black and blue (and in love with you). (1/5)
black and blue (and in love with you).
sehun/tao, kai/sehun, side!kris/suho - r - romance, action/adventure, angst - child abuse, violence, sexual scenes, [minor & major character death] - 31682 words
Delirium!AU. in a world where fear rules over all, will there ever be any space for love?
disclaimer: the “Delirium” series is not mine; it is the property of Lauren Oliver and HarperCollins Publications. The universe is all theirs, but this story is mine.
The world is drowned in fear.
It is drowned in fear and indifference and the emptiness of the lack of love.
Love was declared a disease a century ago, and the government found the cure that they needed to fully realize their goals and eradicate the world of the disease that is Amor Deliria Nervosa. Anyone who is uncured is thought of to be a shaky variable, someone that could prove to be a liability to society in a matter of seconds.
But not all people want the safety from this “disease,” as the government called it. Others wanted the love inside them to destroy and rot their bodies from the inside out, like what the government said it would do. Others wanted the deliria, and they were out casted from society, kept locked up in prisons and detained in loneliness for the rest of their lives where they would starve and claw their way out just because of the love that they fought for.
Then there were the rumored Invalids, the ones that ran away completely from the safe and sheltered Cities. They lived in the Wilds, making the most out of their measly lives without any steady supply of food or a permanent shelter. The government told their people that these Invalids didn’t exist at all, but some people knew the truth that they were all out there, free to reign in their own land and love who they want to love.
The world is drowned in fear.
Wars are not started because of love. They are stopped before they can even start because of fear.
Sehun is shaking. It’s only natural; everyone gets a little nervous before their Evaluation. The shaking is much worse on others though, and Sehun is a little comforted by the fact that he didn’t go into this evaluation day on his own.
Baekhyun looks calm and ready beside him. But he knows his good friend and neighbor since he was born; he’s nervous too. Sehun smiles at him and Baekhyun chuckles. It’s a silent “we’ll be okay.” They’ll be fine.
“Byun Baekhyun,” the woman waiting outside the door says. The boy being called stands up abruptly, poised and serious. It’s the façade they have to put up: poised and perfect and ready to be paired with a good person.
Now Sehun feels the fear echoing inside his hollow mind, waiting for him to crack. He’s afraid of letting too much of himself talk, of showing that he might possibly have the deliria inside him. It’s not that he does; it’s just that the evaluators see a possibility as the disease itself. He must learn to control himself, to seem like a perfect citizen who will be everything that society wants him to be.
Another door opens. “Oh Sehun.”
Sehun puts on his mask of indifference, something his father taught him well. Hit after hit, with every single strike of the belt against his pale skin, his father taught him how to be indifferent and silent and to feel nothing but empty. He will do well in this evaluation.
Sehun strips off his clothes and stands underneath the glaring light, the only light in the entire room. In front of him, he thinks he can see the faces of his evaluators across the glass, but Sehun knows that he’s probably a clear picture to them. He knows that they can see everything about him: the abuse, the loneliness, the silence. But it’s okay. They have to know.
Sehun’s favorite color is blue because his room’s walls are painted blue. Sehun likes to dance because he’s been taking ballet and jazz ever since he was seven. Sehun’s favorite subject is math because he excels at it in school.
These are questions that have been drilled into his mind. Sehun knows the Oh Sehun that they want to see. Sehun is going to give him the Oh Sehun that they want.
When Sehun is fully dressed and ready to go home, he sees Baekhyun waiting for him outside the building. He’s relieved to see the familiar smile on Baekhyun’s face. Sometimes all he needs is familiarity to bring him back down to earth.
“The evaluation is sickening, isn’t it?” Baekhyun mutters. Sehun sighs; he doesn’t really want to relive the awkwardness he felt while he was being observed like an animal with a glass between them, as if he was a danger to them all, like he was being separated from them because they were afraid of catching something he didn’t even have.
“I hate it. I wish we didn’t have to do it.” Baekhyun looks nervous, even more nervous than how he seemed before the evaluation. Sehun stops him in his place, holding his wrist lightly. The touch is strange, and even if they’ve been best friends for years, physical contact has always been weird for everyone.
“Baekhyun,” says Sehun. His voice is gentle, cautious even. Baekhyun’s expression is blank, but Sehun knows him a little better than most people. Something isn’t right.
“What?” The mischievous smile on Baekhyun’s face is back. Sehun’s eyes briefly flit over to a dark corner on the street. He thinks he sees a shadow there, a glimpse of a volunteer patrol or a regulator prowling in the darkness. He shivers, letting go of Baekhyun’s hand instantly.
Baekhyun knows what that shiver means. He’s well aware of the feeling that someone’s always watching him, and he’s had enough of that at home.
They walk side by side, silently heading home.
They’re right about their suspicion. There really is someone watching them, someone lurking in the shadows waiting for someone to mess up and reveal even just a sliver of the deliria. Everyone’s used to it; fear has always had a permanent grip on everyone’s necks.
The ticking of the clock drives him crazy. The evening news is turned on at exactly five thirty PM; they start placing the plates on the table ten minutes after; his father arrives at home from work when the clock strikes six. This has been Sehun’s life ever since he was a little kid.
It’s Tuesday, so Sehun has to wash the dishes alone. His mother adjusts the clothes he’s grown out of, and his father reads the paper even if he’s heard the evening news and tuned into the radio at work. After doing the dishes, he has to do his homework and go to sleep.
Sehun briefly thinks of going out for a run or riding his bike along the river like how he always does when he’s bored. The ticking of the clock reminds him of curfew, which is in two hours. He decides that it’s enough time to go out and bike around the neighborhood.
“Where are you going?” his father asks. Sehun’s hands still on the doorknob. He turns to face his father, and he’s relieved to see that there’s no anger in his eyes. He’s just reading the newspaper, probably busy on the finance section since he works at an accounting company.
“I’m just bringing my bike out. I’ll be back before curfew.” His father nods absently and Sehun walks out as fast as he can.
Sehun times his watch to an hour and a half and he pushes forward, riding as quickly as he can to the river nearby. He usually has Baekhyun to ride with him, but nowadays the older male is a little busy with school and his parents pushing him to do better even if he’s already doing everything right.
Sehun has a connection with the wind. He enjoys how it hits him while he’s running or riding his bike. He thinks of how it reminds him of flying, of those little dreams he had back then. Sehun was a little kid before, and now he’s a growing man. It’s scary to think of all the time that passed since then.
Back then was so long ago, he thinks to himself. Now he’s at the area beside the river, cement and tiles slowing down his run. He marvels at the clean water, the smell that clears his mind.
He’s surprised when there’s figure in front of him. Sehun steers the bike out of the way and accidentally collides against a lamp post. He falls off his seat, knee skidding against the pavement.
Sehun winces in pain, pulling his scratched knee against his chest. The stranger rushes to his side and pushes away the bike pinning his foot down.
“Are you okay?” the stranger asks. He seems like he’s near Sehun’s age, and Sehun blushes when he realizes how close they are. He can feel the warmth of the stranger’s skin seeping into his.
“I’m fine,” mutters Sehun. He holds onto the lamp post to stand up, grimacing at the feeling of dust and grime on his fingers. He rubs it on his pants, suddenly remembering that his mom’s going to be mad when she sees the dirt all over his clothes.
“I’ll take you to a clinic. That seems like a nasty scratch,” the stranger offers. Sehun is hesitating, afraid of being with another man this late at night. Then he tilts his head to the side and Sehun sees the three-pronged scar, the sign of the procedure. He immediately sighs in relief; the boy is cured.
“We should hurry. It’s going to be curfew for you soon.” He pulls Sehun up and drags the bike on his other side. Sehun tries to calm down, trying his very best to ignore the hand holding his elbow. No one ever touches him. Only his parents or Baekhyun can.
But it’s different with someone who’s cured. The touch is impersonal and distant, made simply because of necessity. A part of Sehun hates this, but he’s also comforted by it.
They arrive at the clinic eventually. The walls are clean and white, just like the hospital in Incheon. Everything smells like disinfectant and Sehun remembers the time he went to the hospital because of a broken hand that was caused by him “falling off the stairs,” as his father had explained to the doctors. Actually, he was a little too worked up that night and Sehun accidentally dropped a glass while trying to return it in the cupboards.
The cure isn’t perfect, Sehun concludes. Everything worked for his father, but his anger and temper wasn’t reduced. In fact, it made him easier to be agitated since the most vivid emotion in his mind is anger. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until Sehun starts crying and he has to stop, hold back the belt and walk away from the sight of Sehun curled up into a ball on the floor.
The nurse carefully places cotton on the bleeding area and tapes it up. “You’ll be fine.”
“Thank you,” Sehun says blankly. The stranger is waiting for him at the receptionist’s desk, paying for something. “Thank you,” he says again. The man nods, taking his change from the woman behind the desk.
