What Doesn't Kill You Side Story: Yesung
Title: What Doesn't Kill You: Yesung's Story
Chapter 6
Side Story: Siwon
Side Story: Hangeng
Character Profiles
---
Jongwoon was sixteen and socially awkward.
Well, he’d been socially awkward before sixteen, of course. He’d always been a bit different. He hid in his closet under a pile of clothes reading zoology textbooks throughout most of primary school. He didn’t play with other kids because they thought he was weird and didn’t understand why when they tried to scare him with worms and other bugs he’d be fascinated rather than horrified.
It was needless to say he had no friends and very few people he could even call “acquaintances”.
It was at age sixteen that Yesung hit puberty and he was no longer just a socially awkward boy who liked bugs. He was a socially awkward boy who liked bugs and had acne.
His only redeeming feature at that point was his intelligence. It didn’t take long for the other students in his new high school classes to catch wind of the desperation for companionship rolling off of him in waves. They used this to their advantage, pretending to befriend him to get help on homework.
He knew they didn’t really like him. It hurt, especially the first time he’d been getting dressed for gym in one of the bathroom stalls-he didn’t like changing in front of the other boys-and overheard one of his friends talking about how weird he was for touching people’s philtrums and liking honors biology class.
He grew numb to it because as much as it hurt, he was unable to deny that he needed their companionship nonetheless. Human beings are social creatures. If he kept himself holed up forever he’d certainly go mad. He didn’t want to become some kind of creepy serial killer like he was certain most of his class assumed he would be one day.
About three months after his sixteenth birthday his voice began changing. It cracked and it was embarrassing. It also made singing in the choir at church near impossible. What if his voice sounded bad when it was finally done changing? His singing had been his only talent!
It was during one of his moping sessions, curled up under a pile of old coats-once he’d hit puberty, body odor had gotten crazy so hiding under a pile of dirty clothes wasn’t an enjoyable experience anymore-that he began to feel…off.
It wasn’t a normal “I think I’m getting sick” feeling. It was a tightening of his chest, a gripping wave of wrong that was unlike anything he’d ever experienced-and he’d had the chickenpox and double pneumonia as a child so he was rather certain he knew what sick felt like.
He decided that the best thing to do was go get a drink of orange juice and take a nap until his parents got home from work.
He got halfway down the stairs before he blacked out.
---
“…fell down the stairs?”
“….hip….br…oke…”
Jongwoon blinked wearily. What was going on? And why did his body feel so heavy? He tried to turn over but felt a pressure on his shoulder, pushing him onto his back.
“…pull out IV if you…”
Why were the voices so weird? Had there been some kind of mold problem in his closet? Maybe he’d begun hallucinating. He had to be, because when he opened his eyes there was a man in a labcoat standing over him.
Hallucinogenic mold…or aliens. Those were his two conclusions. He blacked out again before he could question it any further.
When he woke up a second time he found that he was a bit more in control of his body. He turned his head and looked around. He was laying on a hospital cot in a large room full of medical equipment. He wanted to say it was a hospital but it looked too…lab-like.
He tried to sit up but a wave of pain shot up his leg and he let out a small cry, falling back against the pillows. The pain subsided into a soft throb at his hip. What had happened? His attention span shifted from why he was there to the door on the far side of the room that had opened to reveal a man in a lab coat. Was it the same one from when he’d woken up the first time? He didn’t remember. He hadn’t gotten a good look at him.
“So you’re awake.”
“Ah…” Jongwoon coughed, his voice cracking with a lack of moisture rather than puberty this time. He swallowed and tried again. “Yes.”
The scientist/doctor/mold-induced hallucination nodded curtly and scribbled something on his clipboard. “Well you can’t walk yet but someone will come in to move you to the dorms by the end of the afternoon.”
Dorms? “What’s going on?”
“That information will be given to you at a later time.” The scientist replied before writing something else. “Are you hungry?”
“…um…” Jongwoon was very confused. “Yes?”
“Something will be brought for you.” The scientist walked out of the room without another word, leaving Jongwoon to stare at the closed door in his wake.
---
His name was Kim Heechul and he had red hair and a perfect philtrum.
If Jongwoon hadn’t been bedridden he would have reached over and tried to touch it.
“Heechul-ssi, this is Kim Jongwoon. He’ll be living in your room from now on.” The man that had wheeled Jongwoon into the room didn’t seem comfortable around the red-head. He fidgeted from behind the rolling cot, latex-covered hands tight on the frame.
Heechul didn’t seem bothered by the man’s demeanor. He turned to Jongwoon. “What’s your power?”
“Huh?”
“Ah, Heechul-ssi, his power hasn’t awoken and no one’s explained the details of why he’s here yet…” The man trailed off at Heechul’s level glare.
“So it’s my job now?” Heechul snapped, before rolling his eyes. “Whatever. Get out.” The man did so gladly, and Jongwoon swallowed. He looked up through the fringe of his bangs to look at the other boy. He couldn’t have been much older than Jongwoon himself. His skin was pale and his face was feminine. Pretty.
Scary.
He was wearing a pair of black leather gloves and fiddling with a book in his lap. Heechul had gone back to his book the moment the man had left. The silence stretched, and Jongwoon wished he could move. If he did so he’d at least be able to get out of the room and find someone who would answer his questions.
He had a lot of questions.
Heechul closed his book with a brisk snap, placing it down on the bed before standing. He walked over to the table at the center of the room and stopped. “Because you can’t walk you can just call someone to get you food. Here.” Heechul grabbed the phone from atop the table and placed it at the foot of Jongwoon’s bed where he could reach it, careful not to trip over the chord as he did so.
“Um…why am I here?” Jongwoon asked softly, a little afraid to ask. Even if the other boy didn’t seem much older he had the air of someone superior.
Heechul looked annoyed at the question but answered anyway. “You contracted GAM.”
GAM? The virus? But he’d survived and no one lived after getting GAM. Heechul seemed to know what Jongwoon was thinking because he continued. “GAM is only fatal for the people that can’t handle the genetic change.”
Genetic change? What was he talking about?
“You’re different now. Genetically. You can’t tell yet but it won’t be much longer.”
Heechul had sat back down on his own bed, grabbing for his book.
“I don’t understand.” Jongwoon shook his head in confusion. “What are you talking about? How did I change? Where is my family?”
Heechul eyed him for a few moments. Then he walked back toward the table where the phone had been and took off one of his gloves. “Because of GAM you now have an ability. A gift. Yours hasn’t shown up yet.”
Jongwoon stared. Was he still hallucinating? That had to be it. “Like a superpower?” That would be cool, if it were humanly possible. But it wasn’t, and Yesung supposed that there were enough socially awkward nerds gaining superpowers in comics that the world didn’t need another one.
Heechul merely placed his hand on the desk.
If Jongwoon could have moved he would have jumped backwards. The spot where Heechul’s fingerprints brushed against the wood began changing, turning black. And then it began falling away, drifting to the floor in a pile of ashes as the hole widened and began consuming the rest of the wood, eating away at it.
The metal hinges rusted and joined the rest of the dust in a pile on the floor.
Heechul put his glove back on and stared down at what he’d done. He spoke, not looking at Jongwoon. “I don’t know where your family is, but unless they contracted GAM too than they’re still alive, living normally.”
