[title song: sayonara hitori - taemin]
[13k to make it up to you guys]

 chapter 25;

recap of last chapter: hyemi has another vision, but this time her mother's in it. she reveals that hyemi has to make a choice that probably won't end well. she also reveals that yeonma isn't her biggest worry and someone far worse is controlling the god of death; someone she will have to confront with the help of twelve people in order to enter the temple of dreams, the birthplace of the tree of life and a place that holds unimaginable power, power that cannot fall into the wrong hands unlessshe wants to see everything fall apart at the seams. after her vision, baekhyun, hyemi, jongdae, and sehun know they need a new plan, but before they can decide on anything, they're attacked by mysterious bow-wielding girls--or rather hunters, who seem to have something against "freaks" like hyemi and co. the last thing that hyemi remembers is being paralyzed by these hunters and thrown into a carriage and that's what you missed on glee!

Hyemi wakes up feeling clammy and…wet?

Hyemi blinks, immediately jolting upright, or at least she tries to because just as she jolts upwards, she realizes that she can’t move her limbs. Slowly, she blinks the unconsciousness out of her eyes and glances around, lifting her head the few centimeters that she’s able to, and realizes that she’s in a bathtub filled with water, her head resting against the edge of the bathtub, just one small movement away from her head falling into the bathtub and possibly drowning. Great, she thinks. Especially when she realizes that her limbs are tied down, her arms strapped over the side of the bathtub, and her legs are chained to something below the murky water, so tightly that she can only move a couple centimeters before pain shoots up her arms and legs because of the pressure against her limbs and the awkward turn of her limbs.

She feels dizzy, her head spinning, even as she cranes her neck and takes in her surroundings, her skin clammy. She’s in a small room, she realizes, and surprisingly enough it’s well-lit, dauntingly bright despite her current situation. There’s a sink in the corner and she recognizes a familiar arrow hanging from the top right corner of the mirror, faint pinkish gas emanating from it. If she really pays attention, there’s a faint pink tinge hanging throughout the brightly lit room, like soft fog, and it makes Hyemi’s heart drop to her stomach because that means she can’t use her powers in any way. She doesn’t know where Sehun or Jongdae or Baekhyun are and it makes the dread even worse because she’s alone. They could be dead.

So she stays like that, shivering in the murky water she’s forced to lie in, as she tries and tries and tries to not dwell on who exactly captured them and what they were planning on doing to her and her friends.

And then there’s a click at the door, the doorknob rattling along with a soft jingle of keys. The door swings open and a girl walks in, her hair a soft blonde and her eyes filled with apprehension, pinned on the mirror and the arrow hanging there. It’s like she’s purposefully avoiding looking at Hyemi and the bathtub completely.

So Hyemi clears . The girl jumps, covering as her eyes flicker to Hyemi before she focuses on the far wall.

Hyemi frowns at her before she bites out a sardonic, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you there.”

The girl presses her lips into a thin line, her face taut, and she doesn't answer Hyemi, which only angers Hyemi more.

Hyemi glares at her, watching as the girl walks up to the bathroom mirror and gets on the very tip of her toes, her blonde hair cascading down her back as she carefully replaces the arrow with a new one.

"Who are you? Where am I?" Hyemi snaps, knowing full well that the girl can feel Hyemi's piercing gaze on her, judging from the way the girl's back tenses.

The girl never answers, she doesn't even spare Hyemi a glance, turning on her heels and striding out the room, the door clicking shut behind her. There's a series of bolts clicking shut behind her and Hyemi's blood runs cold, colder than the water she's lying in.

~.~.~.~.~

The next time the door opens, Hyemi groggily glances up at the unfamiliar figure. She shivers in the cold water, frowning because she’s starting to lose feeling in her toes and fingers and that’s definitely not a good sign. The girl from before doesn’t come around this time, she registers that almost immediately, but the figure standing at the door looks the tiniest bit familiar, like she’s seen him somewhere before, but Hyemi can’t seem to figure out where. She just lies in the tub, craning her neck in a way that hurts more than she wants to let him know, and her limbs are numb. She’s cold, horribly so, and she can’t feel her nose, even as she sniffles, her fingers clenching and unclenching as she stares at the man through the soft pink fog.

He has silver hair, so dark that it fades into black, and a face so angular, it’s almost sharp. His eyes, however, are far from sharp. There’s a softness to them, an inherent kindness that he can’t seem to mask no matter how twisted his frown is or how clenched his jaw is. He’s leaning against the bathroom door and staring at her, attempting and failing at filling his kind eyes with blank coldness. He locks eyes with her and he just stares. Despite those inherently kind eyes, she’s still absolutely terrified of the fact that he’s not moving, that he’s leaning against the doorframe, muscular arms crossed, and just keeps staring at her, holding her gaze firmly, almost daring her to look away first.

Which she does. She looks away first, because her neck is angled painfully and it hurts, and also because kind eyes don’t always mean kind acts and she’s scared, she’s scared and she doesn’t want him to know that she is. She lays her head back, glancing at him through her peripheral vision. That’s when she gets that fleeting feeling again, the feeling that she should know him somehow, somewhere.

“Who are you?” She murmurs, demands really. sounds dry, scratchy, and she winces internally at the way her teeth are chattering, making her voice waver weakly. She tilts her chin downwards, so she can see him better, and he’s still staring at her, but this time, he’s chewing on his bottom lip, almost contemplatively.

He raises a brow at her, the action strangely delicate despite his sharp, angled form. “Does it matter?” His voice holds a grave sort of finality that makes her stiffen.

Hyemi watches, terrified, as the man steps into the room, one step, two steps, three steps closer to her tub, before he’s standing over her, still staring at her with an unnerving look, one that makes her colder than the damn water she’s submerged in. She drops her head back against the edge of the tub, eyes pinned on the man, and he scrutinizes her face.

“What’s your name?” He asks, almost nonchalantly, conversationally.

She stares at him.

He clicks his tongue, reaching out, and she can’t even move her head away, closing her eyes as he brushes damp, matted hair out of her eyes, “What is your name, darling?” And there’s something so, so menacing, threatening, about the way he says those words and she realizes right then that those kind eyes absolutely do not guarantee kindness and she’s more than just scared. She’s terrified.

“Hye—Hyemi.” She stumbles over her words for a moment, before she steadies her voice determinedly, “Song Hyemi.”

He hums, but there’s no recognition in his kind eyes, and she doesn’t know whether she should be glad or even more terrified. She blinks at him, “Wh—who are y—you?” She hates the way her teeth chatter, her lips numb from the cold water she’s been stuck in.

“I don’t have to answer that question, you know.” He says. She just stares at him and he sighs. She watches as he drags a chair, the one that’s leaning against the wall, across the floor, the legs scraping across the cold floor loudly, the sound grating to her ears. He drags it up to the bathtub and spins it around, straddling the chair as he places his elbows on the back of the chair, tilting his head at her as he leans his chin against his hands.

“I—I know.” She murmurs, responding when she realizes he’s waiting for her to speak.

He smiles then, “Jonghyun.” He pauses for a long moment, the silence between them stifling, and Hyemi sniffles because of her body’s dropping temperature. “Won’t you ask me why you’re here?”

Hyemi glares at him, or rather the ceiling since her neck hurts and she just doesn’t have the willpower or the strength to hold her head up anymore. She just nods at the ceiling. He chuckles, but he doesn’t answer.

“What are your powers?” He asks, bluntly.

She blinks, but she shakes her head, “Why do you want to know? Wh—why are you here?”

There’s a pause, uncomfortably long.

“I’m just here to ask you a few questions.” Jonghyun tells her, almost conversationally. She glances at him through the corner of her eyes and he observes her carefully, “Depending, on your answers, or lack thereof, we’ll figure out exactly what to do with you.”

The way he says it makes the hair at the back of her neck stand on end. “Wh—what to do with me?” She repeats, hesitantly.

“You’re a Child of the Second Moon.” Jonghyun explains, as if that’s explanation enough.

“S—so?” She grumbles at the ceiling, mouth twisting into a frown.

