Chapter Text
Cras amet qui nunquam amavit
Donghyuck hurls his standard-issue, military-authorized loading bag onto the bottom bunk. His assigned dorm room has two bunk beds, which means there are only four Omegas Trainees in the entire base. None of the beds have blankets, and judging by the draft in the room, the central heating system isn’t connected to this room, either. Most likely, this room was once an old storage room that had been hastily converted into a bedroom after it became illegal to discriminate against Omegas.
“Are these our dorms?”
Donghyuck turns around. Standing in front of the door is another Trainee. Taller and brawnier than most Omegas, Donghyuck would have mistaken the Trainee for a wandering Beta or Alpha if it wasn’t for his sweet, cloying scent. Before Donghyuck can stop himself, he replies, “They’re certainly not our training rooms. Mister…”
“Jeno. Lee Jeno.” When Donghyuck doesn’t say anything, he asks tentatively, “And you are…?”
“Lee Donghyuck. I’m from the Fifth Base, stationed in Incheon, but I don’t recognize you—are you one of the Seoulites?”
Jeno nods. “I was born in Incheon, though.”
Donghyuck grins, sly and sharp. “Really? I was born in Seoul.”
Jeno laughs and his eyes turn into little crescents. It transforms his entire appearance—makes him look softer somehow. More like an Omega. “Maybe we were fated to meet, Donghyuck-ssi.”
“I’m not a believer of fate, Jeno-ssi.” Donghyuck jerks his head toward the top bunk. “But as long as you’re not a snorer I don’t mind being bedmates.”
“I’m not a snorer,” Jeno assures him and heads toward the bunk bed. He’s carrying his own standard-issue backpack, along with a small bottle of pills—taldroexin, a popular heat suppressant and scent blocker. When Jeno notices Donghyuck’s gaze lingering on his bottle, he says, “Remember the Holovid Dr.Kim sent us last week? It said our heat suppressants would be in the Infirmary, so I grabbed mine as soon as I got to Ludus.”
Donghyuck’s brow furrows. Huh.
“I’m guessing you haven’t gotten yours yet? You should probably do that soon. Dr. Kim said it’s imperative that all Omegas are put on heat suppressants before evaluations.”
“Dr. Kim sounds dramatic.”
“Still,” Jeno protests, “we are in a military base full of Alphas…”
Yeah, I know.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
Donghyuck shakes his head. “I’m good.”
Jeno deflates. “Oh. Okay.”
Donghyuck would feel bad – and maybe he feels bad, anyway – but there are reasons why he wants to avoid going to the Infirmary with Jeno. Unlike Jeno, or any of the other Omegas in Ludus, Donghyuck doesn’t take taldroexin. Jeno can’t know that, though. It’s illegal for Omegas in the military to avoid taking heat-suppressants and while Jeno looks nice, like he helps the old ladies carry their luggage on the subway, like he rescues cats from trees, Donghyuck doesn’t trust him with his secrets. Donghyuck doesn’t trust most people with his secrets. He shrugs, avoiding Jeno’s eyes, and grabs his ID before leaving the room, knowing that he has to make it look like he went to grab his base-sanctioned bottle of taldroexin.
As soon as the door closes behind him, however, he heads in the opposite direction of the Infirmary, deciding that he might as well as use this excursion as an opportunity to explore more of the base. Hopefully, he can find an empty training room. Evaluations are tomorrow and a little practice might help polish his already perfected skills.
Quickly, Donghyuck realizes that finding a training room is going to be a harder task than he thought.
They made Ludus as confusing as possible on purpose, didn’t they?
Half of the base is modern: password protected doors, bulletproof windows, and bright fluorescent lighting. The other half—the more confusing half—looks like an old Joseon-style palace: curved wooden columns, lotus-tiled roofs, and bamboo-and-silk screens. Donghyuck keeps striding down metal-and-glass infused hallways, expecting to find a modern practice room at the other end, or even an armory, anywhere where there’s an automated bow-and-arrow—hell, he wouldn’t even mind a gun at this point—but he keeps ending up in tearooms and unfurnished meditation spaces. He has no idea why the army decided to keep these unnecessary places, but it leaves him impatient and frustrated. When he realizes the hallway he’s walking down is leading to another dead-end he bangs his head against the wall.
