fic-DBSK-Hand in Hand-Chapter 1
Title: Hand in Hand: Chapter 1
Author: virdant
Length: 1,479 words; multi-part (1/?)
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Tragedy, Angst
Pairing: JaeChun
Summary: “ID?” Jung Yunho asks. He doesn’t seem to remember Jaejoong from twenty minutes ago. Jaejoong hands Yunho his ID; Yunho swipes the chip in, reciting dully, “We apologize for the inconvenience. There have been some problems recently and we’re simply insuring the safety of everybody in the city.”
Warning: Disturbing Content
Notes: Fun, un-outlined ficcage. But fun. Posted before the outline is even considered because yuxo is very persuasive. (and it's her birthday!)
Hand in Hand
Chapter 1
“Fuck!”
As Jaejoong slides out of the tracks, bag heavy on his shoulder, he’s almost run over by some fool going over the limit. He stumbles instead of slides, and barely manages to land on his feet at the landing. Instead, he lurches, almost falls, and feels his leg twinge strangely as he stumbles the three steps before his balance kicks in.
“Sorry!” the kid-dressed in vivid red-manages to caw before he’s sucked back into the crowd.
“Stupid kids,” Jaejoong snarls at the garish red as it fades into the mix of brightness on sticky dark. Stupid kids and their inability to understand the idea of bystanders who also walk on the tracks. Stupid kids and their wide smiles and too bright eyes.
Languidly, Yoochun drawls in Jaejoong’s ear, “You were one of them too, once a long time ago.”
“That was years ago,” Jaejoong replies, focusing on the road in front of him as he walks away from the tracks. Focus on moving forward, not on getting sucked back into the rush and flow of the tracks; brilliant color. “Years.” He spits out the word as if it’s a curse, the straps of his bag heavy on his shoulder.
Yoochun doesn’t reply, and Jaejoong makes the trek out in silence.
*
Jaejoong lives outside the city and its maze of fast-tracks. He lives on the outskirts, outside the city border, and every week he goes through city border immigration when he goes into the city and then goes through city border immigration again as he goes out, a bag heavy with the food for the week on his shoulder. He’s one of the many who live outside the city, working one of the many jobs and buying food and other necessities inside the city that he doesn’t live in.
This time, there’s a line. The line spirals past the border and drives into the bustle of the city. A track cuts through the line of men and women waiting to go home, and Jaejoong can see the bustle of kids playing touch-glow-tag on the track before they slide into the distance, far away from the line of tired people.
“Wow,” Jaejoong manages when he finally realizes that what he’s seeing isn’t just a dream drawn on his eyes. “What happened?”
It takes a while before Yoochun replies, but when he does, his voice is bewildered. “Go up front.”
“Cut the line?”
Yoochun doesn’t reply.
Jaejoong shrugs a little, and walks along the left of the line. He cuts through the track, cursing a little as a pompous official scowls at him and swings a cane into his path. The tracks are both the best invention in the world and the worst. They provide efficient transportation: fast, convenient, and energy-efficient. But they also provide a gathering of some of the most annoying and pompous individuals on the city, because everybody takes them.
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to get in the back of the line,” a tired voice says.
It’s a government official, tired-looking, with a grimace that doesn’t resemble the polite smile that officials usually wear. There’s a little tag just under his left shoulder. It flashes “Jung Yunho” in the square letters of Commek in bright red.
“What’s going on?” Jaejoong asks. Yoochun listens.
He sighs. “I can’t say. Suffice to say, we’re screening all individuals before they exit.” Only now does Jaejoong realize what he’s seeing. Instead of the simple immigration tables set up with screens and the occasional scanner for a chip, the border sprawls with more. Tents block the view of the elusive exit to the city. People all dressed in the uniform of the city counsel guard scurry about, speaking in muffled voices.
“Can’t or won’t?” Yoochun whispers.
Jung Yunho, government official, sighs.
“Can’t or won’t?” Jaejoong demands.
“Can’t.” He stares squarely at Jaejoong. “Please line up.”
“Oh,” Yoochun breathes in horrific realization, “they’re quarantining.”
Quarantine.
Oh. No.
*
The line snakes forward. Old women with synthetic hemp bags from years ago filled with the cheap food of the markets cross out. Young men jostling each other swagger out, covered with dusty grime and bringing back food for their families.
Finally, Jaejoong faces Jung Yunho again.