“Please make sure that the cotton stays on his knee until the bleeding stops, Zitao,” the nurse advises. Sehun nods at the sound of his name. Zitao, he repeats in his mind.
Zitao walks out of the clinic and Sehun follows silently, happy to see his bike safely leaning on the wall. “I’m sorry for what happened. I should have stayed out of your way,” mutters Zitao. “I’m Huang Zitao, by the way.”
“Oh Sehun. Nice meeting you,” he greets. Zitao takes his hand and shakes it.
“Not under these circumstances, though.” His chuckle is refreshing to Sehun’s ears.
The watch on his wrist captures Sehun’s attention. He checks his watch quickly and sees that it’s curfew in twenty minutes. Hastily, he gets on his bike and looks back at Zitao quickly.
“I’m sorry, it’s curfew in a few minutes. I have to go.” Zitao nods at him and Sehun walks his bike out from under the clinic’s roof, cycling quickly when he’s on the road.
He arrives right before curfew is officially set, and his mother’s waiting for him in the living room. She sighs, rolling her eyes at the sight of Sehun’s wrinkled clothes and scraped knee.
“You’re lucky that your father went to sleep early,” she says quietly. Sehun briefly sees a new bruise blossoming on her forearm, presumably from his father gripping her again. She doesn’t give him a chance to ask, retreating back to her room.
Sehun makes sure to lock the front door before he hides in his own room. The dark blue of the walls welcome him, and he falls asleep as soon as his head meets the pillow.
On the next day, there’s mail at their doorstep. Sehun’s mother is afraid that it’s another set of bills, but the small smile on her face tells Sehun otherwise.
“It’s your pair,” she announces. The tension is palpable in the air; even the wheezing of the kettle on the stove seems more peaceful than the silence in the air. She takes slow steps towards the dining table, floorboards creaking beneath her feet, papers in her hand rustling as she tries to open the envelope.
Wordlessly, she hands the opened envelope to her husband. He’s indifferent as always, and Sehun wishes that he’d see even just a sliver of emotion, a little hint of excitement in his face. He’s dreading the result instead of anticipating it with joy like how others would.
“Krystal Jung. Not bad,” comments his father. Sehun recognizes Krystal from the all-girls school across the all-boys school that he studies in. She’s kind of quiet and intimidating and serious. She’s a perfect pair for Sehun.
He sees the house across the street from the window. It only takes him sixteen long strides to reach Baekhyun’s house, knock on his door and wait for someone to respond. Right now, he wants to walk over and ask him about his pair, asking him if he’s okay with all of this.
Recently, Baekhyun seemed suspicious: more worked up and excitable and alive. It’s probably what Baekhyun is supposed to be, but it’s not the serious guy he’s been trying to perfect for years.
Sehun thinks of Krystal Jung, of her long hair and generally pretty face. He thinks of that brief smile she gave him when she was walking around and he was right there, just staring at her. Maybe being with her for the rest of his life won’t be the worst thing in the world.
Then he thinks of the sea underneath his fingertips, how the waves crashed against him over and over and over again that day. He feels like he’s back in the sea again, and life is trying to drown him with all of these new things happening to him. It’s terrifying, but this is how life has been placed in front of him. His parents went through it; his grandparents went through it; his great grandparents went through it. He’s going to have to accept that it is what it is.
They throw their caps into the air and scream in excitement as the thought of graduation finally sinks in. Sehun is in the middle of the crowd, and he briefly sees the scrawny, quiet kid during first year that slowly blossomed into the intelligent valedictorian that he is now. Sehun sees those girls who used to be the devil’s spawn suddenly turn into crying messes now that they realize how far apart their lives are going to be. Sehun sees the few people who were already cured, those who are nearly emotionless while everyone around them is celebrating.
He doesn’t want to be like that.
Baekhyun grasps his hand, grin looking devious on his face. “We made it!” yells Baekhyun.
“Yes we did.” He squeezes Baekhyun’s pretty fingers and grins back. They really did make it.
On the car ride home, Sehun is stuck with his completely emotionless parents. They probably thought it was a waste of time, just another meaningless celebration. When they go home, they’re just going to turn on the evening news at five thirty PM. They’re going to set the plates down ten minutes later and his dad will come home at six o’clock sharp. Nothing really changes for them.
When they arrive, Sehun sees Baekhyun just going inside his house. He waves at him but his neighbor barely even notices. He nods his acknowledgment and goes inside. But Sehun noticed the shaking of his fingers, the way he’s alternating between a smile and his straight face.
As he expected, it’s the usual evening routine. It’s okay, Sehun tells himself. He shouldn’t really expect anything from them.
He goes into his room and stares at the books on his shelf. They’re all textbooks and maybe a few approved books by the Deliria Free Society, the branch of the government that is focused on eradicating the world of the deliria.
Sehun runs his hands over the dusty spines, remembering the years of slaving over these books and trying his best not to be a disappointment to their name. He remembers his biology class during second year; he dissected a frog and several classmates of his passed out in the lab. He remembers all his math classes; he’s always been good at math. His dad thinks he’ll get an accounting job like he did, but Sehun hopes that he’ll be something different from his father.
He stacks them all up and places them in a corner where he doesn’t have to see them. His mom told him of a bookstore where he can sell these and get rid of them forever. Sehun notices that there are only a few things left: a children’s storybook, a picture frame of his family in front of the sea and his copy of The Book of Shh.
Curiously, he holds the book up and observes it. He hasn’t opened this book in a long time, but they’ve practically been living its morals for all their lives so he doesn’t see why he really has to read it.
A change in the shadows on the ceiling surprises him. Sehun looks out the window and sees Baekhyun creeping out of his house, staying near the shadows. Sehun knows this is bad, knows that his best friend’s going to get in big trouble if he’s caught.
That doesn’t stop Sehun from sneaking out of his own house and following him. They creep through most of the neighborhood, entering the main part of the city and then ducking into a tunnel and out towards the area near the outskirts of the city. Sehun’s scared. There’s an abandoned neighborhood nearby, and he doesn’t want anything to do with that place. Still, he’s too scared to run up towards Baekhyun and stop him at his tracks. He’s not going to suppress his own curiosity either.
Baekhyun finally slows down when he’s in the neighborhood of empty houses. The streetlights are all old and slightly dim; only the clear white of the moon provides steady lighting on the ground. Sehun watches as his hand lingers in front of a doorknob.
“Baekhyun!” hisses Sehun. The older male doesn’t seem to notice. “Baekhyun!”
He finally turns to face him. Baekhyun’s eyes widen, suddenly seeming flustered and scared. “What are you doing here?”
“Making sure you don’t get into trouble,” Sehun pauses, “alone.”
Baekhyun grins. “Glad to see you’re on my side at least.”
He quietly opens the door and peeks inside. Sehun does the same, but he’s not pleased by the sight that he sees.
Regulators. There are regulators everywhere. They have teens chained or tied up, some of them look bloody and beaten up. The clubs in the regulators’ hands have drying blood on them, and Sehun knows who those came from.
They slip away as quietly as possible, trying their best not to get caught. Sehun backs away from the door, looking around to see if anyone saw them.
Just his luck, a regulator steps out from another house and catches his gaze. “Hey!” the burly man yells, causing Baekhyun and Sehun to run immediately.
They don’t know where they’re going, where their feet are taking them, but all they know is run, run, run. They find themselves in a forest behind the houses, and Sehun doesn’t realize that he’s alone until he doesn’t hear Baekhyun’s panting beside him. He hears a gun being fired and Sehun feels the bullet graze his leg. Sehun grunts in pain, holding back the scream that threatens to rip out from his throat.
He’s abruptly pulled into a dark area, and he’s afraid that he’s been caught or shot or this is it. This is the end for him. Sehun starts hyperventilating, tears brimming in his eyes.
“Shh,” he hears someone say. “Calm down; you’ll be safe here.”
Sehun hears a small click and there’s light in the dark space that he’s in. It’s a small shed, dusty and smelly and horrible, but not as bad as being in the Crypts or being on an operating table while doctors insert the cure into your bloodstream. Nothing’s ever going to be as bad as that.
He finally notices the person in front of him, and he’s surprised to see that it’s Huang Zitao, the man who took him to the clinic about a week or two ago. Zitao brings out a handkerchief and ties it around his calf on the area that the bullet scraped.
Sehun watches him move his fingers quickly, wondering why this stranger is helping him. “What are you doing? Why are you helping me?” He checks Zitao’s neck and the mark of the procedure is clear and visible on his skin. What’s happening?
When he notices that he can see the scar as clear as day, that’s when he realizes that they’re practically breathing each other’s air. Sehun has his leg on Zitao’s lap and they’re both leaning forward. All they need is a slight movement and then-
Zitao kisses him.