“Fuck my life.”
“Only if you insist, sweetheart.”
Lifting his head, Donghyuck spots an Alpha leaning against the wall. Donghyuck hadn’t notices him before, which, well, isn’t surprising considering the fact that the Alpha is unremarkable. The only noteworthy thing about him is that his black coat is embroidered with the symbol of Ludus Trainees: a gold, fanged tooth. He must be a Trainee, which means he must be one of Donghyuck’s fellow soldiers. Pity. Donghyuck had hoped that the Alpha Trainees accepted into Ludus would be mature, if only because Ludus is the most elite military base in South Korea and one would think maturity was a prerequisite to training here, but that was too much to ask for, wasn’t it? Don’t expect a lion to spare a sheep, Hyuck-ah, his grandmother’s voice murmurs in the back of his head. Except Donghyuck isn’t a sheep. He’s Lee Donghyuck, the highest scorer from the Fifth Base, and he doesn’t mind kicking an Alpha’s ass, especially if that Alpha leers at him and makes gross, unwarranted, comments.
“I don’t insist,” Donghyuck replies pleasantly. “In fact, I refute.” He steps forward, squaring his shoulders. “But I suppose you don’t know what that means, so I’ll make it simple for you: Get the fuck away from me, asshole.”
Sometimes that’s all Donghyuck has to do. Sometimes that’s enough to intimidate an Alpha. After all, most Alphas don’t like when Omegas talk back, or—in Donghyuck’s case—charge back.
But there are always exceptions.
This Alpha is one of them. Instead of drawing away from Donghyuck he moves closer. Smirking, he croons, “I thought you’d have a mouth on you, but don’t worry, I don’t mind. I like my Omegas feisty.”
Donghyuck bares his teeth. “You should leave before you see what my mouth can do.”
“No, sweetheart.” Before Donghyuck can stop him, the Alpha grabs Donghyuck’s chin. “I'll show you what your mouth can do. And your lips—and your tongue—when they’re wrapped around my—”
Donghyuck spits in his face.
The Alpha recoils as the spit slides down his chin and shoves Donghyuck away from him.
Donghyuck snickers, immensely satisfied with himself. “Did I show you?” Donghyuck crows. “Or would you like another demonstration? Trust me, I’m more than capable of going for a second round, sweetheart.”
Donghyuck’s taunting seems to unlock a feral part of the Alpha. He growls, eyes flashing red, before he lunges forward, his arm outstretched—
Donghyuck ducks and slides on the floor.
The Alpha skidders, missing him by more than a foot.
Laughing again, Donghyuck stands up. “Really? That’s all you’ve got? How the hell did you pass prelims?”
“Like this—”
Donghyuck sees the punch before it comes. He grabs the Alpha’s fist and uses the Alpha’s own momentum to drive him forward.
The Alpha crashes into the wall.
Donghyuck lets go of the Alpha’s hand and, as the Alpha flops to the floor, Donghyuck squats in front of him, clucking his tongue. “Why are you picking fights you can’t win? You’re giving me second-hand embarrassment.”
When the Alpha doesn’t say anything else—when he only groans into his chest—Donghyuck rises to his feet and dusts his hands. Did I just break my own record? How long had this fight lasted, anyway? Thirty seconds? A minute? Honestly, Donghyuck is a little disappointed. The Trainees in Ludus are supposed to be the strongest in the country, but if the rest of the Alphas are like this… How the hell are we going to seal the Rifts?
Donghyuck grimaces.
God, I hope the others aren’t like this. He still believes they won’t be, but he won’t know for sure until tomorrow, when the other Trainees will be evaluated by Ludus personnel. Donghyuck isn’t sure what they’ll be tested on—everything is a secret around here—but he figures that it will resemble Basic Training at Incheon. A timed run, an obstacle course, and maybe even some hand-to-hand combat.
If Donghyuck wants to perform well tomorrow—if he wants to establish himself at the top of the class—he should head back to Bunk C4. The second best thing after some light training is get some shut-eye. (God knows he won’t have another good night’s rest until the year is over.)