But wouldn’t they coming looking for him? Jongwoon was shocked, still terrified by what Heechul had just done, but a part of him had already decided that all of this was a hallucination and if that were the case than someone making a table disintegrate was normal, right?
Heechul seemed to read the question in Jongwoon’s gaze as he glanced up at him, face expressionless. “Your family won’t come looking for you because they think you’re dead.”
Dead? No, that wasn’t possible. None of this was possible. He was going to wake up soon and it would all be a dream.
The door to the dorm room opened and a young child bounced inside. He looked to be around eleven or twelve, with wild brown hair and a pokemon t-shirt. “Hyung, I’m hungry!”
Heechul grunted, turning his attention from Jongwoon to the boy. “You’re always hungry.”
The boy didn’t argue with that, but merely looked at Jongwoon and seemed to notice him for the first time.
The younger boy looked on curiously, before giving a bright smile. “Hi! My name is Lee Donghae and I can turn into a goldfish.” That was possibly the oddest introduction he’d ever been given. If he hadn’t been so shocked over seeing Heechul disintegrate a table with his hands he would have been surprised. As it were he just nodded dumbly, still staring at the pile of ash on the floor.
Heechul followed Jongwoon’s shocked gaze before giving a small smirk. “Come on Donghae, let’s go. Typhoon wanted me to eat with him.”
---
It was several weeks before Jongwoon could walk again, and during the time where he was bedridden he had plenty of time to think.
Think about what Heechul had told him about GAM and what Instructor Hong (he’d met him the second day) had told him about his place in the GAM Project.
It took a while to get used to living in the dorms, but he felt that he adjusted rather well. He supposed it was his lack of an attachment to anything in his old life. The only thing he missed fleetingly were his parents.
He wondered if that made him a bad person because he never had a desire to leave like some others did. Donghae had told him that he thought about leaving sometimes. The others mentioned it briefly too. Only Heechul never spoke about returning. Did that mean Jongwoon was more like Heechul, then? He didn’t know if that should be comforting or not.
The “others” consisted of people that sat with them at lunch. None of them made much of an effort to get to know Jongwoon and he supposed that he shouldn’t have expected that to change. Just because people now had special powers didn’t mean that they’d accept someone they would have normally thought was weird.
Sometimes he thought that Heechul only tolerated him because they lived in the same room. Donghae was genuinely nice to him, but Donghae was genuinely nice to everyone. The only person that Heechul seemed to like was Donghae, whom he cared for like a mother doting upon their child. It was frightening to think about how protective and caring Heechul could be to the younger boy.
The only other person that Heechul was remotely kind to was Typhoon, but Jongwoon figured that it was more Typhoon ignoring Heechul’s abrasiveness. Typhoon seemed good at deflecting Heechul’s mood swings. Jongwoon sometimes wondered if that was his gift, but he knew that if that were the truth, his nickname would have been Soothesayer or BitchCalmer or something else besides Typhoon.
Typhoon was one of the originals along with Heechul, the first members of the GAM project. Jongwoon figured that had something to do with why Typhoon didn’t mind Heechul yelling at him and stealing his food and why Heechul didn’t mind Typhoon’s teasing and the occasional “girlfriend” that he added to the end of Heechul’s name.
Walking was difficult at first, because once he’d been weaned off of his pain medication every step was painful. Donghae had suggested he could turn into a horse and carry Jongwoon around but Heechul had stopped that plan before it had begun, saying that Jongwoon’s hip would heal incorrectly if they did that and then he’d walk with a limp for the rest of his life.
That had scared both Donghae and Jongwoon, so they hadn’t brought the idea up again.
It was also around this time that Jongwoon had gotten his first nickname. Not his first, he supposed, but he didn’t like to remember the childhood taunts from the other school children in his past. He’d been singing in the shower and Donghae had popped in, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.
“Hyung…hyung has a really pretty voice!”
And so he’d been called Yesung.
It caught on-“Because Jongwoon is too common, it’s easier to remember Yesung,” Heechul had defended-and soon everyone called him that. He hadn’t known what to do except cry in the shower as Donghae patted him on the back awkwardly and asked what was wrong.
But how could he tell him that he wasn’t crying because he was sad, but because he’d finally been accepted?
---
Even though he’d been “accepted” Yesung could tell that most everyone thought he was weird. He supposed it had something to do with randomly touching people’s philtrums. But didn’t people know that a longer philtrum meant a longer, healthier life? It was only natural that Yesung wanted to compare.
It was hard, knowing that even here where everyone was “different” he was still an outsider. Donghae was kind to him, and sometimes Yesung thought that maybe Heechul was his friend too. He’d heard Heechul yelling at someone who had made fun of him once, but he’d assumed it was a coincidence.
And the only reason that Heechul gave Yesung his extra kimchee and rice was because he was on a diet.
Donghae had gone off to train, and Heechul hadn’t felt like sitting in the crowded cafeteria so Yesung had found himself dragged along with Heechul back to their dorm room after picking up their food.
The silence was uncomfortable as Heechul shoveled rice into his mouth and didn’t look up from his plate. If Heechul was uncomfortable with this than why had he asked Yesung to eat with him? Couldn’t he have gone and found Typhoon or someone else?
“Eat your food, idiot.”
Yesung blinked, only then realizing that he’d been staring and Heechul had caught him doing so. Heechul rolled his eyes and went back to his food.
“Why doesn’t hyung have a nickname like everyone else?”
Heechul raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“About your power. I mean, everyone has a nickname related to their power. Like Typhoon…and people call Donghae Fishy…”
Heechul scoffed. “Nicknames like that are stupid.”
“But you have one, right?”
Heechul pursed his lips and reached out, poking Yesung in the chest with a chopstick. “I do, but it’s stupid so no one uses it.”
“What is it?”
“Why would I tell you?”
Ah, right. Why would he tell someone like Yesung? They weren’t even friends. Yesung’s smile fell and he looked down at his food. “…sorry for asking.”
Another poke, and Yesung looked up to see Heechul glaring at him in mild annoyance. “I didn’t mean it like that, idiot. Aish.” He then went back to eating.
Yesung stared for a few moments. Heechul had…what did he mean by that? Yesung swallowed. Were they friends now? Was that what he’d meant? A tight, odd feeling began in his chest. “…hyung?”
“What is it?” Heechul looked up briefly, just as Yesung leaned forward and pressed his finger above Heechul’s lips.
There was a moment of silence, as Yesung saw Heechul pale before he jerked away, slapping Yesung’s hand from his face. “What the hell are you doing!?”
Yesung almost fell out of his own seat in shock, before Heechul had stood, visibly shaking in anger. “I asked what the hell you were thinking!”
Yesung swallowed, throat constricting painfully. He hadn’t meant to do it. He hadn’t meant to make Heechul angry. Why hadn’t he realized that Heechul didn’t want him to touch him? He should have known better than to do something like that. God he was stupid. Heechul probably hated him now. Really hated him.
“I just…” Yesung trailed off in tears. “Yours is longer.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Heechul blinked, a little color slipping back into his face. He gave a small snort before running a hand through his hair. “Of course it’s longer. I’m perfect, remember. Aish, ask next time.” His voice shook a bit.
“I-I’m sorry.” It really was pathetic for a sixteen year old boy to be sobbing over being yelled at. But the look on Heechul’s face had been terrifying-years later he would realize it had been fear in his eyes, not anger.
