. So that’s it.”

Chanyeol watched as Baekhyun’s expression saddened, and he couldn’t help wondering about Minseok. The boy was so devastated, heartbroken – almost, too much. Of course, he had a right to be upset, very upset even. This was one of the closest friends Minseok had – Luhan and Baekhyun were his top two, and though Chanyeol usually would rather Luhan be number one (he was still a little jealous when it came to Baekhyun), it seemed unfair now. But there was something that made him think, maybe this was affecting Minseok more than it would if it were Baekhyun, or just another friend. Maybe there was something beyond friendship between him and Luhan…

He and Baekhyun had joked about it before, but of course they’d never been serious. But then, things had happened, things had been said, and now, with the way Minseok was acting – like his world was literally falling apart in his hands, because of losing Luhan – it made Chanyeol wonder…

But then, like Minseok said, Chanyeol supposed it didn’t matter. Not anymore. Maybe one day he could ask about it, but it didn’t make a difference now.

A/n: ~~ So it turns out the clock is a lie, hoho. Also, we'll see more of iu's interactions from Sehun's POV in the next chapter. In other news, I've written over 16K words for this fic in the past week, and I'm sorry for overloading you, but at least it will hold you over until I update again. (Also, it's been a while so I'm making up for it.)

Anyway, tell all your friends about this fic, I'm sad it's not getting as much attention as Miscalc got (though I'm not really surprised, but still.. ㅠㅠ). I'd love lots of comments <3 I'll update again sometime (maybe soon, but likely not in three days again)! ㅅ.ㅅ