Where was my room again? Maybe I should try heading this way—
Before Donghyuck can make a decision, something collides into his jaw. No, not something. Some one. As Donghyuck falls, he brings his hand to the floor to balance himself and yanks his head up in time to find the Alpha standing over him, nose bleeding and lips contorted into a scowl.
“You thought I couldn’t take you, huh?”
“Yeah,” Donghyuck says, looking up. “But I’ll give you some credit–that was a nice punch. Where was this energy when I was kicking your ass, though?”
The Alpha brings his foot down into Donghyuck’s stomach. “Shut the fuck up, you stupid Omega bitch—”
Donghyuck’s stomach aches—that was a strong kick—but he can’t help but chuckle, even as the Alpha digs the heel of his combat boots into Donghyuck’s abdomen. God above, this is funny. Stupid Omega bitch. He hasn’t heard that line since his second year of middle school. It’s the kind of thing idiotic thirteen-year olds say to bully the shy kid in their class. Shut up, you stupid Omega bitch! Shut up before I take your lunch money!
The Alpha kicks Donghyuck again and again and again. “You think this is funny? Huh? You think this is fucking funny —”
It is kind of funny, yeah.
But funny or not, the Alpha is whooping Donghyuck’s ass and Donghyuck doesn’t appreciate that. Especially not when the kicks are starting to move up toward his chest. He grabs the Alpha’s ankle, which is surprisingly easy to do, since the moron hasn’t put any distance between him and Donghyuck. As the Alpha brings his foot up to deliver another kick, Donghyuck squeezes his ankle and uses all of his strength to push the Alpha off of him. Like before, the Alpha’s momentum does most of the work for Donghyuck: It throws the Alpha off balance, and as he staggers backward, Donghyuck crawls away.
Donghyuck makes it to the other end of the hallway before he forces himself to get back on his feet. It takes longer than he’d anticipated—while he had been laughing, the Alpha had pressed all of his weight onto Donghyuck’s lungs, and now, it’s hard to breathe. And even harder to move. Fuck.
“I’m gonna kill you—”
Donghyuck curls his hand into a fist. “Try me.”
The Alpha roars; Donghyuck steadies himself.
As the Alpha races toward Donghyuck, Donghyuck swings his first forward—
Donghyuck doesn’t hit the Alpha. Donghyuck doesn’t hit anything. Not for lack of trying, oh no, but because someone’s gripping his hands, holding him back. Donghyuck hisses, trying to break free, but this someone’s grip is strong and precise. Precise enough that Donghyuck can’t find any rivets or cracks to fight his way through—none at all—and for the first time since the fight began, Donghyuck feels himself getting angry. “Let go. Let me go—”
Donghyuck is released.
He stumbles, but a pair of hands wrap around his waist, steadying him, preventing him from crashing onto the ground in an ungraceful heap. Disconcerted, Donghyuck looks up and finds himself staring at a pair of pitch-black eyes, the color of the night sky in Jeju. The eyes belong to a face—a nice face, a treacherous part of Donghyuck thinks—and that face belongs to a man, a man who doesn’t look that much older than Donghyuck, who must be another Trainee, but who tilts his head in a certain way as he looks at Donghyuck that makes another treacherous part of Donghyuck want to bare his neck. He doesn’t, of course. Donghyuck doesn’t—Donghyuck won’t ever—submit to anyone.
“Who are you?” Donghyuck asks. “And why are you trying to ruin my fun?”
The man frowns, bemused. “I was saving you.”
“I don’t need saving.”
“That’s not what it looked like.”
“You missed the part where I threw him into the wall. If you let me go I’ll give you a repeat demonstration—”
“I can’t do that.”
Donghyuck’s eyes flash. “And why the hell not?”
Disapproval radiates off of the man, though now it’s mixed with a layer of indignation. “Because it’s against the rules and those rules exist for a reason, Trainee—”
“Lee,” Donghyuck supplies, not caring if the other man knows his name. “This is our first day here, we might as well as toe the line before the competition starts.”
The man raises an eyebrow. “Who says it’s my first day?”
Scoffing, Donghyuck says, “Oh, come on, I know you’re a Trainee, too—”
The wryest of smiles. “Am I?”
Donghyuck stares at him. “What—”
Still holding Donghyuck, the man shuffles them closer to the light. “Look a little closer.”
Donghyuck’s voice dies in the back of his throat.