Heechul swallowed, sitting back down. He reached for his chopsticks. “…eat your food.” He whispered roughly.
So did Heechul hate him still? Or didn’t he? Yesung continued sniffling, trying not to cry loudly as Heechul continued eating. The older boy would probably yell at him if he started blubbering like an idiot. Too late for that.
He stared down at his rice, willing himself not to cry. A piece of pork was placed in his bowl and he blinked, looking up to see that Heechul was still eating silently, avidly interested in his own bowl. Yesung swallowed, before he let out a small, choked sob.
Heechul sighed. “Idiot, you cry over everything, don’t you?”
Yesung merely smiled through his tears and happily chewed his pork.
---
Typhoon was trying to feed Heechul rice and Donghae was pouting.
Yesung poked at his ramen and watched the interactions out of the corner of his eye. He wasn’t looking forward to the end of lunch for the simple reason that it meant training. Training involved going to the gym and running laps and lifting weights.
Yesung didn’t particularly like doing any of those things.
He let out a soft sigh as he slurped up a mouthful of noodles.
“Hyung, I want some!” Donghae whined, and Heechul rolled his eyes, trying to smack Typhoon’s chopsticks away. “Give it to Donghae, I’m not hungry.”
“Aish, girlfriend is so picky. Are you on a diet?” Typhoon teased, but Heechul ignored him, even as Donghae leaned forward and opened his mouth like a baby bird waiting to be fed.
Yesung bit the inside of his cheek and stared at the table before he leaned forward and flicked a piece of rice off of the corner, aiming at the clock on the wall.
The clock cracked and fell to the ground with a loud crash.
Yesung blinked, sitting up from his slouch. The cafeteria had gone relatively quiet by that point as Yesung stared down at his hand and then back at the clock on the floor. “…I didn’t mean to.” He finally murmured, turning to Heechul. “I didn’t mean to break the clock, hyung.”
Heechul merely stood, “Come on Yesung, let’s go.” He grabbed Yesung’s wrist and tugged him to his feet. Yesung stumbled, nearly tripping as Heechul said something back to Typhoon and the others but he wasn’t paying much attention to the details.
He wasn’t going to get in trouble for breaking the clock, right?
---
With his power came a new nickname: Sniper. Yesung liked the nickname Yesung better. Sniper sounded cliched and well, kind of lame. It would be cool if he were ten, which was why Donghae thought it was the coolest nickname in the world.
The week after his power had appeared had been spent in various labs trying to discover the limitations of his gift. It wasn’t hard to understand, he could turn anything into a bullet, although smaller objects were the easiest to aim.
He carried around an odd assortment of junk: a button that had fallen off of his coat, some loose change, a few cough drops. Circular items were easier to shoot but he figured that this was probably just a mental thing.
Gaining his power had been welcome. Now he wasn’t the odd boy out again. He was like everyone else.
Better, Heechul told him, because his power was really useful.
Cooler, Donghae told him, because really, what an awesome power!
Yesung just liked that he was included.
There was something gratifying at being able to hit anything that he set his eyes on. The satisfying thud that came as the “bullet” hit the bulls-eye was music to his ears. He spent hours at the shooting range just because he enjoyed hitting a target that no one else could hit. Being useful and accepted had always been important to him, and this gift brought him one step closer.
---
Two weeks after his power had appeared they gave him a puppy. He named her Kkoming and they let her sleep in the dorm room. Heechul didn’t even complain about the barking, he just ignored her and put in a pair of ear plugs and read his book.
Donghae had one too, a little dog that he named Bada. They didn’t give Heechul a pet and Yesung assumed it was because they didn’t think he’d be able to take care of it. When he’d told Donghae this the other boy had started laughing and teased him.
They’d told Typhoon and Typhoon had given a sharp smile and told them not to say anything to Heechul if they wanted to live.
Yesung really liked living, so he’d decided that was probably for the best. Donghae, however, was under the impression that being Heechul’s favorite made him immune to Heechul’s wrath or immortal or something.
“You want to pet Bada, hyung?” Donghae sat on his own bed with the puppy jumping around and yipping.
Heechul pulled out one of his ear plugs and eyed the dog with disinterest. “I’ll pass.” He went back to reading.
“Hyung is always reading.” Donghae pouted.
“I have a mission tomorrow, idiot. I have to look over some things.” Heechul responded, eyes never leaving the pages.
Donghae turned to where Yesung sat with Kkoming. “Isn’t it great hyung? One day we’ll go on missions like Heechul hyung!”
Yesung nodded. Actually, he’d been envious every time he’d seen Heechul and Typhoon head out on a job and leave them behind. Donghae was too young and Yesung’s power hadn’t appeared but that would change now, wouldn’t it?
“Bada, you want to play with hyung, don’t you? Do you want to give him kisses?”
“Idiot, don’t get the dog anywhere near me.” Heechul snapped, “Especially not my face. They’re disgusting!”
“Come on hyung, it’s just a puppy! And she’s cute. Come ooooon.” Donghae had grabbed Bada and was inching toward the other man, the puppy wriggling in his grip.
“I don’t want to pet it!” Heechul snapped, and Bada gave a soft whine. Heechul grabbed his papers and hopped off of his bed, storming to the door.
“Where are you going?” Donghae asked worriedly, scared that he’d made Heechul so angry.
“Typhoon’s room.” Heechul ground out, and the door closed behind him with a definite click.
Yesung stared at the door and then turned to Donghae. The other boy had begun to cry, holding Bada close to his chest. Kkoming had begun crawling up Yesung’s shirt and her nose was cold on his stomach but he didn’t pay her any attention.
“Donghae he didn’t…”
“He’s mad at me!” Donghae hiccupped. “I just wanted him to pet her. I just thought that h-hyung wanted to. Sometimes he looks like he wants to but he s-stops so I thought m-maybe I could just…”
Yesung leaned over and patted Donghae awkwardly on the shoulder. “It’s not your fault. Hyung has been cranky lately.” He’d have to tell Heechul later that he’d overreacted and hurt Donghae’s feelings.
---
Yesung didn’t actually tell Heechul later that he’d overreacted. Lecturing Heechul was a death sentence and Yesung liked to believe he had a moderate level of self preservation. He didn’t have to, anyway, because Heechul came back later that night with a box of chocopies and placed them on Donghae’s bed and told him that he couldn’t give any to Bada because chocolate was bad for dogs.
Just like that the situation seemed to deflate.
Heechul refused to get any closer to the dogs or to touch them however. He snapped when anyone mentioned them and when Yesung and Donghae returned from training and played with them, he always left to hang out with Typhoon.
Yesung didn’t understand why Heechul hated them so much.
That was, until a month after they’d been given Bada and Kkoming.
Heechul was out on a mission with Typhoon and some of the others and Donghae and Yesung had finished training early. The instructors had told them all to go back to their rooms after lunch and wait. They didn’t know what for, but Donghae and Yesung had decided that maybe they would begin mission training.
Yesung sighed, picking up Kkoming and holding her in his lap. “Do you think they’ll put us on the same team as hyung?”
“Of course! That’s what the dorm rooms are for.” Donghae announced confidently. “I heard Instructor Cho talking about it. The only reason hyung is with Typhoon is because we haven’t started training yet.”
