Fast…

Faster…

FASTER…

The pungent smell of his own sweat mingles with the varied scents of the market - the sickly sweet of half-rotten fruit, the earthiness of slightly stale, half-burnt (but still edible) bread, the cloying spiciness of something illegal and not spoken aloud. Usually that combination is familiar - smells of what he calls home - but now it’s suffocating…

Where did they come from? Why are they here? The guards usually don’t come here this time of day. We weren’t bothering them. It was just a loaf of bread for Christmas dinner. I’ll put it back…...I promise….

GET OUT OF THE WAY!

Garbage cans clatter as they are pushed behind him and in front of his pursuers, the metallic sound a harsh cacophony that breaks through the furtive hush-hush of the market. It - and the swearing that erupts in response - echoes in his ears, louder than the erratic thudding of the heart that threatens to burst out of his chest at any moment.

Where’s hyung? He was just here, right behind me. Hyung?

Lungs burning, muscles aching as he tries to keep ahead, eyes jaded by years of living from hand to mouth desperately seeking out a familiar dimpled smile, an encouraging glance...

Breathe, Sehunnie, breathe. Good air in, bad air out. Now again….Again…

A familiar cry makes his heart jump up into his throat and he whips around so quickly that for a moment his vision blurs and he nearly passes out. His eyes focus - just in time to see the hand that grabbed his friend pull Zhang Yixing closer, the larger guard all sneering lips and leering eyes as he sizes up his captive’s slim, half-starved form, the older boy’s body heaving as he tries to take in gulps of precious air.

Yixing-hyung?

“Run, Sehunnie!” He hears the words and the choked desperation behind them - both he and Yixing have heard rumors of what happens to those who are taken, like his friend Tao - yet his feet refuse to move. Even when he hears a second pair of footsteps approaching he doesn’t leave his position. He can’t abandon Yixing…

Yixing, the stranger with an accent like warm molasses, his words sometimes difficult to understand even if the intention wasn’t. The stranger who took him in when his parents died from one of many plagues that periodically ravage an Undercity filled with too many people in too crowded conditions, clean running water scarce and soap a luxury no one can afford. The stranger who would tell him tales of the holidays celebrated generations past, with myths of Christmas trees, a fat bearded man dressed up in red who passed out gifts without anything expected in return, and a star that drew kings and beggars alike to some little kid’s crib. There were no stars anymore, the skies clouded with smoke from the chimneys and dust from the arid lands around them. Yet still Yixing shared the tales of that bright star seen by all. Yixing shared everything with him, from hard earned - or stolen - meals to dreams and aspirations about a future he wasn’t sure existed. Come, Sehunnie… he remembers the other saying. We’re family now and family sticks together.

He can’t leave the only family he has, blood or not.

The guard’s hand grabs for his arm and that’s what finally makes him move, his hand clenching into a fist and slamming against the other man’s jaw, his own set with determination and purpose. The acrid tang of blood joins the other smells that surround them as the man’s nose blooms red.

“Feisty,” the guard growls as he tries to punch at the man holding Yixing - maybe he could distract him enough for his hyung to get away.

Just as he reaches the guard - and as he hears Yixing’s warning cry he feels a white-hot lancet of pain on the right side of his head, darkness rushing towards him as he stumbles back.

“They don’t like feisty…but we’ll have no problem beating that out of you.”

It’s the last thing he hears.


11:15 pm.

“Going once, going twice…...SOLD to Master Yunho for 300,000 credits.”

Luhan’s eyes glazed over and he sipped his chilled glass of spiced vino while the Undercity dweller up for auction was dragged away, another kid up on the block screaming for his ‘Chunnie’ or something that sounded ridiculously similar in a high, strangely sweet voice. Kid better keep quiet or someone will find a use for that voice, he thought to himself. Something not so nice. Kid looks too innocent to be from Undercity and way too innocent for here. Not my problem though. That will change soon. Always does.