“So?” Jonghyun laughs, a lovely sound that bounces off the small room’s walls. It sounds so kind and it scares the hell out of her because she has no idea what he’s up to. “That’s cute.” He giggles to himself and her fingers curl around the edge of the bathtub, her frown deepening.

“I don’t understand.”

He’s still laughing, but then he must see her face, because suddenly his laughter dies out and there’s a sudden tension in the room, settling over the two of them like a thick wool blanket.

She lifts her head to look at him and he’s staring at her with something akin to surprise.

“Your…kind.” Jonghyun pauses, his eyes flickering off to the door and back before he continues, “You’re worth quite a bit in the underground market, depending on what you can do.”

Hyemi stares at him, stares and stares and stares until her neck hurts, until she’s dropping her head back down and she’s trying her best to suppress the fear blooming at the pit of her stomach. “You’re going to…to sell me—us.”

Her voice shakes even more than before and she knows she can’t just chalk it up to the water temperature.

There’s a long pause before Jonghyun speaks, voice low. “Some of your powers come in handy to the rich, lazy types. Cheap labor, really. There are also coliseums where people like to watch the really powerful and the very weak fight to the death. It’s interesting, entertaining, ing deserving, some say. Others. Others are very superstitious. A strand of a Second Moon Child’s hair soaked in bathtub moonshine can cure the worst of migraines. Their finger nails and bones hung along the threshold of a home can keep misfortune and evil at bay. Their organs, their livers, their hearts, their intestines. Oh, wow, those are rumored to do so much. It’s said these parts can heal, ward off evil spirits, and even end hunger for weeks on end.”

Hyemi’s stomach churns at his words, flinching when he curses, his low voice only adding to the sick feeling at the pit of her stomach, and she mumbles, “That’s awful.”

Another pause.

“It’s none of my business what my customers do after they’ve bought the merchandise.” His voice sounds cold, disjointed, unattached. But then he sighs and adds, “But I agree.”

She looks at him, from the corners of her eyes, and watches as he stands. “Then don’t do it.” She takes a deep breath, ignoring the pride swelling in her chest, despite the situation she’s currently in. The pride telling her not to beg for her life, not to show fear. But she can’t help it, not when she’s clearly out of options. So she whispers, hoarsely, “Please. Just let me and my friends go. Don’t make us—don’t do this.”

Jonghyun’s silver hair glints in the harsh lighting as he shakes his head, “I can’t do that.” He looks grim, pausing at the doorway as he looks back at her over his shoulder. “I hope next time you’ll be able to answer my questions. Today will be the only pass you get.”

And then he disappears through the door.

 ~.~.~.~.~

Hyemi shivers in the tub and wonders if she’ll die of hypothermia before they ever get the chance to sell her off. Fear bubbles up in her chest at the thought, sharp and painful, but she shoves it down, down, down, because she can’t and won’t deal with that right now. She needs to keep a level head. But she already can’t feel her feet, not just her toes, and when she flexes her fingers, they feel numb, though she’s grateful that her hands aren’t submerged in water too.

Then the door swings open and she recognizes Jonghyun by his silver hair and the poorly concealed sweetness in his eyes, even as he leans against the door hinge yet again and stares at her, not quite entering the room. He purses his lips, “Do you have an answer?”

She wants out of this tub, that’s all she can think of. Her wrists are raw from pulling at her restraints and her neck is sore from being pressed against the cold bathtub. She’s pretty sure she has a very bad fever, because of the cold water, because of the amount of time that she’s been in here, though she can’t even keep track of that because there’s no way to keep track of it. She wants out and the only way she’s going to get it is if she gives Jonghyun, the Hunters, what they want. Heaven knows what happened to Baekhyun, Sehun, and Jongdae and she doesn’t want to think about it, she doesn’t have the mental and emotional capacity to think about it right now. She feels like absolute and the panic is hard to keep down.

“I—It’s d—destruction.” opens and closes but her words come out disjointed.

“Destruction?” Jonghyun sounds thoughtful.

She nods, stiffly. She doesn’t want to hear the weakness in her voice right now.

“So it really is you?” Jonghyun raises a brow and he looks slightly in awe and she blinks at him, startled by his words.

“Wh—what?”

“The vessel.” Jonghyun clarifies.

Hyemi stiffens, nodding quickly, and for a moment, a small moment, there’s a flicker of hope coursing through her, “Yes, yes it’s me. Will you—will you let me out?”

Then Jonghyun laughs and Hyemi’s blood turns cold, the hope immediately disappearing, “So many people are willing to pay millions for your head, Hyemi. Of course I’m not letting you out.”

~.~.~.~.~

The next time Hyemi opens her eyes, she realizes that she’s standing in a dark room, chains circling around her wrists, her legs, and a hard wall pressed against her back, the room pitch black. She can’t move. There’s no water though, no tub, and she thinks that’s a relief, despite everything. Her limbs still feel awfully cold.

Then a door creaks open, metal hinges squeaking loudly in the quiet darkness, grating to her ears, and she blinks rapidly, trying to adjust quickly to the sudden light flooding into the room—a dirt room that’s barely the size of a closet, she then realizes.

A hooded figure walks into the room, pausing right in front of her. There’s a certain quality to the feeling of all this, to the feeling of the person in front of her and the room around her, that makes her wonder if this is a vision. But there’s also something about this situation that feels entirely too real, realer than anything she’s ever felt before, and it confuses and terrifies her. The person doesn’t touch her, she can’t see their face, but she remembers the hooded figure she saw in one of her visions earlier and she wonders if this is the same person. She wonders if she’ll see this person’s face. She wonders how she’s having another vision when she’s not supposed to be able to use her powers, unless her visions aren’t even a part of her powers in the first place.

The hooded figure reaches out, with gloved hands, and brushes a strand of stringy, matted hair out of her face, dragging it away, their touch cold. She looks up, peering at the peak of a nose beneath the hood, though she can’t make out any other part of the person’s face.

“Oh.” The person says and their voice sounds strange, distorted to her ears, like she’s hearing it through a long, winding tunnel, all intonation and identifying factors lost somewhere in that tunnel. For some awful reason, there’s a clarity to his voice, his words that seem to break through all the haze. The person at the other side of the tunnel sounds so much more present than anything else she’s ever heard, even though their voice is distorted and distant. It’s ridiculously confusing, just like their next words, “This won’t do. This won’t do at all.” The person sounds annoyed, absolutely irritated, “You’re not where I want you just yet, sweetheart.”

She blinks up at the hooded figure, trying to process their words. What do they mean? What does any of this mean?

But then their image starts to distort, crackling in place, and she watches as their image flickers in and out, in and out, along with the room she’s in, until everything goes pitch black.

Until she’s opening her eyes, slowly, one at a time, and she’s staring at a familiar, dark haired man whose gaze is locked just above hers, slightly off to the side as if he’s looking right through her. He’s sitting on the floor, between two tables, a purplish-red bruise blooming across his handsome face, just under his eye. His lips are swollen, as if he’s been punched in the face multiple times. And his face is so incredibly familiar. She’s seen him before, but she can’t place exactly where.

“You came.” He says, his voice soft, deep.

She blinks, leaning back, but then she realizes that he really is looking right through her. They’re pinned right over her eyes and she realizes that he can’t even see her. This is another vision. Her head snaps to the side, swiveling so she can see what he’s looking at.

She turns around and Jonghyun is standing at the door, leaning against it the same way he did when he visited her. His hair is black this time around, a deep, dark color that makes him look paler, the lines of his face harsher. His kind eyes are much more apparent now, kinder and softer than she remembers seeing them.

Jonghyun just walks up to the dark haired man, up to her, and she panics, stepping aside, remembering too late that he can’t even see her. Neither of them can. She watches Jonghyun crouch in front of the dark haired man, squatting in place. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Jonghyun reaches out to touch his face, gently cupping the bruises with careful fingers, like the tall man is absolutely fragile, like he will break with the tiniest bit of excess pressure. He doesn’t look like it to Hyemi, though. The dark haired man looks like anything but yet Jonghyun touches his face so, so carefully and the dark haired man seems to crumple against the wall, between the desks, melting into the hand as he closes his eyes, pain and sadness and exhaustion deepening the lines on his face. There’s a vulnerability there that reminds her of Baekhyun and it makes her heart twist in her chest. He looks utterly exhausted and all Hyemi can do is watch and wonder why she’s having visions about this, about these people, about a moment that feels entirely too intimate for her to see.