“ID?” Jung Yunho asks. He doesn’t seem to remember Jaejoong from twenty minutes ago. Jaejoong hands Yunho his ID; Yunho swipes the chip in, reciting dully, “We apologize for the inconvenience. There have been some problems recently and we’re simply insuring the safety of everybody in the city.”
“Why is the city in quarantine?”
Yunho smiles. It’s more like a grimace. “I’m not certain where you got that information, but the city isn’t under quarantine.”
“It is,” Yoochun whispers.
“It is,” Jaejoong echoes.
Yunho sighs and focuses on the data streaming on the screen. He taps the screen a little. “It says here,” he says slowly, “that you received an implant seven years ago.”
“I did,” Jaejoong says slowly, sliding closer towards the border. There are tents set up, blocking the view of the outsides. The smell of acetone wafts suddenly across.
“I’m going to have to ask you to remove it before you can go outside.”
Jaejoong slides up to cup the implant just in his ear. “What?”
“Please remove”-
“No.”
Yunho blinks, grimaces, and sighs. “It’s city policy.”
“It’s not city policy,” Jaejoong snaps.
“Calm down, Jaejoong,” Yoochun whispers.
“I’ve had the implant for seven years.” A burst of pressure splashes against the tents. A wail, a child’s wail, high and shrill, cuts through the sound of air jets running. Again, Jaejoong smells the sticky dryness of acetone, the bitter acridness of other chemicals that he can’t identify. “And I’ve never had to remove it.” Even through all those passages through the border.
Jung Yunho grimaces. Jaejoong thinks: if only he would smile, Jung Yunho would be a very handsome man. If only the city weren’t under quarantine, then this would never have happened and he would never have met Jung Yunho with his too tired eyes and grimace for a smile.
He doesn’t smile.
Instead, he faces Jaejoong’s squarely and speaks. Not the bland recitation of facts, not the apologetic speech of a friend, but something in between. Sympathy in the bland words. Formality in the apology.
“There’s an epidemic.” Yunho blinks rapidly as he speaks. “It targets the implants. From there is spreads to the entire body. The body dissolves, and after the disease has spread from the implant, it can spread to people without the implant. Only those with implants get the disease originally, but everybody can get it from those with the implant. City Counsel has decided that to prevent the spread of this disease to other cities, everybody with an implant is quarantined.”
Yunho smiles then. Apologetically, with tired eyes and a grimace in his smile. “I’m sorry. But you’ll have to remove your implant before I can let you pass.”
“And then?” Jaejoong asks. “You’ll have me put in quarantine anyways.”
Jung Yunho closes his eyes. “Yes.”
Jaejoong frowns. “So no matter what happens…”
“Jaejoong,” Yoochun whispers, “It’s alright, you know.”
Jung Yunho stares steadily at Jaejoong for several very long seconds. Jaejoong can feel the pulsing of the implant in his ear in time with his heartbeat for all of those seconds. Yoochun breathes with him. Inhale. Exhale.
“No,” Jaejoong says finally, “I’m not removing it.” He stares at Yunho steadily until Yunho turns away.
“As long as you have the implant, you can’t leave the city. But if you stay in the city… there are over ten thousand people with implants.” Yunho looks back at Jaejoong. He shrugs, smiling wryly.
Jaejoong smiles and takes a step back.
Jaejoong thinks: so this is what Jung Yunho looks like when he smiles. So this is what happens.
“Run,” Yunho whispers, and it’s a plea. “Run, as fast and as far as you can.”
Jaejoong backs up, staring steadily into Yunho’s face. Yunho’s eyes are calm, steady, and careful. Jaejoong thinks: I can trust this person. Jaejoong thinks: I want to meet him again
“Thank you.”
“Thank you,” Yoochun echoes.
“Run,” Yunho whispers again, and Jaejoong notices the way he presses a hand to an elbow heavily bandaged. Notices the way he looks almost lost, having something so precious taken away from him. “Don’t… don’t get caught,” he adds. “Hide.”
Where? Yunho’s eyes have no answer.
“I’m sorry,” Jaejoong whispers instead of pressing further, before he turns around and starts walking, away from outside, and deep into the city. He thinks he can feel Yunho’s eyes on him. Thinks that his leg will collapse any second and Yunho’s kindness will be for naught. Thinks he can hear the city guard mustering to take Yoochun away already.
“I’m sorry too,” Yoochun whispers into Jaejoong’s ear. “For being here. For making you do this.”
I’m sorry.
What for?
For existing.
TBC. [Chapter 2]
Fun fun fun fic. I like this fic very much. And yes, concrit. Ohh, if you hate it, please tell me actually. Compliments make me paranoid sometimes.