It’s quick, barely even a second, but he knows that it really happened. Sehun’s breathing gets heavier, even if it’s just a small kiss. He’s scared, terrified to be honest, of Zitao. He’s scared of his warm eyes and his warm touch and the way that he licks his lips as if he’s savoring the slight taste of Sehun on his lips.
“You’re an Unnatural,” Sehun whispers. The scowl on Zitao’s face wasn’t what he wanted to see.
“All of you are the same,” he grumbles, dropping Sehun’s leg to the floor. The sudden movement has Sehun gritting his teeth in pain, reminding him of the bleeding still occurring in his leg. “‘Unnaturals,’ ‘Invalids’; you all treat them like they’re not people. Like they’re animals or specimen waiting to be named and classified.”
Zitao stays silent for a second. “The coast is clear. You should go.”
“But I don’t understand. Why-”
“Go. Now.”
Sehun doesn’t hesitate when he walks out of the shed and into the forest again. He’s sure that he can navigate his way out of there; with a little instinct and a lot of prayer, he’s going to make it out.
He looks back at the shed for a fragment of a second. It’s weird: what happened in there. It’s as if his world has turned, even just a little.
When he finally makes it back home, limping and hiding in the shadows as much as possible, he thinks of Baekhyun. He looks out his window and tries to see if Baekhyun’s shadow is moving around behind his curtain. He’s desperately hoping that his best friend made it, that he’s going to be okay.
He’s hoping that everything’s going to be okay.
Sehun’s heart skips a beat when he decides to take those sixteen steps to Baekhyun’s front door. He knocks on the door and it’s opened instantly. It’s Baekhyun.
“You’re okay,” he whispers. Baekhyun’s eyes get a little teary.
“You’re okay. I’m glad. I’m so glad.”
There are circles underneath his eyes, and it’s as if his hands are permanently shaking. Sehun knows he’s not ever going to be as outspoken as Baekhyun, never going to be as strong as him. But seeing his best friend like this, shaking and nervous and terrified of everything, it makes him want to protect Baekhyun for the rest of his life.
“We’re going to be fine right? Everything’s going to be perfectly fine?” Baekhyun’s voice is wavering, and Sehun reaches forward to squeeze his hand. Again, physical contact is still weird for him. He still doesn’t like it, even if they’ve touched a thousand times.
Even if a stranger touched me and kissed me just last night.
“We’re going to be fine. Nothing’s going to change.”
Sehun knows he’s lying. Change is the only thing that’s ever constant, he knows.
Sehun puts down his apron and says goodbye to the owner of the convenience store that he’s working in. He knows he’ll have to say goodbye to this small job as well, as soon as he goes into college and he’ll have to focus on school and things like that again. He knows he’ll miss the steady hum of the freezers, the bell that rings every time the door opens. He knows he’ll miss the free time as well, the times that Baekhyun would randomly drop by and they’d play video games or listen to the radio while waiting for customers.
The riverside strip is nearby, so he decides to go there and watch the river again. It’s still four PM and he’s sure that his mother won’t be looking for him so everything’s fine.
What isn’t fine is when he sees Zitao staring at the river. Sehun makes a move to turn around and run, but Zitao suddenly decides to turn around and face him. His mouth forms a perfect circle, but he doesn’t run away. Instead he walks towards Sehun, completely ignoring how Sehun stiffens and looks away from him.
“Walk with me.” Sehun doesn’t expect the warmth in Zitao’s voice. He’s soft and he speaks quietly, but he can hear the demand in his voice. Sehun looks up, around, anywhere but at Zitao. “Come on.”
Sehun follows, even if he knows that this isn’t a good idea. Then again, why would it be a bad idea? Zitao isn’t going to do anything to him anyway.
They don’t actually talk for the most part. Zitao seems content while strolling down the strip and Sehun just outright refuses to talk. He doesn’t trust Zitao, not even-especially because of that kiss that they shared, if it was even serious enough to be called a kiss.
“I want to meet you later tonight,” Sehun already steps away from him, “in the house across the one where they were supposed to have a party. I want to talk to you properly.”
The younger male breathes slowly. “I don’t trust you.”
“I know you don’t. I want to change that.”
“I-I...” Sehun doesn’t know what to say. Zitao is... dangerous. Zitao is not who he seems to be.
And yet Sehun wants to know more. Sehun wants to know Zitao, the way he wants to be known. Sehun wants to know why? Why did he help Sehun? Why did he kiss him? Sehun wants to know everything about Zitao: from the roughness of his hands to the taste of his lips.
It’s almost as if he’s walking around on thin ice, holding his breath and hoping that he doesn’t fall through the ground. He wants to get to the other side, where Zitao’s waiting for him, but the circumstances and the changes that he’s going through are making him feel the fear. Sehun wants so many things.
Sehun goes home with the thought of Zitao lingering in his mind. He has so many questions, always has so many questions, and he’s hoping that Zitao’s the answer to all of that.
It’s five thirty. They turn on the news.
It’s five forty. They set the plates down.
It’s six o’clock. His father’s home.
It’s eight o’clock. He’s rereading The Book of Shh, just to remind him of his moral duties as a citizen.
It’s nine o’clock. He’s done brushing his teeth and he’s already wearing his sleep clothes.
It’s nine thirty. He’s tossing and turning on his bed, thinking of Zitao, alone in that house, waiting for him.
It’s nine forty-five. His hands are twitching on top of his coat, thinking of grabbing it and running.
It’s nine forty-six. He’s snuck out of the house.
He runs through the neighborhood, sticking to the shadows and keeping his head low. Sehun knows the path to that neighborhood fairly well by now since he’s been thinking of it since the night of graduation. He knows his way around the streets, sticking to dark alleys where he knows he won’t be caught. Or at least where he hopes he wouldn’t.
He knows that volunteer patrollers are out prowling at this time of the night. It’s not the first time he’s heard of horror stories of uncureds running around and being caught and beaten up by these patrollers. The thought that he could be one of those teens is unnerving.
He makes it there safely though. Sehun doesn’t know what he should do; shouted he knock or barge right in? He turns around to see the house that he was nearly caught in a few days ago. Sehun shudders, trying not to go back to that night as much as possible.
He finally decides to walk in. He doesn’t want to risk being heard by anyone, even if he doesn’t know if there’s anyone nearby. Sehun enters the house quietly, carefully making sure that there are no regulators around and this isn’t a trap.
Zitao’s on the couch in the large area that must have been a living room once. There’s a mat on the floor, a paper that must have held a loaf of bread before since there are crumbs on the mat, an old flashlight that sits right underneath Zitao’s hand.
“You came,” whispers Zitao. He stands up instantly, raising himself to Sehun’s height.
“I have a lot of things to ask,” Sehun starts.
“I know. I know that. I know it must have taken a lot from you to have you here right now.” Zitao sighs. “I know you don’t trust me.”
“I don’t. I really don’t trust you.”
Zitao takes his hand, again ignoring how he stiffens and tries to tug his arm back. He guides Sehun’s fingers to the side of his neck where his procedural scar is. Sehun gasps; it’s the first time he’s ever really touched a scar since physical contact is... weird.
And that’s when he feels Zitao’s breath fanning on his face, his rough palm against his wrist, his sturdy chest. He feels a multitude of things, things he should never even have to think about.
“The scar isn’t real. I’m not cured.”
“What do you mean you’re not cured? Then what is this?” He presses his fingertips more firmly against the mark. Zitao holds his wrist tighter.
“I’m an... Invalid, as you say. I came from the Wilds.” Sehun shakes his hand away instantly.
“N-no. This can’t be. I shouldn’t be near you, I-”
He’s interrupted by Zitao roughly pulling him in and kissing him. Sehun moans, even in his surprise. His hands find their way to the back of Zitao’s neck, tightening and releasing every now and then. Zitao kisses him like he’s on a mission, like he would lose himself if he ever lets go of Sehun.
He pushes Sehun down to the couch, climbing on top of him. Zitao can feel the beating of their hearts; it’s all going way too fast but they just can’t stop. Zitao licks at the seam of his lips and Sehun gives him access instantly, not even making a sound.
A loud moan is drawn out from him when Zitao accidentally brushes their hips against each other. They stop, and Zitao pulls away to look at Sehun fully. He looks wrecked and flustered and completely turned on, leaving Zitao with a question on his lips.
“Yes,” whispers Sehun.
That’s all Zitao needs before he fixes his position and aligns their crotches. Even through Zitao’s jeans and Sehun’s sweatpants, they can feel each other. Zitao’s barely even moving but Sehun’s eyes are already rolling to the back of his head, eyes fluttering shut. The warmth and the kissing and the strong body pinning him down is enough to make him lose all inhibitions, rutting up against Zitao as roughly as he can. Zitao returns the favor and kisses Sehun again, swallowing every moan with his lips and rolling his body perfectly with Sehun’s.
It’s really all too much, and Sehun comes within a few minutes. His hands grip Zitao’s shoulders painfully, waiting until the older male spasms on top of him as well. They stay in silence, with their hitching breaths and desperate panting.