“Really?” Yesung perked up. He’d been worried that they might get put with different people. But if they were with Heechul then it would be alright. He’d been worried for nothing.
The door opened and Instructor Hong walked in, his expression neutral. “Jongwoon, come with me.”
Yesung nodded slowly, standing, picking up Kkoming and placing her on the comforter, but paused when Instructor Hong looked up from his clipboard, “Bring your dog.” Yesung hesitated, before he scooped Kkoming up and shot Donghae an inquisitive glance. Donghae shrugged, picking up Bada and holding her to his chest.
“Instructor Cho will be here soon, Donghae.” Instructor Hong announced before opening the door. “Come, Jongwoon.”
---
Instructor Hong led Yesung to a plain white room with no windows. The only thing in it was a folded steel chair that Instructor Hong set up and settled upon. He scribbled something on his clipboard before he looked up, noticing that Yesung was staring at him awkwardly.
“Let your dog down.”
Yesung pursed his lips, but did as he was told. Kkoming was wriggling in his arms to be set free. The moment her paws hit the tile she let out a happy yip and began running around, tail wagging.
Instructor Hong pulled out a rubber ball and rolled it across the floor. When Kkoming spotted it she rushed forward. The ball was almost the same size as she was and she tumbled over it, twisting onto her belly before managing to get upright, going after it again.
Yesung grinned as he watched, grabbing the ball and bouncing it in the opposite direction, watching as she went after it.
“Jongwoon, here.” Instructor Hong held out his hand, and in his palm was a small dice. Yesung picked it up hesitantly, unsure what it was for.
“Now kill it.”
Yesung blinked, shocked. “…what?”
“Kill it.” Instructor Hong repeated tartly. “The dog. Kill it.” He motioned toward Kkoming who was happily chasing the red ball.
Surely this was a joke. Kill Kkoming? Why would he do something like that?
“This is part of your test, Kim Jongwoon.” Instructor Hong continued, his voice sharp. “Now shoot the dog.”
He was serious. Yesung shook his head, taking a step back. “I can’t.”
“Kill the dog, Jongwoon.”
Kkoming let out another happy bark, stumbling over the ball again. She began running and her tiny claws skidded on the tiles. She fell before pushing back to her feet and going after her toy.
He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. Why would Instructor Hong tell him to kill Kkoming? Kkoming hadn’t done anything wrong. She was just a little puppy. His eyes began to burn and he wanted to run away. He needed to get away right now.
Instructor Hong looked angry.
Yesung let out a shaky breath, then another, and when he inhaled he choked and soon he was sobbing, “Don’t make me.”
“Do it.”
“P-please don’t. Please don’t make me do it.”
“Kill it now.”
“I can’t.” Yesung shook his head, taking another step back. Instructor Hong grabbed his arm and held him in place.
“DO IT!”
“STOP!” Yesung pulled back, trying to get free. Kkoming had noticed that they were yelling and had turned. Get away, get away, get away! He screamed silently.
“KILL IT NOW!”
He shot.
Kkoming only let out a small whimper before she collapsed, slipping to the floor with a soft thump.
“Noooo nononono.” Yesung slumped to the ground, hand over his mouth. He felt like puking.
He crawled over the few feet toward her and slowly picked the puppy up. She’d gotten bigger over the few months, but she still fit easily in his lap. She was still warm, and he could feel the blood from the wound soaking into his lap.
“I’m sorry.” He coughed, and there was snot slipping out of his nose and tears running down his cheeks but he didn’t care. He’d just killed Kkoming. He’d gotten scared and there’d been so much yelling and…and how could he have done that? How could he have been such a horrible person?
“K-kkoming…” He folded in on himself, doubling over her tiny frame, clutching her as tightly to his chest as possible. “I’m sorry ‘msorrysosorryplease…”
The door opened and closed, and Yesung was barely aware of the fact that Instructor Hong had left, or that the lights had been turned out. He didn’t know how long he stayed there except that when the door opened again, the blood on his arms had dried and begun to flake off.
The light was turned on, but he was still hunched over, hair in his eyes, so the bright light didn’t sting.
“Come on Yesung.” Gloved hands brushed against his arms.
Yesung tightened his grip on Kkoming. “…did you know…?” He whispered brokenly. “Did you know they’d do this?”
Heechul didn’t answer, he simply sat down beside him.
Yesung turned abruptly, bangs sticking to his cheeks from the tears. He brushed them aside roughly and glared, feeling fresh tears at the corners of his eyes. “You knew and you didn’t tell me! How could you do that?”
“What would you have done?” Heechul asked simply, and even then there was a condescending tone, but it was soft, hidden, because it looked like he hadn’t meant it to come out that way. “If I’d told you that they’d make you kill the puppy, what would you have done?”
“I would have told them to s-stop. I wouldn’t have t-taken c-care of her. I-I’d-”
“They would have given her to someone else and they would have killed her.” Heechul answered smoothly. He was looking at the wall, at the small blood spatter that painted the white tile. “And you would have been punished for disobeying orders.”
“I don’t care.” Yesung replied hotly.
“They would have killed you if you didn’t listen.” Heechul’s voice was cold, to-the-point, but it wasn’t cruel. It was brutally honest, a warning, oddly kind.
Yesung didn’t say anything. He merely pressed his face into Kkoming’s fur and screamed.
“We can’t bury her, but I brought this.” Something was pressed against Yesung’s leg. He sniffled, brushing his sleeve along his nose and knowing that some of the not-fully dried blood was now smeared across his face.
It was a small china pot. It looked like it belonged to a tea set.
“It’s kind of like an urn.” Heechul defended upon receiving Yesung’s confused stare. He rolled his eyes as Yesung merely continued to stare numbly. “Geeze, you don’t understand anything do you?” He lifted the dog out of Yesung’s lap with one hand, slipping off the glove of his other in one swift movement.
“No!” Yesung began, but Heechul hesitantly ran his hand over Kkoming’s head, a gentle pat before her fur turned to dust. Yesung didn’t want to watch, but he couldn’t look away as his puppy slowly became a pile of ashes.
Heechul swallowed, slipping on his glove again. “…her fur was soft…” He seemed to realize what he’d said a moment later and turned away with a soft sniff, reaching for the china pot. “Here, help me put the ashes in.”
Yesung leaned forward, but he was afraid to touch them. He watched as Heechul scooped up a handful and gently placed it inside the pot, fingers shaky ever so slightly. Yesung’s eyes followed Heechul’s gloved fingers, the black leather covered in a layer of gray dust as he painstakingly collected every last bit of ash and placed it inside. He put the lid on with a soft click and pushed it across the floor to Yesung. “Here. Come on, let’s go sleep.”
“I don’t…” Yesung trailed off, unsure if he was going to cry or throw up.
“You need to sleep. It’s late.” Heechul had stood. “Someone will come in and clean everything up.” The blood. The evidence that it had happened at all. Heechul eyed Yesung. “…you need to take a shower first.”
Yesung managed to stand, hands curling around the cool surface of the pot. “…I didn’t mean to do it, hyung.” His voice caught in the back of his throat, sticking. “I didn’t. I didn’t mean to.”
“I know.” Heechul replied softly. “It was an accident.” As if he were telling a young child not to be afraid of a monster under the bed. Mommy will check and everything will be ok.
Except that everything wouldn’t be ok.