Oh, fuck.
“Do you still think this is my first day?”
Donghyuck would bet money the man is smiling, and although that thought infuriates him, he can’t tear his eyes away from the man’s uniform. Underneath the fluorescent lighting of the hallway, the color of his uniform shifts from black to shades of blue, to shimmering teals and navies and cobalts, a mélange of hues that resembles the sea. There’s also several stitched badges on his coat: a fanged tooth, a chain, and finally, a bird flying in formation with seven other birds. “You’re a Flier,” Donghyuck breathes. He fights the urge to trace the outline of the birds with his fingers.
“And you,” the man whispers in Donghyuck’s ears, “are in so much trouble.”
Donghyuck represses a shiver. “But sir… Sir, I’m injured.” He tries his best to sound pitiful, like a vulnerable, scared Omega, even though those are all the things that Donghyuck is not.
“Something you should have considered before you decided to fight,” the Flier replies firmly, but he releases his hold on Donghyuck’s waist. “There aren’t exceptions in Ludus, Trainee Lee—”
I really shouldn’t have given him my name.
“—but for now… For now, you need to visit the Infirmary.”
Oh, the irony. Donghyuck almost starts laughing again.
“Is there something funny?”
“No,” Donghyuck replies, recovering, “just that my ribs might be broken, but you know, nothing major.”
The Flier nods and then turns around. “Arms around my neck.”
Donghyuck’s eyes widen. “What?”
“If your ribs are broken, you’re in no condition to walk. Arms around my neck.”
Donghyuck hesitates. “I don’t know—”
“Should I carry you instead?” the Flier asks, a hint of warning in his voice.
Maybe it’s his grandmother’s voice in his head, warning him not to complain about what is given to him, or maybe it’s the blood trickling down his chest and the way inhaling is started to become unbearable, but Donghyuck does at the Flier asks. (Maybe it’s because the Flier is asking.) He secures his arms around the Flier’s neck, and as the Flier bends down, he wraps his legs around the Flier’s waist. The Flier stands up, straightening and hoisting Donghyuck up with him.
From his peripheral vision, Donghyuck watches as the Alpha—the Alpha he had been seconds from pummeling before the Flier arrived—gets to his feet, cradling his head in his hands. The Alpha’s jaw drops when he sees Donghyuck and the Flier in close proximity.
“Alright?” the Flier asks.
Donghyuck lowers his head into the crook of the Flier’s neck. “Just dandy—”
Then, Donghyuck makes the mistake of taking a deep breath. It’s a mistake, because he inhales over the Flier’s scent glands, and smells something… strange. A very…peculiar kind of scent.
The scent isn’t strong—the Flier is using blockers of some kind—but it’s potent and heady in a way that Beta scents aren’t. (In a way that makes Donghyuck’s mouth dry and his hands sweat.) And the scent isn’t an Omega’s—it’s too deep and too musky for that. No, what the Alpha smells like is a forest at night, right after a rainfall, when the soil is damp and the leaves are wet and all of the wolves have taken cover.
“Stop squirming,” the Alpha says. “You’re heavy enough as it is.”
§§•§§
Donghyuck continues squirming. Dr. Kim is standing at the foot his cot, inspecting him with calm, intelligent eyes. He reminds Donghyuck of Dr. Moon, the head-doctor in the Fifth Base who had always seen through Donghyuck’s lies and half-truths. “Well,” Dr. Kim says, more amused than upset, “I guess now is the time for you to tell me what happened.”
Donghyuck opens his mouth, ready to reply, but the Flier cuts in before he can say anything. “I found him in the middle of an altercation with another Trainee, hyung. He was in bad shape, so I brought him to the Infirmary. I think his ribs are broken.”
“Your actions were commendable, as they always are, but I think the Trainee can speak for himself.”
The Flier flushes and looks away; and, for some reason, Donghyuck feels embarrassed, too. He has never needed someone to stick up for him before. Now Dr. Kim probably thinks Donghyuck is a weak, tongue-tied Omega, reliant on an Alpha to explain things about his own body, and the thought is so infuriating that Donghyuck wants to yell. And Dongyuck would yell, most definitely, if it wasn’t becoming impossible to breathe. He trains his eyes on Dr. Kim and prays to any listening deity for his voice to remain steady. “I… I’m having trouble breathing. My back hurts, too.”