Sehun pushes him away roughly, trying to pick up the pieces of his broken mind. Zitao’s lying on the sofa, like the position Sehun first found him in.
“Sehun, please don’t-”
The younger male doesn’t wait for him to finish before he runs away. He’s not ready for this, for anything that involves an Unnatural, an Invalid even. He doesn’t want to involve himself with the walking heap of trouble that is Huang Zitao.
He runs. He feels the wind hitting his face while he carelessly zips through the streets. He feels every nerve of his body at the moment, and he feels them tingling at the thought of Zitao. Every part of him is on fire, and what he needs the most right now is the shock of reality like a cold bucket of water. He needs reality, and he needs it now.
The sound of the volunteer patrollers’ sirens is enough to bring him back to reality, most definitely. Sehun knows that sound more than the average teen does; he’s pulled Baekhyun out of enough risky situations to know the sirens’ every single tune like the back of his hand. Sehun hates it but he remembers how much he shouldn’t be with Zitao ever again.
Sehun creeps within the shadows, breathing shallowly and sticking to the walls. He doesn’t usually sneak out, but right now the thrill and adrenaline is the only thing keeping him alert and safe from death.
He recognizes some of them, familiar neighbors or just people in his local community. Sehun’s more afraid than ever; what if someone recognizes him? It would be an ultimate disgrace to his family and also to his own safety.
Luckily, they ride off to another street, getting farther and farther away. He sighs in relief and continues on his path through the twisting streets back home. Sehun safely makes it into the house and crashes on the bed when he finally closes the door to his room.
Belatedly, he remembers to get a new pair of underwear and clean clothes. The feeling of Zitao against him is still strong, and all he wants is to get rid of it for now. Just for now.
The ticking of the clock is driving him insane. Besides that, there’s also the whirring of the electric fan, the steady hum of the refrigerators, the cool metal of the cash register searing a mark onto his arm. Sehun doesn’t expect any customers; it’s the middle of the afternoon and he’s sure that everyone’s have already eaten something.
He’s definitely surprised when the bell rings and it’s Zitao who opens the door. Right now, he’d very much like to run away, but he can’t, not with how Zitao stares at him blankly. It’s as if the past night never even happened, like he’s back to being an emotionless, regular citizen again.
Nothing can cover up the spark that travels between them when Zitao hands Sehun the bottle of water and their fingers brush against each other’s slightly. Nothing will ever hide the fact that Sehun still hasn’t gotten Zitao off his mind.
“Zitao, I’m sorry if I ran away. I guess I ran because I was afraid-” Zitao just walks away from him.
“But not because I didn’t like it!”
Zitao stops in his tracks at that. He turns around; the grin is back on his face. “Meet back there?”
Sehun thinks of it, of what’s really going to happen to him if he continues meeting up with Zitao like this. Will he really end up changing his mind about Zitao or will the tan skinned boy always be the terrifying stranger to him?
Baekhyun stops by later that afternoon. Usually they’d know what to talk about, but now there’s just an empty silence, filled with the whirring of the fan and small talk that will never really be enough for two people that are as close as they are. Sehun knows what’s happening to himself, but he doesn’t know if there’s anything going on with Baekhyun anymore.
“Are you okay?” he asks. Tentatively, warily, he reaches out for Baekhyun. The older male isn’t flinching away from him, but he tenses up. Sehun pulls his hand away; it must not be a good day.
“Yeah, I just remembered that my procedure is in a month.” Sehun’s breathing hitches. He hasn’t thought about his procedure in a while. It does explain why Baekhyun’s eyes are blank and empty, why he isn’t blabbering on about everything like how he always does. The cure changes you, even before you receive it.
But Sehun knows that it’s good for him. He knows that the cure will save him from love, make him immune from its dangers. The only thing he has to do is wait for his time to come and hope that everything goes well with him.
He’s heard stories of the procedure not working properly. He’s heard stories of people still being infected with the deliria even after receiving the cure. They walk the halls of the Crypts, slowly being destroyed by the love inside them.
Sehun smiles when he sees that his shift is over. He bids goodbye to the shop owner and walks out with Baekhyun behind him. The smaller male catches up to him and places his hand on Sehun’s shoulder. He turns around.
“Is anything wrong?” Sehun asks. Baekhyun opens his mouth, as if he’s trying to say something. But then they see a shadow moving in the corner, and neither of them wants to continue any conversation about the cure. Even questioning it can be considered an act of sympathy or a sign that you’re against it.
“Nothing. I just wanted to know if you’ve already received the news about your pair.” His words come to him slowly, a telltale sign that he’s lying. Sehun nods.
“I already know mine. Do you remember Krystal Jung, from the school across ours?”
“Hmm,” Baekhyun mutters, “long brown hair? Pretty face but occasionally bitchy attitude?” Sehun laughs.
“Bingo. That’s her.” They let go of the mask of indifference, just for a little while. Even with the knowledge that there’s probably someone watching them, they let themselves have fun for once.
Sehun knows that what he’s doing is wrong, so so wrong. He’s grown up as a good kid, despite everything that he’s gone through, and he’s survived because he has common sense. Common sense tells him that going out after curfew and heading to a condemned neighborhood so that he’ll see an uncured Invalid is not a smart thing to do.
His heart tells him to keep going.
Since when has he followed his heart anyway? Since when has the fast beating of it, the way he feels breathless and lightheaded when he’s with someone, ever mattered to him? Since when have they taught him that following his heart is perfectly fine?
Never. And he’ll never get rid of the guilt and fear that plagues his mind while he runs through the streets and up the small hill where the empty streets and lonely houses are. Sehun only keeps walking because he’s already there.
The door is left slightly open. Sehun doesn’t know if he should be scared or if it means Zitao’s welcoming him inside.
He peeks inside, taking slow steps and trying to see if he can escape quickly should he ever see any regulators inside. Sehun sees Zitao eating on the mat, reading a book. The older male senses someone else’s presence and grins at Sehun.
“Hey,” he greets. Sehun flashes a shaky smile and sits down on the couch, away from Zitao. He seems unfazed, but Sehun can see a little hurt in his eyes.
“We never get to properly talk,” Sehun starts. “I want to understand what’s going on. I really do, but you-”
He’s interrupted by Zitao kissing him again. Sehun wants to push him away, but his hands only tighten into balls against Zitao’s shirt. This is why he can’t get anything out of Zitao: they never get any talking done because of how eager he is to touch.
“You get more confused when you talk,” Zitao whispers into his mouth. “You think and think and think, and you don’t understand that you’re just wasting your time by thinking. You feel like everything you’re doing is wrong, and it takes away all the enjoyment you feel when you’re doing it.”
“But what we’re doing is wrong. Sneaking out, going to an empty neighborhood, kissing each other; it’s all wrong,” argues Sehun.
He pulls away from Sehun, watching him breathe heavily. “If it’s so wrong, then why can’t you stop yourself from continuing?”
A warm hand is on Sehun’s chest. “Tell me why you can’t stop. Tell me why you pulled me closer instead of pushing me away. You want to talk? Then talk. Tell me why all of this is so wrong.”
Sehun licks his lips. “They always say it is.”
“Who?”
“People. People everywhere. I’ve grown up to disdain everything you stand for, Zitao. And yet I’m becoming everything that I shouldn’t be. They warned me about this, that the deliria can change you in a heartbeat.”
Zitao sits down beside him, pulling him closer and letting Sehun bury his head in the crook of his neck. He smells like the earth and a little bit of soap. He smells like uncertainty, danger, excitement. He smells like bright springs and warm summers and life. Zitao smells like he knows everything about life.
“You’re scared.”
“I am.”
“And that’s good. Fear is a real emotion, Sehun. And so is happiness. The cure... it takes it away from you. It takes everything away from you. You think you’re living, but you’re not. You think that everything is better when you feel less, when you live in your own bubble of play pretend.
“Some people are afraid of love, and that’s why most people just follow their elders and get the procedure done. But I’m afraid of never being able to love. I’m afraid that one day, I won’t enjoy running or standing on the shore and feeling the waves tickle my ankles. I’m afraid that I won’t know what it feels like to exist like a full person.
“The cure is sometimes good because it takes away the pain. But love is not pain, Sehun. Don’t ever think that the only thing it will ever cause in your life is grief and sadness.”
The only thing Sehun can feel is the warmth of Zitao’s hand on his waist. The only thing he can hear is his voice whispering words that Sehun always thought were wrong. The only thing he wants to feel is Zitao breathing beside him, breathing with him.
“Do you still want to talk?” Zitao asks after a long period of silence.
“Yes,” answers Sehun. But first he pulls Zitao down for a kiss, one that lingers and makes him shiver all around his body. Zitao doesn’t push him. He lets Sehun take control for once, and the only thing he does is smile against Sehun’s lips.