Because the monster under the bed was him, and Heechul couldn’t protect him from himself.
Chapter 6
Side Story: Siwon
Side Story: Hangeng
Character Profiles
---
Jongwoon was sixteen and socially awkward.
Well, he’d been socially awkward before sixteen, of course. He’d always been a bit different. He hid in his closet under a pile of clothes reading zoology textbooks throughout most of primary school. He didn’t play with other kids because they thought he was weird and didn’t understand why when they tried to scare him with worms and other bugs he’d be fascinated rather than horrified.
It was needless to say he had no friends and very few people he could even call “acquaintances”.
It was at age sixteen that Yesung hit puberty and he was no longer just a socially awkward boy who liked bugs. He was a socially awkward boy who liked bugs and had acne.
His only redeeming feature at that point was his intelligence. It didn’t take long for the other students in his new high school classes to catch wind of the desperation for companionship rolling off of him in waves. They used this to their advantage, pretending to befriend him to get help on homework.
He knew they didn’t really like him. It hurt, especially the first time he’d been getting dressed for gym in one of the bathroom stalls-he didn’t like changing in front of the other boys-and overheard one of his friends talking about how weird he was for touching people’s philtrums and liking honors biology class.
He grew numb to it because as much as it hurt, he was unable to deny that he needed their companionship nonetheless. Human beings are social creatures. If he kept himself holed up forever he’d certainly go mad. He didn’t want to become some kind of creepy serial killer like he was certain most of his class assumed he would be one day.
About three months after his sixteenth birthday his voice began changing. It cracked and it was embarrassing. It also made singing in the choir at church near impossible. What if his voice sounded bad when it was finally done changing? His singing had been his only talent!
It was during one of his moping sessions, curled up under a pile of old coats-once he’d hit puberty, body odor had gotten crazy so hiding under a pile of dirty clothes wasn’t an enjoyable experience anymore-that he began to feel…off.
It wasn’t a normal “I think I’m getting sick” feeling. It was a tightening of his chest, a gripping wave of wrong that was unlike anything he’d ever experienced-and he’d had the chickenpox and double pneumonia as a child so he was rather certain he knew what sick felt like.
He decided that the best thing to do was go get a drink of orange juice and take a nap until his parents got home from work.
He got halfway down the stairs before he blacked out.
---
“…fell down the stairs?”
“….hip….br…oke…”
Jongwoon blinked wearily. What was going on? And why did his body feel so heavy? He tried to turn over but felt a pressure on his shoulder, pushing him onto his back.
“…pull out IV if you…”
Why were the voices so weird? Had there been some kind of mold problem in his closet? Maybe he’d begun hallucinating. He had to be, because when he opened his eyes there was a man in a labcoat standing over him.
Hallucinogenic mold…or aliens. Those were his two conclusions. He blacked out again before he could question it any further.
When he woke up a second time he found that he was a bit more in control of his body. He turned his head and looked around. He was laying on a hospital cot in a large room full of medical equipment. He wanted to say it was a hospital but it looked too…lab-like.
He tried to sit up but a wave of pain shot up his leg and he let out a small cry, falling back against the pillows. The pain subsided into a soft throb at his hip. What had happened? His attention span shifted from why he was there to the door on the far side of the room that had opened to reveal a man in a lab coat. Was it the same one from when he’d woken up the first time? He didn’t remember. He hadn’t gotten a good look at him.
“So you’re awake.”
“Ah…” Jongwoon coughed, his voice cracking with a lack of moisture rather than puberty this time. He swallowed and tried again. “Yes.”
The scientist/doctor/mold-induced hallucination nodded curtly and scribbled something on his clipboard. “Well you can’t walk yet but someone will come in to move you to the dorms by the end of the afternoon.”
Dorms? “What’s going on?”
“That information will be given to you at a later time.” The scientist replied before writing something else. “Are you hungry?”
“…um…” Jongwoon was very confused. “Yes?”
“Something will be brought for you.” The scientist walked out of the room without another word, leaving Jongwoon to stare at the closed door in his wake.
---
His name was Kim Heechul and he had red hair and a perfect philtrum.
If Jongwoon hadn’t been bedridden he would have reached over and tried to touch it.
“Heechul-ssi, this is Kim Jongwoon. He’ll be living in your room from now on.” The man that had wheeled Jongwoon into the room didn’t seem comfortable around the red-head. He fidgeted from behind the rolling cot, latex-covered hands tight on the frame.
Heechul didn’t seem bothered by the man’s demeanor. He turned to Jongwoon. “What’s your power?”
“Huh?”
“Ah, Heechul-ssi, his power hasn’t awoken and no one’s explained the details of why he’s here yet…” The man trailed off at Heechul’s level glare.
“So it’s my job now?” Heechul snapped, before rolling his eyes. “Whatever. Get out.” The man did so gladly, and Jongwoon swallowed. He looked up through the fringe of his bangs to look at the other boy. He couldn’t have been much older than Jongwoon himself. His skin was pale and his face was feminine. Pretty.
Scary.
He was wearing a pair of black leather gloves and fiddling with a book in his lap. Heechul had gone back to his book the moment the man had left. The silence stretched, and Jongwoon wished he could move. If he did so he’d at least be able to get out of the room and find someone who would answer his questions.
He had a lot of questions.
Heechul closed his book with a brisk snap, placing it down on the bed before standing. He walked over to the table at the center of the room and stopped. “Because you can’t walk you can just call someone to get you food. Here.” Heechul grabbed the phone from atop the table and placed it at the foot of Jongwoon’s bed where he could reach it, careful not to trip over the chord as he did so.
“Um…why am I here?” Jongwoon asked softly, a little afraid to ask. Even if the other boy didn’t seem much older he had the air of someone superior.
Heechul looked annoyed at the question but answered anyway. “You contracted GAM.”
GAM? The virus? But he’d survived and no one lived after getting GAM. Heechul seemed to know what Jongwoon was thinking because he continued. “GAM is only fatal for the people that can’t handle the genetic change.”
Genetic change? What was he talking about?
“You’re different now. Genetically. You can’t tell yet but it won’t be much longer.”
Heechul had sat back down on his own bed, grabbing for his book.
“I don’t understand.” Jongwoon shook his head in confusion. “What are you talking about? How did I change? Where is my family?”
Heechul eyed him for a few moments. Then he walked back toward the table where the phone had been and took off one of his gloves. “Because of GAM you now have an ability. A gift. Yours hasn’t shown up yet.”
Jongwoon stared. Was he still hallucinating? That had to be it. “Like a superpower?” That would be cool, if it were humanly possible. But it wasn’t, and Yesung supposed that there were enough socially awkward nerds gaining superpowers in comics that the world didn’t need another one.
Heechul merely placed his hand on the desk.
If Jongwoon could have moved he would have jumped backwards. The spot where Heechul’s fingerprints brushed against the wood began changing, turning black. And then it began falling away, drifting to the floor in a pile of ashes as the hole widened and began consuming the rest of the wood, eating away at it.
The metal hinges rusted and joined the rest of the dust in a pile on the floor.
Heechul put his glove back on and stared down at what he’d done. He spoke, not looking at Jongwoon. “I don’t know where your family is, but unless they contracted GAM too than they’re still alive, living normally.”