And then—

“Minho.” Jonghyun’s voice is low, the same kind of voice he used with Hyemi not too long ago. “You can’t save them all.”

Minho.

Hyemi remembers that name, when she had watched Taeyeon’s life flash before her eyes. Minho, the tall man Taeyeon was so, so close to, to the point where Hyemi suspects there was something going on between them. But then he had left, walked away, after their friend’s funeral—what Taeyeon speculated as the sole reason for why everything went to hell the way it did.

It’s Minho.

And then she supposes that perhaps the reason why Jonghyun looks so familiar is because he was one of the friends, one of Taeyeon’s friends, Minho’s friends, who walked away from her when Minho did. They looks so young here, barely adults, though the way they carry themselves tells her that they’ve seen more than any barely adult, any teenager, should have seen.

(Hyemi doesn’t understand why she’s seeing this, why all these visions are intertwined with the lives of so many people she’s just met.)

“I can try, can’t I?” Minho mumbles, sighing loudly as he opens his eyes. Between the desks and Jonghyun’s crouching body, Minho looks so utterly tiny and it’s devastating to witness, even if they’re strangers to Hyemi, to watch someone who seems so utterly strong, so encompassing, look so broken.

“You’re a hunter now.” Jonghyun sighs, retracting his hand as he drags both his hands through his hair and down his face, seemingly just as exhausted as Minho. “Saving people. That’s not a part of our job description anymore.”

“But it was—”

“It wasn’t.” Jonghyun cuts him off, voice sharp, despite the way his voice is muffled by his hand. His hair sticks up all over the place as he stares at Minho with piercing eyes, “Goddammit, man, it wasn’t your ing fault. None of us could have known and—”

“Taeyeon thought it was. I lost my powers because of her. Did I tell you that? She looked at me like she hated me and she was crying and screaming and then she somehow just…took my powers from me? Because of—because of—she’s always adored him and I just—she—”

“She didn’t. She just—she lost control. She wasn’t thinking straight. You know how she always tended to do that. Now you’re beating yourself up over something that was an accident. She probably is, too. Everyone is. Everyone is, Minho. Everyone adored him. That’s why Tae—Taemin and Kibum and—and—Ji…Jin—” Jonghyun takes a deep, shaky breath, before he drops out of his crouch and onto his , arms circling his knees, his bottom lip caught in his teeth as he chews over his next words, contemplatively. His kind eyes are glassy, teary. “But you left and now I hear that she’s gone off the deep end, Min.”

Minho grimaces at his lap, unable to meet Jonghyun’s eyes. “She hates me. They all do.”

“She doesn’t. I don’t—I don’t think they do either.” Jonghyun whispers. He sighs, again, “But after she hears about all this hunter business, maybe she really will. Ji—he certainly would.” It’s quiet again, so, so quiet, the tension thick. Until Jonghyun’s voice echoes all around them, soft, gentle, but firm, “You left her when she needed you most. You do realize that, right?”

Minho doesn’t say a word, just stares at his hands.

Jonghyun keeps speaking, his eyes glassy, hardening with each sentence, though the inherent kindness is never quite extinguished no matter how hard he tries to hide it. “Fix it, Minho, fix it before it’s too late.”

He sounds like he’s pleading.

“I—I hate her, too.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“She took my powers away and she—she killed people. And I hate her. I hate her and… her kind.” He tries to spit out the word but it sounds weak, like he’s just trying to convince himself. “That includes the others. They chose—they chose the other path.”

“You don’t mean that.” Jonghyun whispers, his voice cracking halfway through.

Minho’s eyes grow steely, his lips set into a thin line.

 “If you don’t agree with me, then go. Leave. I don’t want you doing things you don’t want to do. Besides, you can still fit in with them.” Minho says, his tone half-harsh, half-scared, because the offer is up in the air and even Hyemi knows that Minho doesn’t really want Jonghyun to leave, no matter how steely his eyes are.

Jonghyun laughs and it sounds bitter, twisted. There are tears welling in his eyes, but he shakes his head vigorously, “Wherever you go, I follow. That was a promise I intend to keep.” Jonghyun states, tone firm.

Minho smiles and the scene dissolves right in front of her, reforming into a cozy looking room.

Minho’s handing a sturdy looking bow and arrow off to that girl, the one with dark hair that fades into orange, and she grins, scrutinizing the bow’s shiny wood carefully as she walks out of the room, so immersed in her inspection that she bumps right into Jonghyun’s on her way out and his way in. Jonghyun laughs, steadying her, and she grins at him before disappearing, just as Jonghyun steps into the room.

Jonghyun has silver hair now and he looks much older than before, around the same age he did when Hyemi first met him. Minho looks older, too, more handsome, though his eyes look infinitely more ancient, deeper and full of secrets.

All she sees is Jonghyun staring at Minho, inquisitively, and Minho staring right back.

“Do you still hate them?” Jonghyun asks and the way he says it, the way Minho reacts to the question, makes it seem like this isn’t the first or second or one hundredth time Jonghyun’s asked it. This isn’t the first or second or one hundredth time Minho’s answering it.

“Yes.”

Jonghyun nods, slowly, seemingly disappointed for a moment.

“It’s never too late to fix things.”

“But it is. After all this,” Minho gestures around him, at their surroundings, towards the door the orange haired girl disappeared through, towards everything, “It’s too late.”

“It’s not.” Jonghyun tells him, tone adamant, slightly pleading, just like before. “It’s not.”

Minho just sighs and the sound of it echoes in her ears, pounding against her eardrums until she’s gasping for air she can’t seem to get enough of, her limbs going stiff and she’s—

~.~.~.~.~

“What the hell was that?” Jonghyun is hovering over her and his kind eyes are filled with anger that looks utterly out of place on his face.

She’s soaking wet, that’s the first thing she notices, that she’s dripping with water from her head to her toes. She takes a deep, deep, steadying breath, but her chest hurts when she in for air. Then she realizes that she’s on the floor and she’s not restrained anymore and she sits up, her chest, her lungs, burning with the movement, her hand slipping on the wet floor beneath her for a moment. Jonghyun is crouched next to her, staring at her in anger and horror and something else she can’t quite place.

She rubs at her raw wrists, her fingers still numb and cold and tinged blue which is probably not good at all, and she looks up at him, holding his gaze.

He blinks rapidly, glaring still, “You were…you were drowning.”

“Oh, was I?” She rasps out, her voice scratchy as she blinks in surprise at the development.

His glare deepens, “Don’t act so casual about it.” And then she sees the slight horror, the slight worry, and she knows he heard her saying something while she was in her vision. “You also…you said a name.”

She sits up fully and he scoots back, sitting cross-legged beside her. His sharp jaw tenses in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the bathroom. She shivers, pushing her wet hair out of her face. She looks him right in the eyes as she says, “Minho?”

Jonghyun stiffens, crossing his arms. He looks a bit like a petulant child, sitting cross-legged that way while crossing his arms, jaw locked.

“How do you know his name?”

“Are you going to kill me for that?” Hyemi raises a brow and she’s sure she doesn’t look intimidating at all. In fact, she probably looks like a drowned puppy, but she doesn’t even care. “If so, go right ahead. I’d rather that then get sold off.”

“I asked you a question.” Jonghyun stares her down and it’s honestly a very frightening look on him. She gulps but she doesn’t give in. She’s out of the tub and that’s all that matters to her.

“Am I not supposed to know his name? Is it a secret, Jonghyun?”

“Yes. Yes, it ing is.”

“Then what about Taeyeon? Is she a secret, too?”

And then Jonghyun freezes, his eyes boring into her like she’s just grown another head. Hyemi doesn’t stop, still shivering from the chill that seems to have permanently seeped into her bones.