“I want you to teach me how to feel.”
PART 2
sehun/tao, kai/sehun, side!kris/suho - r - romance, action/adventure, angst - child abuse, violence, sexual scenes, [minor & major character death] - 31682 words
Delirium!AU. in a world where fear rules over all, will there ever be any space for love?
disclaimer: the “Delirium” series is not mine; it is the property of Lauren Oliver and HarperCollins Publications. The universe is all theirs, but this story is mine.
The world is drowned in fear.
It is drowned in fear and indifference and the emptiness of the lack of love.
Love was declared a disease a century ago, and the government found the cure that they needed to fully realize their goals and eradicate the world of the disease that is Amor Deliria Nervosa. Anyone who is uncured is thought of to be a shaky variable, someone that could prove to be a liability to society in a matter of seconds.
But not all people want the safety from this “disease,” as the government called it. Others wanted the love inside them to destroy and rot their bodies from the inside out, like what the government said it would do. Others wanted the deliria, and they were out casted from society, kept locked up in prisons and detained in loneliness for the rest of their lives where they would starve and claw their way out just because of the love that they fought for.
Then there were the rumored Invalids, the ones that ran away completely from the safe and sheltered Cities. They lived in the Wilds, making the most out of their measly lives without any steady supply of food or a permanent shelter. The government told their people that these Invalids didn’t exist at all, but some people knew the truth that they were all out there, free to reign in their own land and love who they want to love.
The world is drowned in fear.
Wars are not started because of love. They are stopped before they can even start because of fear.
Sehun is shaking. It’s only natural; everyone gets a little nervous before their Evaluation. The shaking is much worse on others though, and Sehun is a little comforted by the fact that he didn’t go into this evaluation day on his own.
Baekhyun looks calm and ready beside him. But he knows his good friend and neighbor since he was born; he’s nervous too. Sehun smiles at him and Baekhyun chuckles. It’s a silent “we’ll be okay.” They’ll be fine.
“Byun Baekhyun,” the woman waiting outside the door says. The boy being called stands up abruptly, poised and serious. It’s the façade they have to put up: poised and perfect and ready to be paired with a good person.
Now Sehun feels the fear echoing inside his hollow mind, waiting for him to crack. He’s afraid of letting too much of himself talk, of showing that he might possibly have the deliria inside him. It’s not that he does; it’s just that the evaluators see a possibility as the disease itself. He must learn to control himself, to seem like a perfect citizen who will be everything that society wants him to be.
Another door opens. “Oh Sehun.”
Sehun puts on his mask of indifference, something his father taught him well. Hit after hit, with every single strike of the belt against his pale skin, his father taught him how to be indifferent and silent and to feel nothing but empty. He will do well in this evaluation.
Sehun strips off his clothes and stands underneath the glaring light, the only light in the entire room. In front of him, he thinks he can see the faces of his evaluators across the glass, but Sehun knows that he’s probably a clear picture to them. He knows that they can see everything about him: the abuse, the loneliness, the silence. But it’s okay. They have to know.
Sehun’s favorite color is blue because his room’s walls are painted blue. Sehun likes to dance because he’s been taking ballet and jazz ever since he was seven. Sehun’s favorite subject is math because he excels at it in school.
These are questions that have been drilled into his mind. Sehun knows the Oh Sehun that they want to see. Sehun is going to give him the Oh Sehun that they want.
When Sehun is fully dressed and ready to go home, he sees Baekhyun waiting for him outside the building. He’s relieved to see the familiar smile on Baekhyun’s face. Sometimes all he needs is familiarity to bring him back down to earth.
“The evaluation is sickening, isn’t it?” Baekhyun mutters. Sehun sighs; he doesn’t really want to relive the awkwardness he felt while he was being observed like an animal with a glass between them, as if he was a danger to them all, like he was being separated from them because they were afraid of catching something he didn’t even have.
“I hate it. I wish we didn’t have to do it.” Baekhyun looks nervous, even more nervous than how he seemed before the evaluation. Sehun stops him in his place, holding his wrist lightly. The touch is strange, and even if they’ve been best friends for years, physical contact has always been weird for everyone.
“Baekhyun,” says Sehun. His voice is gentle, cautious even. Baekhyun’s expression is blank, but Sehun knows him a little better than most people. Something isn’t right.
“What?” The mischievous smile on Baekhyun’s face is back. Sehun’s eyes briefly flit over to a dark corner on the street. He thinks he sees a shadow there, a glimpse of a volunteer patrol or a regulator prowling in the darkness. He shivers, letting go of Baekhyun’s hand instantly.
Baekhyun knows what that shiver means. He’s well aware of the feeling that someone’s always watching him, and he’s had enough of that at home.
They walk side by side, silently heading home.
They’re right about their suspicion. There really is someone watching them, someone lurking in the shadows waiting for someone to mess up and reveal even just a sliver of the deliria. Everyone’s used to it; fear has always had a permanent grip on everyone’s necks.
The ticking of the clock drives him crazy. The evening news is turned on at exactly five thirty PM; they start placing the plates on the table ten minutes after; his father arrives at home from work when the clock strikes six. This has been Sehun’s life ever since he was a little kid.
It’s Tuesday, so Sehun has to wash the dishes alone. His mother adjusts the clothes he’s grown out of, and his father reads the paper even if he’s heard the evening news and tuned into the radio at work. After doing the dishes, he has to do his homework and go to sleep.
Sehun briefly thinks of going out for a run or riding his bike along the river like how he always does when he’s bored. The ticking of the clock reminds him of curfew, which is in two hours. He decides that it’s enough time to go out and bike around the neighborhood.
“Where are you going?” his father asks. Sehun’s hands still on the doorknob. He turns to face his father, and he’s relieved to see that there’s no anger in his eyes. He’s just reading the newspaper, probably busy on the finance section since he works at an accounting company.
“I’m just bringing my bike out. I’ll be back before curfew.” His father nods absently and Sehun walks out as fast as he can.
Sehun times his watch to an hour and a half and he pushes forward, riding as quickly as he can to the river nearby. He usually has Baekhyun to ride with him, but nowadays the older male is a little busy with school and his parents pushing him to do better even if he’s already doing everything right.
Sehun has a connection with the wind. He enjoys how it hits him while he’s running or riding his bike. He thinks of how it reminds him of flying, of those little dreams he had back then. Sehun was a little kid before, and now he’s a growing man. It’s scary to think of all the time that passed since then.
Back then was so long ago, he thinks to himself. Now he’s at the area beside the river, cement and tiles slowing down his run. He marvels at the clean water, the smell that clears his mind.
He’s surprised when there’s figure in front of him. Sehun steers the bike out of the way and accidentally collides against a lamp post. He falls off his seat, knee skidding against the pavement.
Sehun winces in pain, pulling his scratched knee against his chest. The stranger rushes to his side and pushes away the bike pinning his foot down.
“Are you okay?” the stranger asks. He seems like he’s near Sehun’s age, and Sehun blushes when he realizes how close they are. He can feel the warmth of the stranger’s skin seeping into his.
“I’m fine,” mutters Sehun. He holds onto the lamp post to stand up, grimacing at the feeling of dust and grime on his fingers. He rubs it on his pants, suddenly remembering that his mom’s going to be mad when she sees the dirt all over his clothes.
“I’ll take you to a clinic. That seems like a nasty scratch,” the stranger offers. Sehun is hesitating, afraid of being with another man this late at night. Then he tilts his head to the side and Sehun sees the three-pronged scar, the sign of the procedure. He immediately sighs in relief; the boy is cured.
“We should hurry. It’s going to be curfew for you soon.” He pulls Sehun up and drags the bike on his other side. Sehun tries to calm down, trying his very best to ignore the hand holding his elbow. No one ever touches him. Only his parents or Baekhyun can.
But it’s different with someone who’s cured. The touch is impersonal and distant, made simply because of necessity. A part of Sehun hates this, but he’s also comforted by it.
They arrive at the clinic eventually. The walls are clean and white, just like the hospital in Incheon. Everything smells like disinfectant and Sehun remembers the time he went to the hospital because of a broken hand that was caused by him “falling off the stairs,” as his father had explained to the doctors. Actually, he was a little too worked up that night and Sehun accidentally dropped a glass while trying to return it in the cupboards.
The cure isn’t perfect, Sehun concludes. Everything worked for his father, but his anger and temper wasn’t reduced. In fact, it made him easier to be agitated since the most vivid emotion in his mind is anger. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until Sehun starts crying and he has to stop, hold back the belt and walk away from the sight of Sehun curled up into a ball on the floor.
The nurse carefully places cotton on the bleeding area and tapes it up. “You’ll be fine.”
“Thank you,” Sehun says blankly. The stranger is waiting for him at the receptionist’s desk, paying for something. “Thank you,” he says again. The man nods, taking his change from the woman behind the desk.