Auctions were always so tedious, the audience speculating idly on the quality of the goods although everyone knew where they came from - dirty Undercity street rats caught by the Guard, usually underfed and overworked and zigged when they should have zagged. Most of them were caught near the Black Market - you’d think they would have learned by now. He supposed that desperate times called for desperate measures and all that other trite bull. The Black Market was where you found the goods you needed to survive down there - and where the Traders found their human goods. No one ever said those from Undercity were smart though. Of course, one could say the audience here was just as predictable as those being sold - greedy members of the Elite class trying to one-up each other with their newest acquisitions. Same old, same old and Luhan wondered why he even bothered coming. Of course he did know - it was all about social status and expectation. They were Elite and Elites owned slaves. The more slaves the better… Even the tinsel and twinkling lights, an homage to a long dead holiday only the lower classes celebrated, didn’t seem to change the atmosphere for Luhan. Sparkle couldn’t hide the lack of hope he felt around him.

“Boring…”

Casting a sideways glance at Jongdae, Luhan could tell that his oldest friend was just as impressed as he was, if the rolling of his eyes, slight smirk, and lazy drawl were any indication. Both he and Jongdae were unusual in that neither of them personally owned a slave. Sure, their families did - Jongdae’s brother had a stable of them and Luhan’s father was well known for his dancing girls and boys. Jongdae at least had an excuse, being the eccentric scientist that he was, too busy with his research to deal with training a slave properly. Luhan’s other friends usually humored him, considering it just a little personality quirk he would grow out of in time. He also knew there was talk about the fact that he hadn’t made a single purchase at the Auctions, the whispers and murmurings growing louder and less subtle with each birthday that passed after he grew of age. His father had a reputation to uphold after all, being the figurehead for the leading political party in the City. Like father, like son, right?

Frankly Luhan didn’t care - something had always sat wrong with him about owning another person. Of course, his fellow Elites would tell him that those from Undercity weren’t really human after all but something about that sat wrong with him. It wasn’t as if there was something genetic that made them different - even Jongdae agreed (although sometimes Luhan wondered if his friend was just humoring him as well).

It was obvious that his father had been talking with his friends again - or at least with his friends’ parents or older siblings - because they were starting to lean on him a bit more lately. Wufan paraded his newest favorite at the party the other night, Kai’s exotic features and leonine movements tempting. There was certainly no doubt what happened between the two when everyone left, if the way the slave pressed his lean frame against the blond was any indication. Junmyeon’s little pet was just the opposite of Wufan’s, tiny and pale and doe-eyed, his voice deceptively deep but sweet at the same time. Junmyeon praised Kyungsoo’s cooking skills, the boy blushing at his Master’s words.

And so his friends tried, in ways both subtle and not-so-much (in fact, sometimes Luhan thought a sledgehammer would be more subtle). However, it really didn’t matter after all - he wasn’t getting a slave and that was that. Every time he looked into a slave’s eyes he saw something dim and diminished - like a star without its shine. No hope.

11:30 pm

Luhan was distracted from his train of thought by the sound of a quick intake of breath beside him. Looking over, he was surprised to see Jongdae - snarky, cynical, these-things-are-boring-and-illogical Kim Jongdae - leaning forward in his seat, fingers gripping the front of his sleek trousers almost painfully.

“I want him.”

Luhan’s eyes followed the direction of his friend’s line of sight, gaze coming upon a frail looking boy who had been dragged to the block during his moment of self-reflection. Shaggy chestnut hair badly in need of a cut partially shielded his eyes from view but his dimples were prominent - even in his half-starved face. The boy - well, man really since Undercity often aged you before your time - was pretty but Luhan didn’t see what had captivated his best friend so strongly. ‘Dimples’, which seemed as good a name as any for the kid, looked around as if lost and Luhan thought he heard him murmuring a name over and over again.

It sounded like “Sehun”…

Before Luhan had a chance to contemplate the word further the gavel struck and Jongdae surged forward, cool scientific demeanor disappearing underneath an eagerness Luhan had never seen in his friend before. It was as if this dimpled street rat was something Jongdae had been looking for forever, but that was impossible. He turned to ask his friend why but Jongdae was gone…

“Huh, what was that about?” came a familiar voice as Byun Baekhyun threw himself down in the chair beside Luhan, his slave respectfully standing beside him. “Looks like Chenchen’s finally seen the light - either that or hit puberty,” he added with a grin, using the nickname Jongdae had earned (and hated) when they were young. There were times when Luhan really didn’t like Baekhyun - he was too smarmy, too sly, too Baekhyun. “His pick is pretty if you like the type.” An eager gleam caught the other’s eye and for a moment Luhan felt worry creeping up on him. “What I wanted to tell you about was the next one up. I checked him out and he’d be perfect for you, Lulu...legs a mile long. Fun to climb I bet. Gorgeous too - little blank in the face sometimes and they did rough him up a bit but young and trainable. Oh, and that …” Baekhyun whistled low and leered. “Kid’s got a wiggle to his walk, if you know what I mean.” He reached out and made a grabbing gesture with both hands. “If I didn’t have Taozi here I’d scoop the cutie up in a second….”