“Taemin? Kibum? Who’s the other one? It starts with a J? Jin—” Hyemi clamps shut, not just because she doesn’t know the full name and it’s a bluff, but also because Jonghyun has a knife at , the sharp end pressed against her skin just so. If she moves a centimeter, even breathes the wrong way, it could dig into and she’d be done for. It appears out of thin air and her eyes widen as she glances between his face and the knife in his hands, back and forth back and forth until it’s all she sees. The panic and fear escapes, just a bit, and a whimper bubbles out of her lips before she grits her teeth, shoving it down.

“Answer my damn question.” Jonghyun growls out, leaning closer as he peers at her face.

“I…vision.” She mumbles, giving in immediately when he presses the knife further into her neck and the pain makes her heart thrum against .

“A vision?” Jonghyun stares at her, disbelief written all over his face. He laughs, loudly and mockingly, “You have got to be kidding me. At least come up with a better lie.”

“It’s true.” Hyemi says, quickly, scowling a bit for being accused of lying of all things. She’s not stupid enough to stare down the end of a knife and make up some ridiculous lie, “It’s part of being a vessel to the tree.”

With each word that leaves , Jonghyun’s expression only grows more and more disbelieving, until she’s franticly trying to figure out a way to get him to believe her, because she’s pretty damn sure he’s going to slit otherwise.  

“Okay…okay, if you don’t believe that, then would you believe that I know Taeyeon? I’ve met her and I’ve spoken to her. She told me about…about Minho. She told me about her childhood. I know her.” Hyemi speaks rapidly, the words spilling from her lips.

That’s when Jonghyun pauses, blinking as the hand clamped in her hair loosens and he slowly pulls the knife away from , allowing her to breathe, reaching up to rub at her neck, forcing herself to ignore the warm dampness there from the little bit of blood he had spilled.

It’s quiet between the two of them for a long, long time, and Hyemi just holds her neck in her hands, ignoring the stinging pain as she stares at Jonghyun warily. She tries to gauge the distance between where she sits and the door, the logistics of subduing him long enough to get out of that door. It’s impossible. She’s so screwed.

Jonghyun sits back on his heels, his eyes pinning Hyemi down. She watches, wide-eyed, as he tucks his knife back into its holster at his waist without ever looking away from her. And then he whispers, “How is she?”

Hyemi mulls over her answer, thinking back on how Taeyeon had acted throughout her visit, how she had screamed her head off when they left. “Strange. Determined. Sad.” She whispers back, carefully examining each word in her head before it leaves (a small voice at the back of her head that sounds annoyingly like Baekhyun seems amused at the irony of her choosing to think before she speaks), “But. But she’s making the most of what she has.”

Jonghyun just nods, dipping his head down, “Good.”

It’s so sincere that Hyemi can’t help but stare.

Hyemi rubs her neck, the stinging pain making her wince as she thinks of the coffin from her vision about Taeyeon’s life, “Someone died, didn’t they? And then Minho walked away.” Hyemi watches Jonghyun nod, his expression pinched. Hyemi keeps speaking, because she realizes then that maybe she can talk her way out of this, like she used to do so many times in high school. Talking will keep her alive. “That killed her, you know? When you all walked away. Everyone left her and all she had was that goddamn code and then she was pretty much banished to a doomed city and—”

“She was banished?” Jonghyun’s eyes snap up to meet Hyemi’s, his back going rigid. Hyemi pauses in her breathless rant, stopping abruptly as she observes Jonghyun’s reaction. Then she nods, slowly.

“She’s known about what the God of Death had been doing for years and she’s tried to warn the kingdom. No one reads her letters. No one cared and now it’s too late. Yeonma is creating an army, now.”

“Did you just say…” Jonghyun seems to bristle at the mention of the God of Death. “Yeonma? The God of Death?”

“Y—yeah.” Hyemi stumbles over the word, frowning at the way his eyes widen.

Then he’s pushing himself to his feet, hand outstretched towards Hyemi. “Get up. Come on. Hurry up.”

She blinks, dumbfounded, and he reaches over and drags her onto her feet. She sways, unsteadily, and he doesn’t wait for her to get adjusted, pulling her along behind him, out the door, leaving that horrible room behind them.

~.~.~.~.~

They burst into a cozy looking room, the same room Hyemi saw in her vision about Jonghyun and Minho. And Minho is there, leaning against a table, his eyes casually leaving the girl he’s talking to just to raise a brow at Jonghyun, who’s huffing and still clutching Hyemi’s wrist.

The girl, Hyemi realizes, is the one who had captured them, the one with the hair that faded into a bright orange. Next to her is a girl with the same kind of hairstyle, except this time the ends of her hair is pink instead of orange. The pink haired girl’s grip on her bow tightens when she sees Hyemi, though Hyemi doesn’t know why since she probably looks like a drowned dog suffering from hypothermia rather than an actual threat. Hyemi’s currently shivering at the sudden physical activity and her head spins a little, but she forces herself to keep it together.

(Because the way Jonghyun had reacted to God of Death, to Yeonma, makes her nervous, terrified really, anxiety churning at the pit of her stomach.)

Minho’s eyes dart between Jonghyun and Hyemi before he sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, his handsome face contorting into a grimace, “What are you doing?”

“The highest bidders? Who are they?” Jonghyun ignores Minho’s questions and Hyemi looks between them, confused.

Minho’s brows furrow for a moment, showing the slightest bit of confusion and worry, before his face smooths out and he glances sideways at the orange and pink haired girls. “Irene, can you hand me the bidding list on the coffee table behind you?”

The pink haired girl’s grip only tightens around her bow as she turns around, scanning the messy coffee table behind her until she finds what she’s looking for. The idea of a bidding list makes Hyemi feel sick, her eyes darting to the piece of paper in the pink haired girl’s—Irene’s—hand in horror as she hands it off to Minho.

And then Minho starts reading off the list, his deep voice echoing in the cozy room, bouncing off the walls, “There’s a lot. But third place is someone who goes by the name Min. Seulgi—” Minho gives the orange haired girl a grateful smile and Seulgi grins back. “She looked into him just to make sure he wasn’t a royal cop or something. His name’s actually Yoongi. Second place belongs to the shadow dwellers from that Earth neighborhood over near the wall. That’s a first, really. They never participate in any of these auctions.” Hyemi’s stomach churns at that because that has to be Baekhyun’s family and that’s ing terrifying, her fingers shaking at the thought. Jonghyun notices her reaction, glancing sideways at her. Minho looks at her, smiling wickedly, “A lot of people hate you, you know.”

Hyemi shivers internally, glaring at him as best as she can, “That’s wonderful.”

Minho just smiles, returning his attention to the list.

She watches as Minho drags a finger along the list, eyes searching, before his eyes light up and his finger pauses somewhere in the middle. “And first place is…ah, here. He’s called Yeonma. He’s offering a ridiculous amount of money for her.”

“Oh, no. No, no, no.” Hyemi shakes her head rapidly, glancing between Minho and Jonghyun, her damp hair sticking to her cheeks and that damn fear, that panic, claws at her chest, at her heart, and she hates the way her breathing picks up, her head shaking involuntarily. She hates it and she shoves it away before it can lead to a breakdown of any kind.

“Oh.” Minho doesn’t sound the least bit worried on her behalf, eyeing her curiously, “Do you know him, then?”

“Listen.” Hyemi tugs at her arm but Jonghyun doesn’t let go, though he does glance over at her, Minho raising a brow as he waits for her to speak. Her stomach churns in an uncomfortable sort of way, still raspy and dry. “This—I don’t know why Yeonma’s a part of…all this. But he’s not—”

That’s when Jonghyun interrupts her stumbling words, eyeing Minho with a meaningful expression, eyes sharp. “He’s the God of Death.” His words ring in the silence that follows afterwards.

Hyemi doesn’t understand why Minho’s eyes widen, or why the amused smirk falls from his face, replaced by something more calculating, something she doesn’t like seeing on his face. All she knows is that Jonghyun and Minho seem to be having some sort of silent conversation in their midst and when she looks over at Irene and Seulgi, the girls are exchanging looks of their own, eyes wide and brows raised, questioning, too interested.

“Are you sure?” Minho’s voice is low, edgy, sharp.

Jonghyun nods, briskly. Just once. But it’s enough to make the hairs at the back of Hyemi’s neck stand on end and she’s shaking her head, still glancing back and forth between the two of them, even when Minho finally looks at her, eyes steely.