“Please make sure that the cotton stays on his knee until the bleeding stops, Zitao,” the nurse advises. Sehun nods at the sound of his name. Zitao, he repeats in his mind.
Zitao walks out of the clinic and Sehun follows silently, happy to see his bike safely leaning on the wall. “I’m sorry for what happened. I should have stayed out of your way,” mutters Zitao. “I’m Huang Zitao, by the way.”
“Oh Sehun. Nice meeting you,” he greets. Zitao takes his hand and shakes it.
“Not under these circumstances, though.” His chuckle is refreshing to Sehun’s ears.
The watch on his wrist captures Sehun’s attention. He checks his watch quickly and sees that it’s curfew in twenty minutes. Hastily, he gets on his bike and looks back at Zitao quickly.
“I’m sorry, it’s curfew in a few minutes. I have to go.” Zitao nods at him and Sehun walks his bike out from under the clinic’s roof, cycling quickly when he’s on the road.
He arrives right before curfew is officially set, and his mother’s waiting for him in the living room. She sighs, rolling her eyes at the sight of Sehun’s wrinkled clothes and scraped knee.
“You’re lucky that your father went to sleep early,” she says quietly. Sehun briefly sees a new bruise blossoming on her forearm, presumably from his father gripping her again. She doesn’t give him a chance to ask, retreating back to her room.
Sehun makes sure to lock the front door before he hides in his own room. The dark blue of the walls welcome him, and he falls asleep as soon as his head meets the pillow.
On the next day, there’s mail at their doorstep. Sehun’s mother is afraid that it’s another set of bills, but the small smile on her face tells Sehun otherwise.
“It’s your pair,” she announces. The tension is palpable in the air; even the wheezing of the kettle on the stove seems more peaceful than the silence in the air. She takes slow steps towards the dining table, floorboards creaking beneath her feet, papers in her hand rustling as she tries to open the envelope.
Wordlessly, she hands the opened envelope to her husband. He’s indifferent as always, and Sehun wishes that he’d see even just a sliver of emotion, a little hint of excitement in his face. He’s dreading the result instead of anticipating it with joy like how others would.
“Krystal Jung. Not bad,” comments his father. Sehun recognizes Krystal from the all-girls school across the all-boys school that he studies in. She’s kind of quiet and intimidating and serious. She’s a perfect pair for Sehun.
He sees the house across the street from the window. It only takes him sixteen long strides to reach Baekhyun’s house, knock on his door and wait for someone to respond. Right now, he wants to walk over and ask him about his pair, asking him if he’s okay with all of this.
Recently, Baekhyun seemed suspicious: more worked up and excitable and alive. It’s probably what Baekhyun is supposed to be, but it’s not the serious guy he’s been trying to perfect for years.
Sehun thinks of Krystal Jung, of her long hair and generally pretty face. He thinks of that brief smile she gave him when she was walking around and he was right there, just staring at her. Maybe being with her for the rest of his life won’t be the worst thing in the world.
Then he thinks of the sea underneath his fingertips, how the waves crashed against him over and over and over again that day. He feels like he’s back in the sea again, and life is trying to drown him with all of these new things happening to him. It’s terrifying, but this is how life has been placed in front of him. His parents went through it; his grandparents went through it; his great grandparents went through it. He’s going to have to accept that it is what it is.
They throw their caps into the air and scream in excitement as the thought of graduation finally sinks in. Sehun is in the middle of the crowd, and he briefly sees the scrawny, quiet kid during first year that slowly blossomed into the intelligent valedictorian that he is now. Sehun sees those girls who used to be the devil’s spawn suddenly turn into crying messes now that they realize how far apart their lives are going to be. Sehun sees the few people who were already cured, those who are nearly emotionless while everyone around them is celebrating.
He doesn’t want to be like that.
Baekhyun grasps his hand, grin looking devious on his face. “We made it!” yells Baekhyun.
“Yes we did.” He squeezes Baekhyun’s pretty fingers and grins back. They really did make it.
On the car ride home, Sehun is stuck with his completely emotionless parents. They probably thought it was a waste of time, just another meaningless celebration. When they go home, they’re just going to turn on the evening news at five thirty PM. They’re going to set the plates down ten minutes later and his dad will come home at six o’clock sharp. Nothing really changes for them.
When they arrive, Sehun sees Baekhyun just going inside his house. He waves at him but his neighbor barely even notices. He nods his acknowledgment and goes inside. But Sehun noticed the shaking of his fingers, the way he’s alternating between a smile and his straight face.
As he expected, it’s the usual evening routine. It’s okay, Sehun tells himself. He shouldn’t really expect anything from them.
He goes into his room and stares at the books on his shelf. They’re all textbooks and maybe a few approved books by the Deliria Free Society, the branch of the government that is focused on eradicating the world of the deliria.
Sehun runs his hands over the dusty spines, remembering the years of slaving over these books and trying his best not to be a disappointment to their name. He remembers his biology class during second year; he dissected a frog and several classmates of his passed out in the lab. He remembers all his math classes; he’s always been good at math. His dad thinks he’ll get an accounting job like he did, but Sehun hopes that he’ll be something different from his father.
He stacks them all up and places them in a corner where he doesn’t have to see them. His mom told him of a bookstore where he can sell these and get rid of them forever. Sehun notices that there are only a few things left: a children’s storybook, a picture frame of his family in front of the sea and his copy of The Book of Shh.
Curiously, he holds the book up and observes it. He hasn’t opened this book in a long time, but they’ve practically been living its morals for all their lives so he doesn’t see why he really has to read it.
A change in the shadows on the ceiling surprises him. Sehun looks out the window and sees Baekhyun creeping out of his house, staying near the shadows. Sehun knows this is bad, knows that his best friend’s going to get in big trouble if he’s caught.
That doesn’t stop Sehun from sneaking out of his own house and following him. They creep through most of the neighborhood, entering the main part of the city and then ducking into a tunnel and out towards the area near the outskirts of the city. Sehun’s scared. There’s an abandoned neighborhood nearby, and he doesn’t want anything to do with that place. Still, he’s too scared to run up towards Baekhyun and stop him at his tracks. He’s not going to suppress his own curiosity either.
Baekhyun finally slows down when he’s in the neighborhood of empty houses. The streetlights are all old and slightly dim; only the clear white of the moon provides steady lighting on the ground. Sehun watches as his hand lingers in front of a doorknob.
“Baekhyun!” hisses Sehun. The older male doesn’t seem to notice. “Baekhyun!”
He finally turns to face him. Baekhyun’s eyes widen, suddenly seeming flustered and scared. “What are you doing here?”
“Making sure you don’t get into trouble,” Sehun pauses, “alone.”
Baekhyun grins. “Glad to see you’re on my side at least.”
He quietly opens the door and peeks inside. Sehun does the same, but he’s not pleased by the sight that he sees.
Regulators. There are regulators everywhere. They have teens chained or tied up, some of them look bloody and beaten up. The clubs in the regulators’ hands have drying blood on them, and Sehun knows who those came from.
They slip away as quietly as possible, trying their best not to get caught. Sehun backs away from the door, looking around to see if anyone saw them.
Just his luck, a regulator steps out from another house and catches his gaze. “Hey!” the burly man yells, causing Baekhyun and Sehun to run immediately.
They don’t know where they’re going, where their feet are taking them, but all they know is run, run, run. They find themselves in a forest behind the houses, and Sehun doesn’t realize that he’s alone until he doesn’t hear Baekhyun’s panting beside him. He hears a gun being fired and Sehun feels the bullet graze his leg. Sehun grunts in pain, holding back the scream that threatens to rip out from his throat.
He’s abruptly pulled into a dark area, and he’s afraid that he’s been caught or shot or this is it. This is the end for him. Sehun starts hyperventilating, tears brimming in his eyes.
“Shh,” he hears someone say. “Calm down; you’ll be safe here.”
Sehun hears a small click and there’s light in the dark space that he’s in. It’s a small shed, dusty and smelly and horrible, but not as bad as being in the Crypts or being on an operating table while doctors insert the cure into your bloodstream. Nothing’s ever going to be as bad as that.
He finally notices the person in front of him, and he’s surprised to see that it’s Huang Zitao, the man who took him to the clinic about a week or two ago. Zitao brings out a handkerchief and ties it around his calf on the area that the bullet scraped.
Sehun watches him move his fingers quickly, wondering why this stranger is helping him. “What are you doing? Why are you helping me?” He checks Zitao’s neck and the mark of the procedure is clear and visible on his skin. What’s happening?
When he notices that he can see the scar as clear as day, that’s when he realizes that they’re practically breathing each other’s air. Sehun has his leg on Zitao’s lap and they’re both leaning forward. All they need is a slight movement and then-
Zitao kisses him.
It’s quick, barely even a second, but he knows that it really happened. Sehun’s breathing gets heavier, even if it’s just a small kiss. He’s scared, terrified to be honest, of Zitao. He’s scared of his warm eyes and his warm touch and the way that he licks his lips as if he’s savoring the slight taste of Sehun on his lips.