Luhan looked up at Baekhyun’s slave curiously, only to meet eyes that for a moment weren’t quite as muted as those of other slaves. There was a spark, a flash of brief anger that rose when his Master reached back to shamelessly fondle him. Luhan was almost convinced it was a cry for help but then it was gone, those dark eyes once again placid as Baekhyun rambled on about the next slave up for bidding.

Maybe he had just been imagining things. Luhan shook his head and turned as the bell announced the next sale - the one Baekhyun had been so eager for him to see.

It would be just another slave, just like the rest.

11:45 pm

He wakens to fingers carding gently through his hair, a sweet voice stumbling over words not native to his tongue but soothing nonetheless. He opens his eyes to darkness and it takes several minutes for them to focus once more. When they do relief floods through him as he looks up into Yixing’s relieved face. “Hey, hyung….that was some dream, wasn’t it?”

Yixing’s smile fades and the older boy shakes his head. “No dream, Sehunnie. You should have run when you had the chance.”

He sits up with assistance from his hyung, wincing as he reaches up to feel the tender spot at his right temple. The smells around him are different from those of Undercity - there is something sterile beneath the heavy scent of thick perfumes, something empty. The room isn’t as dark as he had thought it was but the lights are muted, not from the need to conserve energy but for atmosphere. They aren’t in some dungeon but the guard at the door gives no doubt that they are captive. He notices that they’ve been washed and dressed in simple but well made garments, their own threadbare clothing likely incinerated at the first chance. A quick glance at Yixing and his hyung’s blush tells him all he needs to know - they had ‘help’ getting clean.

“It will be okay,” Yixing reassures him but it seems as if he is using the words to try to guarantee something that is impossible. Nothing will ever be okay again…

His unspoken thought is confirmed when the door opens and another guard enters, this one the same leering man who had grabbed Yixing in the first place. “Your turn, pretty…” he says with a smirk and pulls his hyung to his feet. Yixing reaches for him desperately but the other guard pulls them apart. “Not your turn yet, kid.”

“Don’t fight, Sehunnie...it will be okay…” his hyung’s voice echoes in his ears as he is taken away. Even when some Elite comes to look at him, muttering something about how Lulu will love him the words are lost beneath Yixing’s reassurances. He doesn’t care who the man is - or who this Lulu is, either.

He’s just some Elite, just like the rest.

12:00

Luhan stood up and pushed back his chair as the clock struck midnight, draining his glass of vino in one draught. He nodded his goodbye to Baekhyun, ignoring the other’s protest. There was really no reason to stay. He’d have to talk with Jongdae later and find out what the other was thinking. To take a slave after they’d both agreed not to…it made no sense.

“And for our final Auction of the evening,” the Auctioneer’s booming voice called out as Luhan was halfway to the door. In spite of his better judgement he found himself turning towards the stage, expecting to see just another starving Undercity dweller unfortunate or stupid enough to get caught -

And froze.

The boy was skinny, there was no doubt about that, his hair in dire need of a good cutting. Tall, unfairly so. It looked like the guards hadn’t been too kind to him either, Luhan wincing in sympathy at the purpling bruise on the boy’s right temple. But none of these things drew Luhan to the boy - he’d seen all ages of slaves, slaves who had suffered beatings harsher than this kid…

But the moment the boy looked up, his eyes meeting Luhan’s jaded ones and Luhan wondered if this was what Jongdae had seen when he had first laid eyes upon the dimpled boy. The slave’s eyes were bright in the artificial light of the room - they shone like stars.

Luhan’s teachers had once told him about stars, the tiny pinpoints of nebulous gasses millions of miles away. Jongdae said there was nothing romantic about them but Luhan had read stories, heard the tales of a star leading ships home. A star that gave people hope.

In those eyes Luhan saw hope - a hope he never knew he had or had given up on. A hope to rise above rules and regulations, Elites and Undercity. A hope for something new.

“A million credits.”