“We’re hunters, sweetheart.” His voice echoes in the room, his tone making it sound like he thinks that should be explanation enough, and she doesn’t want to know what they’re planning, whether they plan on hunting her and her kind or Yeonma himself, she isn’t quite sure, but one thing she does know is that they’re not on her side. They’re on their own side and they don’t care if they have to kill her (sell her, maim her, tear her limb from limb) to get there and it’s ing terrifying.

(She had still held on to the hope that kind eyes meant kind actions, but that’s clearly not the case, not when Jonghyun won’t let go of her wrist and the kindness is a distorted, twisted version of itself when she gets another chance to look into his eyes.)

“No, you’re not.” Hyemi snaps out, blurting out the words without thinking as she glares at Minho, though panic is still bubbling up in her chest, “Just because you lost your powers doesn’t mean you’re not the same as the ones you hunt. You’re still one of us. Pretending you’re not doesn’t change a thing.” She spits out those words, because she was never one to just keep shut. But she regrets those words the minute they leave .

Because Minho’s expression freezes up until it’s stone-cold and he’s staring at her with blazing dark eyes, like fire tearing at the night sky, the same way the building had gone up in flames in Hyemi’s visions. Jonghyun’s grip on her wrist tightens, almost bruising in its intensity, and she fleetingly thinks that she really should stop antagonizing people who could easily kill her, or worse. “What the fuc—”

She doesn’t hear the rest of his outburst, not when there’s a loud explosion from right behind him, so loud in fact that it shakes the ground beneath them and Jonghyun tenses, his grip on her arm gone as he dives forward, dragging Minho out of the way just before the wall behind him, covered in a million books stuffed into narrow shelves, collapses over, Minho’s eyes wide with surprise. Jonghyun doesn’t manage to save him completely, not when heavy books and debris falls onto both their backs and they both groan in pain, still managing to crawl away, closer to where she stands, despite everything. The wall crumbles to the ground, something heavy ramming into the wall there, and debris fills the room, making Hyemi’s eyes water.

There’s ringing in Hyemi’s ears, as she watches the dust settle, as she watches Seulgi push a large piece of rock off of Irene’s leg, Irene’s face contorted in pain as Seulgi drags her away from the wall and closer to where Hyemi is standing by the door, panic written all across her expression as she fusses over Irene.

Her head spins and she figures it’s either the result of shriveling up in a bathtub for what felt like days or because there’s currently a carriage nestled into the crook of giant hole, the very same carriage that had been there in the clearing when those hunters captured them.

Minho is growling something out, something along the lines of stop her, but Hyemi only hears one voice, ringing over the voices of everyone else. His voice is soft, gentle, coaxing her into focusing on the matter at hand, on the voice at hand.

“Hyemi.” She doesn’t understand why it sounds like his voice is right against the shell of her ear, but she rubs at her eyes anyway, brushing away the dust, and focuses on the carriage. “Sweetheart, hurry. You need to get out of there. Move.”

So she nods, ignores the strange feeling at the pit of her stomach at the endearing term and the fact that he still sounds like he’s right up against her side, whispering into her ear, not far away like he should be. She makes her way through the dust and rubble, stumbling over broken pieces of the building as she shoves a few pieces of debris out of her way so she can get to the carriage, her eyes locking onto Baekhyun.

He’s seated in the driver’s seat, his grin wide, toothy, as he looks over her, his eyes flickering with worry. She stares at him, noticing the split lip and the bruise forming against his jaw. But then the carriage door behind him flies open and Sehun is flailing his arms at her, shouting at her to move faster. She feels a push against her back, like a strong gust shoving her forward, and she stumbles forward, over the rumble and into the open carriage, bumping her head against Sehun’s chin, which only makes her yelp in pain while Sehun uses his powers to slam the door shut behind them, his hand wrapped around her arm as if he’s worried she’ll disappear if he lets go. He rubs his chin and he breathes heavily, clearly exhausted from having to use his powers.

It takes Hyemi a moment, probably because she’s so utterly disoriented by everything, to realize that there’s an unfamiliar face manning the wheel of the carriage. The first thing she notices is her dark hair fading into an electric blue, shocking in its brightness, the same way Seulgi and Irene’s did. Then she notices the way her face is set in a grim line, the way her eyes are locked on the place Hyemi had just stumbled up from. The way Jongdae is leaning forward against the back of her seat, his hand curled around her neck beneath her long hair in a way that has the girl sitting back against the seat, back and head stiff. She notices it all and realizes that this blue haired girl isn’t doing this because she wants to.

The orange haired girl—Seulgi—lifts her eyes, her face smudged with dirt, and her voice is filled with disbelief, confusion, “W—Wendy?”

It isn’t loud, hell, the name shouldn’t have carried up into the carriage in the first place, let alone echo the way it did, but it does, the ever-growing silence in the carriage only amplifying that. It does and Seulgi’s eyes are filled with betrayal, the kind that makes Irene sit up on her elbows, her cold expression melting into one of hurt more than anything else as her fingers curl around Seulgi’s forearm, soothingly. Hyemi realizes that they can’t see the way Jongdae’s hand is curled at the base of Wendy’s neck, like a trigger waiting to be pulled. One wrong move, one wrong word, from Wendy, and Jongdae can easily fry her alive without batting an eye. The girl’s--Wendy’s—expressive brown eyes grow glassy, unclear, but Jongdae’s already pressing forward, voice stern and fingers flexing, “Don’t say a word.”

Wendy’s lips just press into an even thinner line than before as she pulls the carriage out of the hole in the wall, her nimble fingers working over the controls, and Hyemi wonders what exactly is making the carriage run, since it’s obviously not being pulled by anything.

Her eyes slide away from Wendy’s trembling fingers, landing on Baekhyun, who seems to be staring at her. They lock eyes over Jongdae’s elbow and Baekhyun’s eyes are blank, his jaw tense and his toothy smile gone. He seems to be examining her face, eyes lingering at her neck, and she can feel it, feel the way he seems to churn over her wounds, internalizing it somehow, and before she can stop herself, she’s leaning past Sehun and under Jongdae’s elbow, around the way Jongdae’s leaning forward, and reaches for Baekhyun’s hands with both of her own.

Baekhyun’s fingers immediately clasp onto hers and his grip is tight, all-encompassing. He seems to be trying to tell her everything, everything and anything she needs to hear right then, through his grip alone, through the softness in his eyes and the downturn of his lips, and she just nods and nods and nods and whispers, “Thank you. Thank you for coming back for me.”

It hits her all at once, the fear from earlier, of what would have happened to her and of what had possibly happened to Jongdae and Sehun and Baekhyun. It hits her all at once and her voice cracks halfway through the sentence and she’s dipping her head downwards, pitching forwards until her face is pressed against his side, until she can really smell him, the faint smell of mint and cotton and sweat and dust and Baekhyun and she’s shaking like a leaf in the wind. She doesn’t say anything, she just presses into him at an awkward angle, ignoring Jongdae and Sehun and Wendy’s presence, ignoring the fact that the passenger seat’s leather arm rest is jabbing into her sides, that she’s wedged between Jongdae’s elbow, the driver’s seat, and the passenger’s seat in an uncomfortable sort of way, and tries to subdue the panic that she had been forcefully suppressing until then. She lets him unclasp one of her hands, but she presses the other one against her chest.

Baekhyun just shushes her gently, brushing his free hand through her damp hair in a soothing sort of way, and only then does she realize that her breathing is ragged and she’s practically hyperventilating into his side. She doesn’t care, she just clutches his hand tighter and focuses on stopping the tears from falling from her eyes, his hand pressed to her cheek, and he lifts his thumb, tracing soft, tiny circles around and around and around against her cheek. Her chest hurts from breathing so hard and he hums soft I know, I knows, his grip warm, comforting.

(She doesn’t cry, she succeeds in that one small task and it’s a relief, almost, that, though the fear and panic is crippling and almost painful, she’s still strong enough to keep from spilling tears.)

There’s a hand on her back and she doesn’t know whose it is, but it adds to the comfort.