“You’re an Unnatural,” Sehun whispers. The scowl on Zitao’s face wasn’t what he wanted to see.
“All of you are the same,” he grumbles, dropping Sehun’s leg to the floor. The sudden movement has Sehun gritting his teeth in pain, reminding him of the bleeding still occurring in his leg. “‘Unnaturals,’ ‘Invalids’; you all treat them like they’re not people. Like they’re animals or specimen waiting to be named and classified.”
Zitao stays silent for a second. “The coast is clear. You should go.”
“But I don’t understand. Why-”
“Go. Now.”
Sehun doesn’t hesitate when he walks out of the shed and into the forest again. He’s sure that he can navigate his way out of there; with a little instinct and a lot of prayer, he’s going to make it out.
He looks back at the shed for a fragment of a second. It’s weird: what happened in there. It’s as if his world has turned, even just a little.
When he finally makes it back home, limping and hiding in the shadows as much as possible, he thinks of Baekhyun. He looks out his window and tries to see if Baekhyun’s shadow is moving around behind his curtain. He’s desperately hoping that his best friend made it, that he’s going to be okay.
He’s hoping that everything’s going to be okay.
Sehun’s heart skips a beat when he decides to take those sixteen steps to Baekhyun’s front door. He knocks on the door and it’s opened instantly. It’s Baekhyun.
“You’re okay,” he whispers. Baekhyun’s eyes get a little teary.
“You’re okay. I’m glad. I’m so glad.”
There are circles underneath his eyes, and it’s as if his hands are permanently shaking. Sehun knows he’s not ever going to be as outspoken as Baekhyun, never going to be as strong as him. But seeing his best friend like this, shaking and nervous and terrified of everything, it makes him want to protect Baekhyun for the rest of his life.
“We’re going to be fine right? Everything’s going to be perfectly fine?” Baekhyun’s voice is wavering, and Sehun reaches forward to squeeze his hand. Again, physical contact is still weird for him. He still doesn’t like it, even if they’ve touched a thousand times.
Even if a stranger touched me and kissed me just last night.
“We’re going to be fine. Nothing’s going to change.”
Sehun knows he’s lying. Change is the only thing that’s ever constant, he knows.
Sehun puts down his apron and says goodbye to the owner of the convenience store that he’s working in. He knows he’ll have to say goodbye to this small job as well, as soon as he goes into college and he’ll have to focus on school and things like that again. He knows he’ll miss the steady hum of the freezers, the bell that rings every time the door opens. He knows he’ll miss the free time as well, the times that Baekhyun would randomly drop by and they’d play video games or listen to the radio while waiting for customers.
The riverside strip is nearby, so he decides to go there and watch the river again. It’s still four PM and he’s sure that his mother won’t be looking for him so everything’s fine.
What isn’t fine is when he sees Zitao staring at the river. Sehun makes a move to turn around and run, but Zitao suddenly decides to turn around and face him. His mouth forms a perfect circle, but he doesn’t run away. Instead he walks towards Sehun, completely ignoring how Sehun stiffens and looks away from him.
“Walk with me.” Sehun doesn’t expect the warmth in Zitao’s voice. He’s soft and he speaks quietly, but he can hear the demand in his voice. Sehun looks up, around, anywhere but at Zitao. “Come on.”
Sehun follows, even if he knows that this isn’t a good idea. Then again, why would it be a bad idea? Zitao isn’t going to do anything to him anyway.
They don’t actually talk for the most part. Zitao seems content while strolling down the strip and Sehun just outright refuses to talk. He doesn’t trust Zitao, not even-especially because of that kiss that they shared, if it was even serious enough to be called a kiss.
“I want to meet you later tonight,” Sehun already steps away from him, “in the house across the one where they were supposed to have a party. I want to talk to you properly.”
The younger male breathes slowly. “I don’t trust you.”
“I know you don’t. I want to change that.”
“I-I...” Sehun doesn’t know what to say. Zitao is... dangerous. Zitao is not who he seems to be.
And yet Sehun wants to know more. Sehun wants to know Zitao, the way he wants to be known. Sehun wants to know why? Why did he help Sehun? Why did he kiss him? Sehun wants to know everything about Zitao: from the roughness of his hands to the taste of his lips.
It’s almost as if he’s walking around on thin ice, holding his breath and hoping that he doesn’t fall through the ground. He wants to get to the other side, where Zitao’s waiting for him, but the circumstances and the changes that he’s going through are making him feel the fear. Sehun wants so many things.
Sehun goes home with the thought of Zitao lingering in his mind. He has so many questions, always has so many questions, and he’s hoping that Zitao’s the answer to all of that.
It’s five thirty. They turn on the news.
It’s five forty. They set the plates down.
It’s six o’clock. His father’s home.
It’s eight o’clock. He’s rereading The Book of Shh, just to remind him of his moral duties as a citizen.
It’s nine o’clock. He’s done brushing his teeth and he’s already wearing his sleep clothes.
It’s nine thirty. He’s tossing and turning on his bed, thinking of Zitao, alone in that house, waiting for him.
It’s nine forty-five. His hands are twitching on top of his coat, thinking of grabbing it and running.
It’s nine forty-six. He’s snuck out of the house.
He runs through the neighborhood, sticking to the shadows and keeping his head low. Sehun knows the path to that neighborhood fairly well by now since he’s been thinking of it since the night of graduation. He knows his way around the streets, sticking to dark alleys where he knows he won’t be caught. Or at least where he hopes he wouldn’t.
He knows that volunteer patrollers are out prowling at this time of the night. It’s not the first time he’s heard of horror stories of uncureds running around and being caught and beaten up by these patrollers. The thought that he could be one of those teens is unnerving.
He makes it there safely though. Sehun doesn’t know what he should do; shouted he knock or barge right in? He turns around to see the house that he was nearly caught in a few days ago. Sehun shudders, trying not to go back to that night as much as possible.
He finally decides to walk in. He doesn’t want to risk being heard by anyone, even if he doesn’t know if there’s anyone nearby. Sehun enters the house quietly, carefully making sure that there are no regulators around and this isn’t a trap.
Zitao’s on the couch in the large area that must have been a living room once. There’s a mat on the floor, a paper that must have held a loaf of bread before since there are crumbs on the mat, an old flashlight that sits right underneath Zitao’s hand.
“You came,” whispers Zitao. He stands up instantly, raising himself to Sehun’s height.
“I have a lot of things to ask,” Sehun starts.
“I know. I know that. I know it must have taken a lot from you to have you here right now.” Zitao sighs. “I know you don’t trust me.”
“I don’t. I really don’t trust you.”
Zitao takes his hand, again ignoring how he stiffens and tries to tug his arm back. He guides Sehun’s fingers to the side of his neck where his procedural scar is. Sehun gasps; it’s the first time he’s ever really touched a scar since physical contact is... weird.
And that’s when he feels Zitao’s breath fanning on his face, his rough palm against his wrist, his sturdy chest. He feels a multitude of things, things he should never even have to think about.
“The scar isn’t real. I’m not cured.”
“What do you mean you’re not cured? Then what is this?” He presses his fingertips more firmly against the mark. Zitao holds his wrist tighter.
“I’m an... Invalid, as you say. I came from the Wilds.” Sehun shakes his hand away instantly.
“N-no. This can’t be. I shouldn’t be near you, I-”
He’s interrupted by Zitao roughly pulling him in and kissing him. Sehun moans, even in his surprise. His hands find their way to the back of Zitao’s neck, tightening and releasing every now and then. Zitao kisses him like he’s on a mission, like he would lose himself if he ever lets go of Sehun.
He pushes Sehun down to the couch, climbing on top of him. Zitao can feel the beating of their hearts; it’s all going way too fast but they just can’t stop. Zitao licks at the seam of his lips and Sehun gives him access instantly, not even making a sound.
A loud moan is drawn out from him when Zitao accidentally brushes their hips against each other. They stop, and Zitao pulls away to look at Sehun fully. He looks wrecked and flustered and completely turned on, leaving Zitao with a question on his lips.
“Yes,” whispers Sehun.
That’s all Zitao needs before he fixes his position and aligns their crotches. Even through Zitao’s jeans and Sehun’s sweatpants, they can feel each other. Zitao’s barely even moving but Sehun’s eyes are already rolling to the back of his head, eyes fluttering shut. The warmth and the kissing and the strong body pinning him down is enough to make him lose all inhibitions, rutting up against Zitao as roughly as he can. Zitao returns the favor and kisses Sehun again, swallowing every moan with his lips and rolling his body perfectly with Sehun’s.
It’s really all too much, and Sehun comes within a few minutes. His hands grip Zitao’s shoulders painfully, waiting until the older male spasms on top of him as well. They stay in silence, with their hitching breaths and desperate panting.