Author: virdant
Length: 1,479 words; multi-part (1/?)
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Tragedy, Angst
Pairing: JaeChun
Summary: “ID?” Jung Yunho asks. He doesn’t seem to remember Jaejoong from twenty minutes ago. Jaejoong hands Yunho his ID; Yunho swipes the chip in, reciting dully, “We apologize for the inconvenience. There have been some problems recently and we’re simply insuring the safety of everybody in the city.”
Warning: Disturbing Content
Notes: Fun, un-outlined ficcage. But fun. Posted before the outline is even considered because yuxo is very persuasive. (and it's her birthday!)
Hand in Hand
Chapter 1
“Fuck!”
As Jaejoong slides out of the tracks, bag heavy on his shoulder, he’s almost run over by some fool going over the limit. He stumbles instead of slides, and barely manages to land on his feet at the landing. Instead, he lurches, almost falls, and feels his leg twinge strangely as he stumbles the three steps before his balance kicks in.
“Sorry!” the kid-dressed in vivid red-manages to caw before he’s sucked back into the crowd.
“Stupid kids,” Jaejoong snarls at the garish red as it fades into the mix of brightness on sticky dark. Stupid kids and their inability to understand the idea of bystanders who also walk on the tracks. Stupid kids and their wide smiles and too bright eyes.
Languidly, Yoochun drawls in Jaejoong’s ear, “You were one of them too, once a long time ago.”
“That was years ago,” Jaejoong replies, focusing on the road in front of him as he walks away from the tracks. Focus on moving forward, not on getting sucked back into the rush and flow of the tracks; brilliant color. “Years.” He spits out the word as if it’s a curse, the straps of his bag heavy on his shoulder.
Yoochun doesn’t reply, and Jaejoong makes the trek out in silence.
*
Jaejoong lives outside the city and its maze of fast-tracks. He lives on the outskirts, outside the city border, and every week he goes through city border immigration when he goes into the city and then goes through city border immigration again as he goes out, a bag heavy with the food for the week on his shoulder. He’s one of the many who live outside the city, working one of the many jobs and buying food and other necessities inside the city that he doesn’t live in.
This time, there’s a line. The line spirals past the border and drives into the bustle of the city. A track cuts through the line of men and women waiting to go home, and Jaejoong can see the bustle of kids playing touch-glow-tag on the track before they slide into the distance, far away from the line of tired people.
“Wow,” Jaejoong manages when he finally realizes that what he’s seeing isn’t just a dream drawn on his eyes. “What happened?”
It takes a while before Yoochun replies, but when he does, his voice is bewildered. “Go up front.”
“Cut the line?”
Yoochun doesn’t reply.
Jaejoong shrugs a little, and walks along the left of the line. He cuts through the track, cursing a little as a pompous official scowls at him and swings a cane into his path. The tracks are both the best invention in the world and the worst. They provide efficient transportation: fast, convenient, and energy-efficient. But they also provide a gathering of some of the most annoying and pompous individuals on the city, because everybody takes them.
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to get in the back of the line,” a tired voice says.
It’s a government official, tired-looking, with a grimace that doesn’t resemble the polite smile that officials usually wear. There’s a little tag just under his left shoulder. It flashes “Jung Yunho” in the square letters of Commek in bright red.
“What’s going on?” Jaejoong asks. Yoochun listens.
He sighs. “I can’t say. Suffice to say, we’re screening all individuals before they exit.” Only now does Jaejoong realize what he’s seeing. Instead of the simple immigration tables set up with screens and the occasional scanner for a chip, the border sprawls with more. Tents block the view of the elusive exit to the city. People all dressed in the uniform of the city counsel guard scurry about, speaking in muffled voices.
“Can’t or won’t?” Yoochun whispers.
Jung Yunho, government official, sighs.
“Can’t or won’t?” Jaejoong demands.
“Can’t.” He stares squarely at Jaejoong. “Please line up.”
“Oh,” Yoochun breathes in horrific realization, “they’re quarantining.”
Quarantine.
Oh. No.
*
The line snakes forward. Old women with synthetic hemp bags from years ago filled with the cheap food of the markets cross out. Young men jostling each other swagger out, covered with dusty grime and bringing back food for their families.
Finally, Jaejoong faces Jung Yunho again.
“ID?” Jung Yunho asks. He doesn’t seem to remember Jaejoong from twenty minutes ago. Jaejoong hands Yunho his ID; Yunho swipes the chip in, reciting dully, “We apologize for the inconvenience. There have been some problems recently and we’re simply insuring the safety of everybody in the city.”