“It’s okay, baby.” Baekhyun murmurs, voice throaty, soft, and gentle, like a careful caress against her very being, a of a hand down her spine, down her jaw, that leaves her nodding along, believing in what he’s saying. His lips brush against her temple as he gently tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, though her face is still burrowed away against his side. “You’re okay.”

~.~.~.~.~

She comes to her senses pretty quickly, and when she emerges from her Baekhyun-cocoon, she’s thoroughly embarrassed at her little breakdown. But Sehun and Jongdae don’t about it, in fact, they look concerned, their eyes flickering over her face, and Hyemi wonders just how bad she looks to warrant such a lack of teasing. Though, Jongdae, she notices, seems more preoccupied with his thoughts than usual, his brow crinkled, his dark eyes fixed on Wendy, and his lips uncharacteristically downturned, while Sehun just looks exhausted, his expression grim as he stares out the carriage window.

She must look pretty damn awful though, because, at some point, Baekhyun’s manages to drag her through the little opening she had recently wedged herself in to reach out to him, Hyemi’s knee knocking into the side of the seat hard as she tumbles headfirst into his chest, nearly kicking Wendy in the side on her way through. After a long moment of adjusting, Hyemi’s curled up against him in the cramped passenger seat, her legs pressed to her chest as she presses her face against his collarbone, her fingers wrapping around the fabric of his ripped shirt, his smell and his warmth comforting. His hands clutch at her waist, cold fingers digging into her, latching onto her, like he’s afraid she’ll disappear into thin air if he lets go even once, his hands cold. She’s staring out the window, watching as Wendy maneuvers through the giant city alleyways, narrowly avoiding running people over, and Baekhyun’s lips press against the top of her head.

 “They’re going to track us down, you know.” Wendy speaks up suddenly. Hyemi lifts her head from the crook of Baekhyun’s neck, the top of her head knocking against Baekhyun’s chin lightly, making him turn his head, too. She stares at Wendy, at her trembling fingers and black-fading-into-electric-blue hair and watery eyes and Hyemi wonders if Wendy’s right. Baekhyun’s fingers press into her waist, a reassuring feeling that only makes her fingers tighten around his shirt. Wendy’s voice is soft, melodic. “I’m a traitor now and she’s escaped merchandise.” Wendy explains.

Wendy tries to sound nonchalant, like she doesn’t care at all, but there’s an undercurrent of anxiety, of sadness, lying beneath that casual tone that all of them can pick up on, no matter how much she’s trying to hide it.

Jongdae moves his hands a little, leaving it on her shoulder rather than at her neck as he leans against Wendy’s seat more comfortably, and she visibly winces, back stiffening even more than before, which Hyemi thought would be impossible. Jongdae’s eyebrows remain furrowed and his frown just deepens.

“What exactly makes you think that they’ll find us?” Jongdae asks, raising a brow at Wendy. His tone is filled with suspicion.

Wendy’s eyes narrow, her expression contorting into a brief glare before it drops away. Hyemi watches as Wendy flies them up into the sky, away from whatever city they had been imprisoned in. It’s strange, really, the way the sky is a deep, forest green and the way the lavender tinted clouds seem to disperse all around them, the colors blending together into an interesting disarray all around them as they fly up, up, up. It feels like they’re flying into a sky taken straight out of the confines of Candyland and it only intensifies the contrast of how Hyemi feels versus the world she’s currently stuck in.

But then Wendy’s words resound throughout the carriage. “We’re the best hunters on this side of the planet. Trust me when I tell you that they’re damn good at their job.”

“Is that the only reason why?” Hyemi speaks up then, her voice still hoarse. “Or can they find us another way?”

She stares at Wendy and Wendy glances sideways at her. Her gaze is steady, but there’s a look glittering beneath the hardness of her big eyes, a look of someone who isn’t as hopeful as they’re trying to make themselves out to be. Hyemi stares into Wendy’s unwavering eyes and realizes that there is no way for Wendy to know that her friends will catch up to them. There’s no way for Wendy to signal her hunter friends either.

She’s just trying to bluff her way out of this.

Jongdae presses his whole palm against the side of Wendy’s head, fingers twitching, and Wendy closes her eyes for a moment, her bottom lip trembling the slightest bit. Then Wendy quickly shakes her head, a minuscule movement that Hyemi wouldn’t have caught if she hadn’t been staring intently at Wendy the entire time. “No.” She breathes out. She sounds disappointed.

Hyemi wants to feel bad for her, but the pity doesn’t come. Especially when she thinks about exactly who the Hunters were planning on handing her over to, what the Hunters have been doing to innocent people just because they were different, what they did to them.

The pity Hyemi’s sure she would have felt for Wendy when she first arrived on this planet is totally nonexistent.

(A small part of Hyemi wonders what that says about her, but she quickly shakes away that depressing train of thought.)

Instead, Hyemi just nods, briskly, before turning her face and pressing it into the crook of Baekhyun’s neck, exhaling softly in relief at the familiar warmth of him.

“Good.” Jongdae nods too and his voice is filled with fire, setting ablaze the kind, joking tone she’s so accustomed to him using. He sounds angry, determined, a million different emotions that make her look up, locking eyes with Baekhyun, her chin resting on his chest as Baekhyun glances sideways, no doubt at Jongdae. “You’ll have no problem taking us to Yixing, then, will you?”

That’s when Hyemi’s head snaps to the side, her eyes wide as she takes in Jongdae’s deep scowl and heavy gaze, and Wendy’s expression only grows grimmer.

“Yixing?” Sehun’s voice echoes in the tense silence growing in the carriage, voicing Hyemi’s own confusion.

Jongdae’s still boring holes into the back of Wendy’s head with his eyes alone, though Hyemi’s pretty sure he’s using every last bit of restraint to keep himself from actually burning holes into the back of her head with his fingers.

“I told you. We’ve already…He’s been moved since he’s been so…uncooperative. I don’t know—”

“And I’ve told you.” Jongdae mocks her tone while Wendy glares at the lavender tinted green sky in response, pressing her lips together tightly. “I don’t give a flying about what you’ve already told me. I don’t believe you either.”

That’s when Wendy turns in her seat, jerking sideways to face Jongdae head on, despite the fact that Jongdae’s fingers are now pressed to Wendy’s forehead rather than the side of her head, her hair catching in his fingers. The carriage jerks upwards, then dips downwards, and Hyemi claws at Baekhyun’s shirt, panicking slightly. Jongdae doesn’t even seem fazed, his gaze pinned on Wendy, even as Sehun mutters a bunch of curse words before waving his arms, steadying the carriage in place, no doubt with his powers (though he looks exhausted, sweat already pooling along his forehead in tiny glittering beads, and Hyemi’s afraid he won’t have long before he runs out of power).

“We send the uncooperative, unsellable ones to…we send them elsewhere.” Wendy stumbles over her words before she looks Jongdae dead in the eye. Her voice grows steady then, annoyed. “You already have my team tracking you all down as we speak. You really want those Hunters on your asses, too?” Her tone is edged with frustration and anger and fear, fear that she’s not able to hide at all. “Not to mention the highest bidders are probably incredibly pissed off about her.”

“Yeonma.” Hyemi blurts out, Wendy’s words reminding her of said highest bidder.

Baekhyun blinks, glancing away from the stare down Jongdae and Wendy are currently taking part in and Sehun glaring accusingly at both of them as he keeps the carriage from veering off in to the ground, sweat beading along his forehead as seconds pass. “What?”

“That was the name of the highest bidder.” Hyemi tells him, slowly, a shiver running down her spine. Baekhyun grits his teeth, circling an arm around her waist as cold fingers push her damp, stringy hair out of her face, the lavender tinted sky beyond the carriage darkening into deep purple for just a moment before it returns to lavender.

“But why?” Sehun looks beyond confused when he speaks, thick brows knitting together, and Hyemi just shrugs because she wants to know the same thing.

But then Wendy gives Jongdae a pointed look, her voice loud, “Clearly, this Yeonma guy’s not a good person either. I wouldn’t be surprised if he came after her himself. And then there are those creepy shadow spider things who were up on the bidding list. They’ve never participated in an auction before, which definitely means they’re specifically looking for you, too, huh? Do you really think it’s a good idea to have so many hostile groups hounding your asses at the same time? Especially when you’re supposedly on some kind of Royal Mission to save the planet?”