Sehun pushes him away roughly, trying to pick up the pieces of his broken mind. Zitao’s lying on the sofa, like the position Sehun first found him in.
“Sehun, please don’t-”
The younger male doesn’t wait for him to finish before he runs away. He’s not ready for this, for anything that involves an Unnatural, an Invalid even. He doesn’t want to involve himself with the walking heap of trouble that is Huang Zitao.
He runs. He feels the wind hitting his face while he carelessly zips through the streets. He feels every nerve of his body at the moment, and he feels them tingling at the thought of Zitao. Every part of him is on fire, and what he needs the most right now is the shock of reality like a cold bucket of water. He needs reality, and he needs it now.
The sound of the volunteer patrollers’ sirens is enough to bring him back to reality, most definitely. Sehun knows that sound more than the average teen does; he’s pulled Baekhyun out of enough risky situations to know the sirens’ every single tune like the back of his hand. Sehun hates it but he remembers how much he shouldn’t be with Zitao ever again.
Sehun creeps within the shadows, breathing shallowly and sticking to the walls. He doesn’t usually sneak out, but right now the thrill and adrenaline is the only thing keeping him alert and safe from death.
He recognizes some of them, familiar neighbors or just people in his local community. Sehun’s more afraid than ever; what if someone recognizes him? It would be an ultimate disgrace to his family and also to his own safety.
Luckily, they ride off to another street, getting farther and farther away. He sighs in relief and continues on his path through the twisting streets back home. Sehun safely makes it into the house and crashes on the bed when he finally closes the door to his room.
Belatedly, he remembers to get a new pair of underwear and clean clothes. The feeling of Zitao against him is still strong, and all he wants is to get rid of it for now. Just for now.
The ticking of the clock is driving him insane. Besides that, there’s also the whirring of the electric fan, the steady hum of the refrigerators, the cool metal of the cash register searing a mark onto his arm. Sehun doesn’t expect any customers; it’s the middle of the afternoon and he’s sure that everyone’s have already eaten something.
He’s definitely surprised when the bell rings and it’s Zitao who opens the door. Right now, he’d very much like to run away, but he can’t, not with how Zitao stares at him blankly. It’s as if the past night never even happened, like he’s back to being an emotionless, regular citizen again.
Nothing can cover up the spark that travels between them when Zitao hands Sehun the bottle of water and their fingers brush against each other’s slightly. Nothing will ever hide the fact that Sehun still hasn’t gotten Zitao off his mind.
“Zitao, I’m sorry if I ran away. I guess I ran because I was afraid-” Zitao just walks away from him.
“But not because I didn’t like it!”
Zitao stops in his tracks at that. He turns around; the grin is back on his face. “Meet back there?”
Sehun thinks of it, of what’s really going to happen to him if he continues meeting up with Zitao like this. Will he really end up changing his mind about Zitao or will the tan skinned boy always be the terrifying stranger to him?
Baekhyun stops by later that afternoon. Usually they’d know what to talk about, but now there’s just an empty silence, filled with the whirring of the fan and small talk that will never really be enough for two people that are as close as they are. Sehun knows what’s happening to himself, but he doesn’t know if there’s anything going on with Baekhyun anymore.
“Are you okay?” he asks. Tentatively, warily, he reaches out for Baekhyun. The older male isn’t flinching away from him, but he tenses up. Sehun pulls his hand away; it must not be a good day.
“Yeah, I just remembered that my procedure is in a month.” Sehun’s breathing hitches. He hasn’t thought about his procedure in a while. It does explain why Baekhyun’s eyes are blank and empty, why he isn’t blabbering on about everything like how he always does. The cure changes you, even before you receive it.
But Sehun knows that it’s good for him. He knows that the cure will save him from love, make him immune from its dangers. The only thing he has to do is wait for his time to come and hope that everything goes well with him.
He’s heard stories of the procedure not working properly. He’s heard stories of people still being infected with the deliria even after receiving the cure. They walk the halls of the Crypts, slowly being destroyed by the love inside them.
Sehun smiles when he sees that his shift is over. He bids goodbye to the shop owner and walks out with Baekhyun behind him. The smaller male catches up to him and places his hand on Sehun’s shoulder. He turns around.
“Is anything wrong?” Sehun asks. Baekhyun opens his mouth, as if he’s trying to say something. But then they see a shadow moving in the corner, and neither of them wants to continue any conversation about the cure. Even questioning it can be considered an act of sympathy or a sign that you’re against it.
“Nothing. I just wanted to know if you’ve already received the news about your pair.” His words come to him slowly, a telltale sign that he’s lying. Sehun nods.
“I already know mine. Do you remember Krystal Jung, from the school across ours?”
“Hmm,” Baekhyun mutters, “long brown hair? Pretty face but occasionally bitchy attitude?” Sehun laughs.
“Bingo. That’s her.” They let go of the mask of indifference, just for a little while. Even with the knowledge that there’s probably someone watching them, they let themselves have fun for once.
Sehun knows that what he’s doing is wrong, so so wrong. He’s grown up as a good kid, despite everything that he’s gone through, and he’s survived because he has common sense. Common sense tells him that going out after curfew and heading to a condemned neighborhood so that he’ll see an uncured Invalid is not a smart thing to do.
His heart tells him to keep going.
Since when has he followed his heart anyway? Since when has the fast beating of it, the way he feels breathless and lightheaded when he’s with someone, ever mattered to him? Since when have they taught him that following his heart is perfectly fine?
Never. And he’ll never get rid of the guilt and fear that plagues his mind while he runs through the streets and up the small hill where the empty streets and lonely houses are. Sehun only keeps walking because he’s already there.
The door is left slightly open. Sehun doesn’t know if he should be scared or if it means Zitao’s welcoming him inside.
He peeks inside, taking slow steps and trying to see if he can escape quickly should he ever see any regulators inside. Sehun sees Zitao eating on the mat, reading a book. The older male senses someone else’s presence and grins at Sehun.
“Hey,” he greets. Sehun flashes a shaky smile and sits down on the couch, away from Zitao. He seems unfazed, but Sehun can see a little hurt in his eyes.
“We never get to properly talk,” Sehun starts. “I want to understand what’s going on. I really do, but you-”
He’s interrupted by Zitao kissing him again. Sehun wants to push him away, but his hands only tighten into balls against Zitao’s shirt. This is why he can’t get anything out of Zitao: they never get any talking done because of how eager he is to touch.
“You get more confused when you talk,” Zitao whispers into his mouth. “You think and think and think, and you don’t understand that you’re just wasting your time by thinking. You feel like everything you’re doing is wrong, and it takes away all the enjoyment you feel when you’re doing it.”
“But what we’re doing is wrong. Sneaking out, going to an empty neighborhood, kissing each other; it’s all wrong,” argues Sehun.
He pulls away from Sehun, watching him breathe heavily. “If it’s so wrong, then why can’t you stop yourself from continuing?”
A warm hand is on Sehun’s chest. “Tell me why you can’t stop. Tell me why you pulled me closer instead of pushing me away. You want to talk? Then talk. Tell me why all of this is so wrong.”
Sehun licks his lips. “They always say it is.”
“Who?”
“People. People everywhere. I’ve grown up to disdain everything you stand for, Zitao. And yet I’m becoming everything that I shouldn’t be. They warned me about this, that the deliria can change you in a heartbeat.”
Zitao sits down beside him, pulling him closer and letting Sehun bury his head in the crook of his neck. He smells like the earth and a little bit of soap. He smells like uncertainty, danger, excitement. He smells like bright springs and warm summers and life. Zitao smells like he knows everything about life.
“You’re scared.”
“I am.”
“And that’s good. Fear is a real emotion, Sehun. And so is happiness. The cure... it takes it away from you. It takes everything away from you. You think you’re living, but you’re not. You think that everything is better when you feel less, when you live in your own bubble of play pretend.
“Some people are afraid of love, and that’s why most people just follow their elders and get the procedure done. But I’m afraid of never being able to love. I’m afraid that one day, I won’t enjoy running or standing on the shore and feeling the waves tickle my ankles. I’m afraid that I won’t know what it feels like to exist like a full person.
“The cure is sometimes good because it takes away the pain. But love is not pain, Sehun. Don’t ever think that the only thing it will ever cause in your life is grief and sadness.”
The only thing Sehun can feel is the warmth of Zitao’s hand on his waist. The only thing he can hear is his voice whispering words that Sehun always thought were wrong. The only thing he wants to feel is Zitao breathing beside him, breathing with him.
“Do you still want to talk?” Zitao asks after a long period of silence.
“Yes,” answers Sehun. But first he pulls Zitao down for a kiss, one that lingers and makes him shiver all around his body. Zitao doesn’t push him. He lets Sehun take control for once, and the only thing he does is smile against Sehun’s lips.
“I want you to teach me how to feel.”
PART 2