But wouldn’t they coming looking for him? Jongwoon was shocked, still terrified by what Heechul had just done, but a part of him had already decided that all of this was a hallucination and if that were the case than someone making a table disintegrate was normal, right?
Heechul seemed to read the question in Jongwoon’s gaze as he glanced up at him, face expressionless. “Your family won’t come looking for you because they think you’re dead.”
Dead? No, that wasn’t possible. None of this was possible. He was going to wake up soon and it would all be a dream.
The door to the dorm room opened and a young child bounced inside. He looked to be around eleven or twelve, with wild brown hair and a pokemon t-shirt. “Hyung, I’m hungry!”
Heechul grunted, turning his attention from Jongwoon to the boy. “You’re always hungry.”
The boy didn’t argue with that, but merely looked at Jongwoon and seemed to notice him for the first time.
The younger boy looked on curiously, before giving a bright smile. “Hi! My name is Lee Donghae and I can turn into a goldfish.” That was possibly the oddest introduction he’d ever been given. If he hadn’t been so shocked over seeing Heechul disintegrate a table with his hands he would have been surprised. As it were he just nodded dumbly, still staring at the pile of ash on the floor.
Heechul followed Jongwoon’s shocked gaze before giving a small smirk. “Come on Donghae, let’s go. Typhoon wanted me to eat with him.”
---
It was several weeks before Jongwoon could walk again, and during the time where he was bedridden he had plenty of time to think.
Think about what Heechul had told him about GAM and what Instructor Hong (he’d met him the second day) had told him about his place in the GAM Project.
It took a while to get used to living in the dorms, but he felt that he adjusted rather well. He supposed it was his lack of an attachment to anything in his old life. The only thing he missed fleetingly were his parents.
He wondered if that made him a bad person because he never had a desire to leave like some others did. Donghae had told him that he thought about leaving sometimes. The others mentioned it briefly too. Only Heechul never spoke about returning. Did that mean Jongwoon was more like Heechul, then? He didn’t know if that should be comforting or not.
The “others” consisted of people that sat with them at lunch. None of them made much of an effort to get to know Jongwoon and he supposed that he shouldn’t have expected that to change. Just because people now had special powers didn’t mean that they’d accept someone they would have normally thought was weird.
Sometimes he thought that Heechul only tolerated him because they lived in the same room. Donghae was genuinely nice to him, but Donghae was genuinely nice to everyone. The only person that Heechul seemed to like was Donghae, whom he cared for like a mother doting upon their child. It was frightening to think about how protective and caring Heechul could be to the younger boy.
The only other person that Heechul was remotely kind to was Typhoon, but Jongwoon figured that it was more Typhoon ignoring Heechul’s abrasiveness. Typhoon seemed good at deflecting Heechul’s mood swings. Jongwoon sometimes wondered if that was his gift, but he knew that if that were the truth, his nickname would have been Soothesayer or BitchCalmer or something else besides Typhoon.
Typhoon was one of the originals along with Heechul, the first members of the GAM project. Jongwoon figured that had something to do with why Typhoon didn’t mind Heechul yelling at him and stealing his food and why Heechul didn’t mind Typhoon’s teasing and the occasional “girlfriend” that he added to the end of Heechul’s name.
Walking was difficult at first, because once he’d been weaned off of his pain medication every step was painful. Donghae had suggested he could turn into a horse and carry Jongwoon around but Heechul had stopped that plan before it had begun, saying that Jongwoon’s hip would heal incorrectly if they did that and then he’d walk with a limp for the rest of his life.
That had scared both Donghae and Jongwoon, so they hadn’t brought the idea up again.
It was also around this time that Jongwoon had gotten his first nickname. Not his first, he supposed, but he didn’t like to remember the childhood taunts from the other school children in his past. He’d been singing in the shower and Donghae had popped in, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.
“Hyung…hyung has a really pretty voice!”
And so he’d been called Yesung.
It caught on-“Because Jongwoon is too common, it’s easier to remember Yesung,” Heechul had defended-and soon everyone called him that. He hadn’t known what to do except cry in the shower as Donghae patted him on the back awkwardly and asked what was wrong.
But how could he tell him that he wasn’t crying because he was sad, but because he’d finally been accepted?
---
Even though he’d been “accepted” Yesung could tell that most everyone thought he was weird. He supposed it had something to do with randomly touching people’s philtrums. But didn’t people know that a longer philtrum meant a longer, healthier life? It was only natural that Yesung wanted to compare.
It was hard, knowing that even here where everyone was “different” he was still an outsider. Donghae was kind to him, and sometimes Yesung thought that maybe Heechul was his friend too. He’d heard Heechul yelling at someone who had made fun of him once, but he’d assumed it was a coincidence.
And the only reason that Heechul gave Yesung his extra kimchee and rice was because he was on a diet.
Donghae had gone off to train, and Heechul hadn’t felt like sitting in the crowded cafeteria so Yesung had found himself dragged along with Heechul back to their dorm room after picking up their food.
The silence was uncomfortable as Heechul shoveled rice into his mouth and didn’t look up from his plate. If Heechul was uncomfortable with this than why had he asked Yesung to eat with him? Couldn’t he have gone and found Typhoon or someone else?
“Eat your food, idiot.”
Yesung blinked, only then realizing that he’d been staring and Heechul had caught him doing so. Heechul rolled his eyes and went back to his food.
“Why doesn’t hyung have a nickname like everyone else?”
Heechul raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“About your power. I mean, everyone has a nickname related to their power. Like Typhoon…and people call Donghae Fishy…”
Heechul scoffed. “Nicknames like that are stupid.”
“But you have one, right?”
Heechul pursed his lips and reached out, poking Yesung in the chest with a chopstick. “I do, but it’s stupid so no one uses it.”
“What is it?”
“Why would I tell you?”
Ah, right. Why would he tell someone like Yesung? They weren’t even friends. Yesung’s smile fell and he looked down at his food. “…sorry for asking.”
Another poke, and Yesung looked up to see Heechul glaring at him in mild annoyance. “I didn’t mean it like that, idiot. Aish.” He then went back to eating.
Yesung stared for a few moments. Heechul had…what did he mean by that? Yesung swallowed. Were they friends now? Was that what he’d meant? A tight, odd feeling began in his chest. “…hyung?”
“What is it?” Heechul looked up briefly, just as Yesung leaned forward and pressed his finger above Heechul’s lips.
There was a moment of silence, as Yesung saw Heechul pale before he jerked away, slapping Yesung’s hand from his face. “What the hell are you doing!?”
Yesung almost fell out of his own seat in shock, before Heechul had stood, visibly shaking in anger. “I asked what the hell you were thinking!”
Yesung swallowed, throat constricting painfully. He hadn’t meant to do it. He hadn’t meant to make Heechul angry. Why hadn’t he realized that Heechul didn’t want him to touch him? He should have known better than to do something like that. God he was stupid. Heechul probably hated him now. Really hated him.
“I just…” Yesung trailed off in tears. “Yours is longer.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Heechul blinked, a little color slipping back into his face. He gave a small snort before running a hand through his hair. “Of course it’s longer. I’m perfect, remember. Aish, ask next time.” His voice shook a bit.
“I-I’m sorry.” It really was pathetic for a sixteen year old boy to be sobbing over being yelled at. But the look on Heechul’s face had been terrifying-years later he would realize it had been fear in his eyes, not anger.