“Why the hell do you care?” Jongdae frowns this time, eyeing Wendy like he’s trying to read her mind.

“Because, apparently, I am stuck with you all.” Wendy sneers and Hyemi hears the fear ringing true and clear, echoing in the silence that follows her words.

“We all know you’ll just escape the minute we go into Hunter territory again. They won’t kill a fellow hunter.” Sehun speaks this time, rolling his eyes, his neck glinting with sweat.

Wendy stares at Sehun for a long moment before she laughs, humorlessly. “The minute I set foot in their territory they’ll have my head for betraying my team and bringing you all there in the first place. These hunters are…” Her voice gets tiny, quiet, incredibly contained, hauntingly so, yet it still echoes in the carriage, “They’ll kill us all.”

~.~.~.~.~

“We need him.” Hyemi murmurs, when the silence stretches on for too long, when Jongdae’s expression grows twisted and Hyemi can’t stand the pain in his eyes, the way the perpetual twinkle in his eyes dim. “We need Yixing. He’s one of the twelve. He’s…he’s…”

She trails off, glancing sideways at Jongdae, at his blank sort of expression.

She can’t stand it at all, the look in his eyes.

So she sits up straight, ignoring the way Baekhyun’s fingers press into her sides, and she looks Wendy dead in the eye. “We need him so you’re going to take us to him, do you understand?”

“What will you do if I refuse?” Wendy asks, point-blank, the carriage still hovering above the lavender clouds, floating in place as if Wendy’s put the carriage in park (and Sehun doesn’t have to hold it up anymore, much to his relief), which Hyemi finds fleetingly amusing because it’s so normal, if she ignores the parked in the sky part.

It’s so, so quiet and Hyemi feels annoyance rushing through her veins, because not only is Yixing in clear trouble, judging from what Wendy had been alluding to earlier, but Hyemi’s also tired and sore and she’s annoyed. Irritation bubbles up in the pit of her stomach, irritation and an itching feeling under her skin, the kind that makes her want to somehow make Wendy listen to her, rather than deal with arguing and convincing her, and she scowls at Wendy, “You won’t refuse. Not if you know what’s good for you.”

Baekhyun’s fingers tighten at her waist and Jongdae’s eyes flicker between Hyemi and Wendy, who doesn’t even seem to flinch at the threat, let alone look intimidated in any way. That only succeeds in annoying Hyemi more.

“You know.” Wendy stares at her, eyes steely, “I’ve always had doubts about your kind. I’ve always thought that hey maybe they’re not as horrible and selfish and awful as everyone makes them out to be, but I can see it. I get it now. I can see exactly what they were talking about.” Wendy crosses her arms then, leaning back against the seat as she holds Hyemi’s gaze, eyes steely. “Kill me, then. Because I’m not taking you there in order to die for a cause I give zero s about.”

Hyemi locks her jaw, her blood boiling as she frowns at Wendy. “Hye—” Baekhyun starts.

(The anger that courses through Hyemi surprises her because it’s more intense, more forceful, of a feeling than anything Hyemi’s felt before. It startles Hyemi so much, she takes a moment to talk herself down, because Hyemi’s never felt this before.)

So she forces herself to take a deep breath, the itching under her skin morphing into a dull ache as she blinks rapidly, trying to push away the red she sees.

“Listen.” Hyemi speaks quietly, interrupting Baekhyun. “All you have to do is get us there. Then you can leave.” Jongdae makes a noise of protest but Hyemi continues speaking, “You can go wherever you want. You’re not much use to us after that, so really I couldn’t care less where you go or what you do after that. Just take us to Yixing and we’ll do the rest.”

(A small part of Hyemi feels dissatisfied with her own words of compromise and that’s most confusing of all.)

Wendy scrutinizes Hyemi’s expression, frown deep and eyes filled with disbelief and mistrust. Hyemi sighs and pushes the stubbornness, the side of her that wants to punch this girl in the face wrap her fingers around to make her and not compromise in anyway, down as far as it will go because Hyemi’s not usually the type to be this violent in her thought processes.

So Hyemi lowers her voice and unclenches her jaw, flattens her fists out in her lap as discretely as possible, “We both know you just want to go home, just like we do. So…please help us with this one thing. Then you can go.”

Then Wendy closes her eyes, muttering something under her breath in a language Hyemi doesn’t understand, before she opens her eyes and says, “Fine.” Hyemi’s eyes widen and Wendy sighs, “But it’s not easy getting in there and they’ll know it was me who got you in.”

There’s a long moment of silence, while Wendy glances between the four of them, her eyes careful, calculated. Finally, she breaks the silence, “If you promise to protect me from the Hunters we need to get through, then I’ll do it.”

“Okay.” Jongdae answers for Hyemi, nodding quickly.

She doesn’t really look at Baekhyun or Hyemi or even Sehun. Her eyes are on Jongdae and only Jongdae as she nods, her eyes filling with pity for just a moment.

Then Jongdae nods and Wendy grabs the wheel of the carriage and jerks it upwards before dropping into a turn in one smooth, fluid movement, the clouds zipping by.

~.~.~.~.~

“I’ll go with you.” Jongdae speaks up, when they’re all standing in a field of flowers, each flower a deep, scarlet red that’s startlingly alive in a world where Hyemi hasn’t seen such a thing in its wildlife in a long, long while. “You’re going into the city, right? I’m going with you.”

Jongdae repeats himself, more sternly the second time around, and Hyemi glances over their shoulders, past the thick, grey trees obscuring the city from view. It’s not quite a city, more of a little town, and she feels a strange sort of aura radiating from it, though she isn’t anywhere near it. She shivers slightly and Baekhyun’s fingers trail down her arm until he finds her fingers.

His hands are colder than she’d like, cold enough to make the shivers last rather than disappear, so her grip on his hand tightens, trying in vain to warm both their hands up.

Wendy frowns, her big eyes narrowing ever so slightly, and Hyemi can’t help but find it suspicious.

But Wendy nods anyway and swivels on her heels, stepping out of the clearing, away from the deep scarlet flowers. Hyemi watches her walk away, only locking eyes with Jongdae when he pauses to glance back at them.

“Be careful.” Sehun says, his voice soft but loud enough for Jongdae to hear. Sehun’s face, Hyemi realizes, is filled with the same kind of look Suho had given Baekhyun before they had left for this mission, the same kind of look Suho had watched Sehun and Baekhyun go with when he thought no one was looking. Worry. Concern.

Jongdae nods, the edges of his smile curling up in that familiar way of his. “I’ll be back in an hour, okay?” His eyes are filled with promise when he looks at Sehun. Then his gaze drifts over to Baekhyun before meeting Hyemi’s. Hyemi can see the worry in them, the suspicion in regards to Wendy, but he seems to be waiting for a gesture from her. So she nods, her eyes filling with warning as she subtly glances at Wendy, and he nods just as subtly, finally turning away, following after Wendy, who had paused at the very edge of the clearing, blankly watching their exchanges.

Only later does Hyemi realize that Jongdae was looking for, what she can only describe as, permission from her and it’s the strangest observation she’s ever made.

~.~.~.~.~

“You look like hell.” Sehun says, his voice careless but his eyes filled with nothing but concern as he pulls out medical supplies from his pouch and leans down to look at her. She’s currently curled up in the passenger seat of the carriage, her eyes drifting past Sehun to where Baekhyun’s sitting in the field of flowers, the flowers brushing mid-calf, a startling contrast against his dark clothes. She can’t help but stare at the way Baekhyun’s elbows are hooked around his knees, that he has drawn up to his chest, his hair falling into his eyes, the same eyes that seem to be staring off in the direction of the city unseeingly. She thinks, in that very moment, crouched in a field of blood red flowers, with a pale face and a split lip (that Sehun had slathered some special green ointment all over, thankfully), he looks like some sort of fallen angel, though she doesn’t understand his behavior. At first, he had kept his gaze locked on hers, a dark sort of look manifesting in them that had butterflies tumbling at the very pit of her stomach. But then. But then she had watched him respond to something Sehun had said before he had distractedly broken their eye contact. And now she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t understand the distance in his eyes, the distance that hadn’t been there earlier when he had looked at her, or held her hand, or even played with her hair and held her close right after Jongdae and Wendy had gone into the city. In barely half an hour, his behavior had changed entirely and she isn’t quite sure why.