“Why is the city in quarantine?”
Yunho smiles. It’s more like a grimace. “I’m not certain where you got that information, but the city isn’t under quarantine.”
“It is,” Yoochun whispers.
“It is,” Jaejoong echoes.
Yunho sighs and focuses on the data streaming on the screen. He taps the screen a little. “It says here,” he says slowly, “that you received an implant seven years ago.”
“I did,” Jaejoong says slowly, sliding closer towards the border. There are tents set up, blocking the view of the outsides. The smell of acetone wafts suddenly across.
“I’m going to have to ask you to remove it before you can go outside.”
Jaejoong slides up to cup the implant just in his ear. “What?”
“Please remove”-
“No.”
Yunho blinks, grimaces, and sighs. “It’s city policy.”
“It’s not city policy,” Jaejoong snaps.
“Calm down, Jaejoong,” Yoochun whispers.
“I’ve had the implant for seven years.” A burst of pressure splashes against the tents. A wail, a child’s wail, high and shrill, cuts through the sound of air jets running. Again, Jaejoong smells the sticky dryness of acetone, the bitter acridness of other chemicals that he can’t identify. “And I’ve never had to remove it.” Even through all those passages through the border.
Jung Yunho grimaces. Jaejoong thinks: if only he would smile, Jung Yunho would be a very handsome man. If only the city weren’t under quarantine, then this would never have happened and he would never have met Jung Yunho with his too tired eyes and grimace for a smile.
He doesn’t smile.
Instead, he faces Jaejoong’s squarely and speaks. Not the bland recitation of facts, not the apologetic speech of a friend, but something in between. Sympathy in the bland words. Formality in the apology.
“There’s an epidemic.” Yunho blinks rapidly as he speaks. “It targets the implants. From there is spreads to the entire body. The body dissolves, and after the disease has spread from the implant, it can spread to people without the implant. Only those with implants get the disease originally, but everybody can get it from those with the implant. City Counsel has decided that to prevent the spread of this disease to other cities, everybody with an implant is quarantined.”
Yunho smiles then. Apologetically, with tired eyes and a grimace in his smile. “I’m sorry. But you’ll have to remove your implant before I can let you pass.”
“And then?” Jaejoong asks. “You’ll have me put in quarantine anyways.”
Jung Yunho closes his eyes. “Yes.”
Jaejoong frowns. “So no matter what happens…”
“Jaejoong,” Yoochun whispers, “It’s alright, you know.”
Jung Yunho stares steadily at Jaejoong for several very long seconds. Jaejoong can feel the pulsing of the implant in his ear in time with his heartbeat for all of those seconds. Yoochun breathes with him. Inhale. Exhale.
“No,” Jaejoong says finally, “I’m not removing it.” He stares at Yunho steadily until Yunho turns away.
“As long as you have the implant, you can’t leave the city. But if you stay in the city… there are over ten thousand people with implants.” Yunho looks back at Jaejoong. He shrugs, smiling wryly.
Jaejoong smiles and takes a step back.
Jaejoong thinks: so this is what Jung Yunho looks like when he smiles. So this is what happens.
“Run,” Yunho whispers, and it’s a plea. “Run, as fast and as far as you can.”
Jaejoong backs up, staring steadily into Yunho’s face. Yunho’s eyes are calm, steady, and careful. Jaejoong thinks: I can trust this person. Jaejoong thinks: I want to meet him again
“Thank you.”
“Thank you,” Yoochun echoes.
“Run,” Yunho whispers again, and Jaejoong notices the way he presses a hand to an elbow heavily bandaged. Notices the way he looks almost lost, having something so precious taken away from him. “Don’t… don’t get caught,” he adds. “Hide.”
Where? Yunho’s eyes have no answer.
“I’m sorry,” Jaejoong whispers instead of pressing further, before he turns around and starts walking, away from outside, and deep into the city. He thinks he can feel Yunho’s eyes on him. Thinks that his leg will collapse any second and Yunho’s kindness will be for naught. Thinks he can hear the city guard mustering to take Yoochun away already.
“I’m sorry too,” Yoochun whispers into Jaejoong’s ear. “For being here. For making you do this.”
I’m sorry.
What for?
For existing.
TBC. [Chapter 2]
Fun fun fun fic. I like this fic very much. And yes, concrit. Ohh, if you hate it, please tell me actually. Compliments make me paranoid sometimes.