Heechul swallowed, sitting back down. He reached for his chopsticks. “…eat your food.” He whispered roughly.
So did Heechul hate him still? Or didn’t he? Yesung continued sniffling, trying not to cry loudly as Heechul continued eating. The older boy would probably yell at him if he started blubbering like an idiot. Too late for that.
He stared down at his rice, willing himself not to cry. A piece of pork was placed in his bowl and he blinked, looking up to see that Heechul was still eating silently, avidly interested in his own bowl. Yesung swallowed, before he let out a small, choked sob.
Heechul sighed. “Idiot, you cry over everything, don’t you?”
Yesung merely smiled through his tears and happily chewed his pork.
---
Typhoon was trying to feed Heechul rice and Donghae was pouting.
Yesung poked at his ramen and watched the interactions out of the corner of his eye. He wasn’t looking forward to the end of lunch for the simple reason that it meant training. Training involved going to the gym and running laps and lifting weights.
Yesung didn’t particularly like doing any of those things.
He let out a soft sigh as he slurped up a mouthful of noodles.
“Hyung, I want some!” Donghae whined, and Heechul rolled his eyes, trying to smack Typhoon’s chopsticks away. “Give it to Donghae, I’m not hungry.”
“Aish, girlfriend is so picky. Are you on a diet?” Typhoon teased, but Heechul ignored him, even as Donghae leaned forward and opened his mouth like a baby bird waiting to be fed.
Yesung bit the inside of his cheek and stared at the table before he leaned forward and flicked a piece of rice off of the corner, aiming at the clock on the wall.
The clock cracked and fell to the ground with a loud crash.
Yesung blinked, sitting up from his slouch. The cafeteria had gone relatively quiet by that point as Yesung stared down at his hand and then back at the clock on the floor. “…I didn’t mean to.” He finally murmured, turning to Heechul. “I didn’t mean to break the clock, hyung.”
Heechul merely stood, “Come on Yesung, let’s go.” He grabbed Yesung’s wrist and tugged him to his feet. Yesung stumbled, nearly tripping as Heechul said something back to Typhoon and the others but he wasn’t paying much attention to the details.
He wasn’t going to get in trouble for breaking the clock, right?
---
With his power came a new nickname: Sniper. Yesung liked the nickname Yesung better. Sniper sounded cliched and well, kind of lame. It would be cool if he were ten, which was why Donghae thought it was the coolest nickname in the world.
The week after his power had appeared had been spent in various labs trying to discover the limitations of his gift. It wasn’t hard to understand, he could turn anything into a bullet, although smaller objects were the easiest to aim.
He carried around an odd assortment of junk: a button that had fallen off of his coat, some loose change, a few cough drops. Circular items were easier to shoot but he figured that this was probably just a mental thing.
Gaining his power had been welcome. Now he wasn’t the odd boy out again. He was like everyone else.
Better, Heechul told him, because his power was really useful.
Cooler, Donghae told him, because really, what an awesome power!
Yesung just liked that he was included.
There was something gratifying at being able to hit anything that he set his eyes on. The satisfying thud that came as the “bullet” hit the bulls-eye was music to his ears. He spent hours at the shooting range just because he enjoyed hitting a target that no one else could hit. Being useful and accepted had always been important to him, and this gift brought him one step closer.
---
Two weeks after his power had appeared they gave him a puppy. He named her Kkoming and they let her sleep in the dorm room. Heechul didn’t even complain about the barking, he just ignored her and put in a pair of ear plugs and read his book.
Donghae had one too, a little dog that he named Bada. They didn’t give Heechul a pet and Yesung assumed it was because they didn’t think he’d be able to take care of it. When he’d told Donghae this the other boy had started laughing and teased him.
They’d told Typhoon and Typhoon had given a sharp smile and told them not to say anything to Heechul if they wanted to live.
Yesung really liked living, so he’d decided that was probably for the best. Donghae, however, was under the impression that being Heechul’s favorite made him immune to Heechul’s wrath or immortal or something.
“You want to pet Bada, hyung?” Donghae sat on his own bed with the puppy jumping around and yipping.
Heechul pulled out one of his ear plugs and eyed the dog with disinterest. “I’ll pass.” He went back to reading.
“Hyung is always reading.” Donghae pouted.
“I have a mission tomorrow, idiot. I have to look over some things.” Heechul responded, eyes never leaving the pages.
Donghae turned to where Yesung sat with Kkoming. “Isn’t it great hyung? One day we’ll go on missions like Heechul hyung!”
Yesung nodded. Actually, he’d been envious every time he’d seen Heechul and Typhoon head out on a job and leave them behind. Donghae was too young and Yesung’s power hadn’t appeared but that would change now, wouldn’t it?
“Bada, you want to play with hyung, don’t you? Do you want to give him kisses?”
“Idiot, don’t get the dog anywhere near me.” Heechul snapped, “Especially not my face. They’re disgusting!”
“Come on hyung, it’s just a puppy! And she’s cute. Come ooooon.” Donghae had grabbed Bada and was inching toward the other man, the puppy wriggling in his grip.
“I don’t want to pet it!” Heechul snapped, and Bada gave a soft whine. Heechul grabbed his papers and hopped off of his bed, storming to the door.
“Where are you going?” Donghae asked worriedly, scared that he’d made Heechul so angry.
“Typhoon’s room.” Heechul ground out, and the door closed behind him with a definite click.
Yesung stared at the door and then turned to Donghae. The other boy had begun to cry, holding Bada close to his chest. Kkoming had begun crawling up Yesung’s shirt and her nose was cold on his stomach but he didn’t pay her any attention.
“Donghae he didn’t…”
“He’s mad at me!” Donghae hiccupped. “I just wanted him to pet her. I just thought that h-hyung wanted to. Sometimes he looks like he wants to but he s-stops so I thought m-maybe I could just…”
Yesung leaned over and patted Donghae awkwardly on the shoulder. “It’s not your fault. Hyung has been cranky lately.” He’d have to tell Heechul later that he’d overreacted and hurt Donghae’s feelings.
---
Yesung didn’t actually tell Heechul later that he’d overreacted. Lecturing Heechul was a death sentence and Yesung liked to believe he had a moderate level of self preservation. He didn’t have to, anyway, because Heechul came back later that night with a box of chocopies and placed them on Donghae’s bed and told him that he couldn’t give any to Bada because chocolate was bad for dogs.
Just like that the situation seemed to deflate.
Heechul refused to get any closer to the dogs or to touch them however. He snapped when anyone mentioned them and when Yesung and Donghae returned from training and played with them, he always left to hang out with Typhoon.
Yesung didn’t understand why Heechul hated them so much.
That was, until a month after they’d been given Bada and Kkoming.
Heechul was out on a mission with Typhoon and some of the others and Donghae and Yesung had finished training early. The instructors had told them all to go back to their rooms after lunch and wait. They didn’t know what for, but Donghae and Yesung had decided that maybe they would begin mission training.
Yesung sighed, picking up Kkoming and holding her in his lap. “Do you think they’ll put us on the same team as hyung?”
“Of course! That’s what the dorm rooms are for.” Donghae announced confidently. “I heard Instructor Cho talking about it. The only reason hyung is with Typhoon is because we haven’t started training yet.”
“Really?” Yesung perked up. He’d been worried that they might get put with different people. But if they were with Heechul then it would be alright. He’d been worried for nothing.