For a moment, she thinks Baekhyun looks like he doesn’t exactly belong there, like he’s just a flickering image of the Baekhyun she once knew. Like he’s fading. She blinks rapidly because, for a short moment, there is a wrongness to him that makes the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end.

“He looks so pale, doesn’t he?” Hyemi murmurs, her left cheek pressed against the seat of the carriage as she presses her knees further against her chest, frowning slightly. The wrongness feels itchy, stinging all over.

Sehun blinks, surprised by her words. Hyemi watches as Sehun glances back at Baekhyun before turning back to face Hyemi, his eyebrows screwing up in confusion, “I just told you that you looked like absolute and you’re worried about him?”

Hyemi narrows her eyes at Sehun, “You said hell, not absolute .”

“Well, you look terrible. Like. Really bad.”

“Sehun.”

“What?”

“I get it. Shut up.”

Sehun just laughs, giggles really, and she can’t help but smile in response. She sits up, letting Sehun tend to her wrists and the cut at her neck, swallowing the pills he hands her almost immediately. Sehun blocks her view of Baekhyun so she just watches the way he spreads an unknown green ointment along the raw skin of her wrists, his touch so light she barely even feels it.

“You’re good at this.” She says, in awe.

“Of course I am. You shouldn’t sound so surprised.” Sehun retorts, glaring at her until she smiles. There’s another long pause before Sehun speaks again. “Yixing taught me basic medical skills while we were on Earth. Before we ran into you, there was a lot of downtime.” Sehun gives her a look of distaste, “You were really difficult to find, you know that?”

Hyemi frowns, mulling over his words, “I’ve lived in the same place all my life before moving to university. Which was only a couple towns over. Why would it be difficult to find me when Baek was with you guys?”

Despite the blank look clouding his expression, there’s a quiet reverence in his voice that she’s never really heard from him before. It reminds her of her vision when she was Jongin and he was calling out for Baekhyun. It feels different somehow. “Time is a different concept here than it is back on your planet. Baek was gone for a long, long time, longer than you think. I’m surprised he even remembered what you looked like.” Sehun pauses, his long fingers dabbing the pungent yellow ointment along her neck, her skin stinging slightly. He starts speaking then, his voice quiet, “You should have seen him before we set out on our mission to find you. He disappeared for months and Jongin had to go find him.”

“Why?” Hyemi frowns, pursing her lips.

Sehun’s smile twitches downwards for a moment, his eyes clouding with an emotion Hyemi can’t quite pinpoint. Hyemi frowns when Sehun doesn’t answer for a good minute, almost lost in his thoughts, until Sehun finally blinks, rapidly, like he’s pulling himself out of his thoughts. Then Sehun speaks, his tone thoughtful, “Honestly, I’m not entirely sure.”

“About what?”

Both Hyemi and Sehun jump in place, Sehun knocking his head against the top of the carriage door and yelping in pain while Hyemi practically kicks him in the stomach.

Baekhyun blinks at both of them, his brows furrowed together cutely, though his face is even paler up close, especially in contrast to the white ointment slathered over the wound on his lip.

“What the hell.” Sehun mumbles, rubbing his head and his stomach as he glares between Baekhyun and Hyemi.

Baekhyun smiles, a small thing that’s nothing compared to his usual large, rectangular grins, and proceeds to reach out and pat Sehun’s head like he’s a small dog. “Sorry.”

Sehun just pouts, babyishly, and Hyemi can’t help but smile, especially because that distance in Baekhyun’s eyes she had observed earlier had pretty much disappeared. Baekhyun turns his smile on her, a beautiful little thing that only succeeds on making her feel warm, happy somehow, and—

Pop.

Sehun shrieks yet again in surprise and Hyemi nearly screams as well, because Sehun’s on the ground and there’s someone sprawled out on top of him, their limbs entangled and a stream of curses flitting between them, though Hyemi’s sure it’s all coming from Sehun mostly.

Because Jongin’s currently sprawled out on top of a grumbling Sehun, reminding her of the time he did this to Chanyeol too, and she wonders if Jongin does this on purpose. Jongin pats Sehun’s cheek, murmuring his thanks, and Sehun promptly raises a gust of wind, so strong that Hyemi’s eyes water because of the dust that gets into her eyes, her hair whipping against her cheeks and into her open mouth. Jongin gets thrown off of Sehun and he should have slammed back-first into one of the trees across the clearing, but there’s a soft pop and he disappears, only to reappear on the carriage’s roof, his feet dangling off the edge right where Hyemi’s face had been before Sehun’s wind gust, a minute ago.

“Wow.” Jongin mumbles, shaking his head, “So mean.”

Sehun just glares, snapping his fingers once in order to blow the dirt off his body and another time to fix his messy hair. “What are you doing here?” Sehun grumbles, sounding beyond irritated.

Jongin swings his feet, nearly back-heeling Hyemi in the face in the process, “I missed you.” He coos and a second later he doubles into laughter, apparently unable to keep a straight face at his statement for longer than a second. Hyemi shoves at his foot because he’s really going to break her nose at this rate and suddenly Jongin’s hopping off the carriage, landing gracefully beside Sehun, who only wrinkles his nose at Jongin, while Jongin grins. Hyemi watches Jongin lithely lean around Sehun and knock his fist lightly against Baekhyun’s shoulder, earning himself a huge beautiful grin and a hair ruffle from Baekhyun.

And then Jongin turns to her and she’s a tiny bit nervous. There's playfulness there, but there's also a guarded look Hyemi thinks he'll never really drop around her, thanks to her mother's actions and their effect on him and his life.

Jongin narrows his eyes at her, but continues smiling. There’s a gauntness to his face now, his glowing skin duller than she remembers, the bags under his eyes only emphasized by the sallowness, as if he hasn’t seen sun for days. It makes her worried, despite everything.

She thinks she sees worry hidden deep in his eyes, too, despite everything.

“You look like hell.” He states, mirroring Sehun’s earlier words.

She glares, the concern she had been feeling earlier instantly fading away to the background, “So do you.” She points out.

Jongin laughs, a bit too amused, and both Baekhyun and Sehun eye him strangely.

Hyemi doesn’t get, at least not until Baekhyun speaks up, tone filled with judgment, “Okay, how sleep deprived are you right now?”

“On a scale of one to ten?” Jongin asks, blinking owlishly.

“Yeah.”

“Hm. Fifteen. Maybe eighteen and a half.”

“For ’s sakes, Jongin.” Baekhyun groans.

Jongin makes a face at both Baekhyun and Sehun, but just before he opens his mouth to make a snarky retort, Hyemi interrupts, her eyes flickering over Jongin’s attire, over the glinting silver armor he’s wearing, “You never answered Sehun’s question properly.”

Jongin’s gaze snaps back over to meet hers and his eyes flash.

Hyemi can feel the shift in the atmosphere. She can sense the playfulness, the jittery sleepless energy in Jongin, disappearing almost immediately, even as he nods, dipping his head down, before he stares at her. For a moment, she swears there’s something accusing hidden in his eyes. “You’re right. I didn’t.” Jongin sighs before he speaks, voice steady and blunt, “They’re moving. The wall has fallen and Yeonma's army is coming in fast. It’s started.”

Hyemi’s heart drops to her stomach in horror as Jongin murmurs the war has started, his voice carrying in the silence between them, a suffocating blanket of tension reminiscent of the calm before the storm.

a/n: I accidentally wrote "snarky retorty" instead of retort and I can't stop laughing ohhhh my god

anyways I'm an awful person it's been MONTHS are yall even here jesus christ. personal problems came up and made it really hard to write (my creativity DIED for a straight month and it was the worst thing ever lol). but thank you thank you thank you to everyone who's subscribed/upvoted/commented/read this in any way shape or form you're the best <3 I missed you guys and writing a lot

also lotto baekhyun ruined my life ohhh my god don't even get me started (actually pls do)

xoxo