The door opened and Instructor Hong walked in, his expression neutral. “Jongwoon, come with me.”
Yesung nodded slowly, standing, picking up Kkoming and placing her on the comforter, but paused when Instructor Hong looked up from his clipboard, “Bring your dog.” Yesung hesitated, before he scooped Kkoming up and shot Donghae an inquisitive glance. Donghae shrugged, picking up Bada and holding her to his chest.
“Instructor Cho will be here soon, Donghae.” Instructor Hong announced before opening the door. “Come, Jongwoon.”
---
Instructor Hong led Yesung to a plain white room with no windows. The only thing in it was a folded steel chair that Instructor Hong set up and settled upon. He scribbled something on his clipboard before he looked up, noticing that Yesung was staring at him awkwardly.
“Let your dog down.”
Yesung pursed his lips, but did as he was told. Kkoming was wriggling in his arms to be set free. The moment her paws hit the tile she let out a happy yip and began running around, tail wagging.
Instructor Hong pulled out a rubber ball and rolled it across the floor. When Kkoming spotted it she rushed forward. The ball was almost the same size as she was and she tumbled over it, twisting onto her belly before managing to get upright, going after it again.
Yesung grinned as he watched, grabbing the ball and bouncing it in the opposite direction, watching as she went after it.
“Jongwoon, here.” Instructor Hong held out his hand, and in his palm was a small dice. Yesung picked it up hesitantly, unsure what it was for.
“Now kill it.”
Yesung blinked, shocked. “…what?”
“Kill it.” Instructor Hong repeated tartly. “The dog. Kill it.” He motioned toward Kkoming who was happily chasing the red ball.
Surely this was a joke. Kill Kkoming? Why would he do something like that?
“This is part of your test, Kim Jongwoon.” Instructor Hong continued, his voice sharp. “Now shoot the dog.”
He was serious. Yesung shook his head, taking a step back. “I can’t.”
“Kill the dog, Jongwoon.”
Kkoming let out another happy bark, stumbling over the ball again. She began running and her tiny claws skidded on the tiles. She fell before pushing back to her feet and going after her toy.
He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. Why would Instructor Hong tell him to kill Kkoming? Kkoming hadn’t done anything wrong. She was just a little puppy. His eyes began to burn and he wanted to run away. He needed to get away right now.
Instructor Hong looked angry.
Yesung let out a shaky breath, then another, and when he inhaled he choked and soon he was sobbing, “Don’t make me.”
“Do it.”
“P-please don’t. Please don’t make me do it.”
“Kill it now.”
“I can’t.” Yesung shook his head, taking another step back. Instructor Hong grabbed his arm and held him in place.
“DO IT!”
“STOP!” Yesung pulled back, trying to get free. Kkoming had noticed that they were yelling and had turned. Get away, get away, get away! He screamed silently.
“KILL IT NOW!”
He shot.
Kkoming only let out a small whimper before she collapsed, slipping to the floor with a soft thump.
“Noooo nononono.” Yesung slumped to the ground, hand over his mouth. He felt like puking.
He crawled over the few feet toward her and slowly picked the puppy up. She’d gotten bigger over the few months, but she still fit easily in his lap. She was still warm, and he could feel the blood from the wound soaking into his lap.
“I’m sorry.” He coughed, and there was snot slipping out of his nose and tears running down his cheeks but he didn’t care. He’d just killed Kkoming. He’d gotten scared and there’d been so much yelling and…and how could he have done that? How could he have been such a horrible person?
“K-kkoming…” He folded in on himself, doubling over her tiny frame, clutching her as tightly to his chest as possible. “I’m sorry ‘msorrysosorryplease…”
The door opened and closed, and Yesung was barely aware of the fact that Instructor Hong had left, or that the lights had been turned out. He didn’t know how long he stayed there except that when the door opened again, the blood on his arms had dried and begun to flake off.
The light was turned on, but he was still hunched over, hair in his eyes, so the bright light didn’t sting.
“Come on Yesung.” Gloved hands brushed against his arms.
Yesung tightened his grip on Kkoming. “…did you know…?” He whispered brokenly. “Did you know they’d do this?”
Heechul didn’t answer, he simply sat down beside him.
Yesung turned abruptly, bangs sticking to his cheeks from the tears. He brushed them aside roughly and glared, feeling fresh tears at the corners of his eyes. “You knew and you didn’t tell me! How could you do that?”
“What would you have done?” Heechul asked simply, and even then there was a condescending tone, but it was soft, hidden, because it looked like he hadn’t meant it to come out that way. “If I’d told you that they’d make you kill the puppy, what would you have done?”
“I would have told them to s-stop. I wouldn’t have t-taken c-care of her. I-I’d-”
“They would have given her to someone else and they would have killed her.” Heechul answered smoothly. He was looking at the wall, at the small blood spatter that painted the white tile. “And you would have been punished for disobeying orders.”
“I don’t care.” Yesung replied hotly.
“They would have killed you if you didn’t listen.” Heechul’s voice was cold, to-the-point, but it wasn’t cruel. It was brutally honest, a warning, oddly kind.
Yesung didn’t say anything. He merely pressed his face into Kkoming’s fur and screamed.
“We can’t bury her, but I brought this.” Something was pressed against Yesung’s leg. He sniffled, brushing his sleeve along his nose and knowing that some of the not-fully dried blood was now smeared across his face.
It was a small china pot. It looked like it belonged to a tea set.
“It’s kind of like an urn.” Heechul defended upon receiving Yesung’s confused stare. He rolled his eyes as Yesung merely continued to stare numbly. “Geeze, you don’t understand anything do you?” He lifted the dog out of Yesung’s lap with one hand, slipping off the glove of his other in one swift movement.
“No!” Yesung began, but Heechul hesitantly ran his hand over Kkoming’s head, a gentle pat before her fur turned to dust. Yesung didn’t want to watch, but he couldn’t look away as his puppy slowly became a pile of ashes.
Heechul swallowed, slipping on his glove again. “…her fur was soft…” He seemed to realize what he’d said a moment later and turned away with a soft sniff, reaching for the china pot. “Here, help me put the ashes in.”
Yesung leaned forward, but he was afraid to touch them. He watched as Heechul scooped up a handful and gently placed it inside the pot, fingers shaky ever so slightly. Yesung’s eyes followed Heechul’s gloved fingers, the black leather covered in a layer of gray dust as he painstakingly collected every last bit of ash and placed it inside. He put the lid on with a soft click and pushed it across the floor to Yesung. “Here. Come on, let’s go sleep.”
“I don’t…” Yesung trailed off, unsure if he was going to cry or throw up.
“You need to sleep. It’s late.” Heechul had stood. “Someone will come in and clean everything up.” The blood. The evidence that it had happened at all. Heechul eyed Yesung. “…you need to take a shower first.”
Yesung managed to stand, hands curling around the cool surface of the pot. “…I didn’t mean to do it, hyung.” His voice caught in the back of his throat, sticking. “I didn’t. I didn’t mean to.”
“I know.” Heechul replied softly. “It was an accident.” As if he were telling a young child not to be afraid of a monster under the bed. Mommy will check and everything will be ok.
Except that everything wouldn’t be ok.
Because the monster under the bed was him, and Heechul couldn’t protect him from himself.