Dr. Kim’s eyes narrow, but when Donghyuck doesn’t elaborate, he nods, accepting Donghyuck’s curt answer. “I’ll do a full-body scan. Maybe an fMRI if there’s too much noise. Whatever’s wrong, I’ll find it. Regardless of what I find, though, I’m afraid you’ll need a few shots of Sterocil.”
Donghyuck chews on his bottom lip. Sterocil?
Noting his hesitance, Dr. Kim explains, “It’s a stem-cell serum. It speeds up cell growth and recovery, particularly of your lupine cells, which will be essential if you want to start training right away.”
Donghyuck relaxes.
“One last thing. Your lips are turning blue, which means you’re not breathing properly. I’m going to intubate you and look around your pulmonary system. To do that, I’ll need to administer a general anesthetic, propofol, which should help you fall asleep.”
Donghyuck nods. Okay .
“Good,” Dr. Kim says, voice gentle and placating. “I’ll go get it now. Sleep dreams, Trainee.”
§§•§§
After Dr. Kim injects him with a dose of propofol, but before Donghyuck falls under the spell of approaching darkness, he catches Dr. Kim speaking to the Flier, his voice hushed and faraway: an echo of an echo.
“...You said he was in a fight. What about the other Trainee?”
The Flier replies, but Donghyuck can’t hear what he’s saying.
“For Goodness sake, Mark, I can’t believe…”
“I know, I…”
His eyelids are heavy. Donghyuck closes them.
“...Thank you, anyway… Know you’ve been quite busy since…”
“...Don’t worry, hyung… I’m alright.”
“My door is always open, Mark Lee, okay?”
Before the Flier can answer, Donghyuck drifts into a dreamless slumber, into the space between breaths, into the hollow in-between of life and death.
It is quiet here.
§§•§§
When Donghyuck wakes up, his entire body is sore. He groans and cracks open his eyes; thankfully, the fluorescent lights in the Infirmary have been dimmed. Donghyuck glances down at his cot and finds that a quilt has been pulled snug around him. Thanks Dr. Kim, he thinks fondly. Tucking in patients is something Dr. Moon used to do, too. “What time is it?” Donghyuck says out loud, expecting Dr. Kim to bustle by his side at any moment.
“Almost ten.”
The voice, while familiar, is not Dr. Kim’s. Donghyuck stiffens. “You’re still here? Sir?”
The Flier clears his throat. “I left and came back.”
“Why?” Donghyuck plays with the quilt. “You’ve performed all of your Samaritan duties already.”
“I—”
Donghyuck waits.
“I still need a statement. From you. About the incident.”
Donghyuck exhales loudly. “Of course you do.”
“Trainee Lee—”
For the first time since he woke up, Donghyuck makes eye contact with the Flier. The Flier looks uncomfortable—more uncomfortable than before—although his gaze remains fixed on Donghyuck. Still, his hair is rumpled, his uniform is more wrinkled than Donghyuck remembers it being, and he is far away from the strong, precise, pristine man he had been hours ago. Because of that, Donghyuck opens his mouth and murmurs, his words falling out of his mouth like rain falling on the ground, seeping into the air the way water sinks into soil, “I thought you’d have a mouth on you, but don’t worry, I don’t mind.”
The Flier tilts his head. “I don’t—”
Taking a deep breath, Donghyuck continues. “I like my Omegas feisty.”
The Flier’s mouth falls shut.
Smiling pleasantly, Donghyuck says, “Should I continue? He got in a few more comments before I pushed him into the wall—nothing too bad, you know—just something like, your lips wrapped around my cock—"
“Enough,” the Flier says quietly.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought, too.”
The Flier stands up, averting eye contact for the first time since they arrived at the Infirmary. “Dr. Kim left me with specific instructions,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, fluttering and awkward and utterly un-Alphalike. “I’m to take you back to your dorm, in case there’s another...” His mouth twists. “Well.”
“It’s alright,” Donghyuck says soothingly. “You can say moron, I understand.”
For a second, the Flier looks taken aback. Then he shakes his head. “Are you always like this?”
Donghyuck shrugs. “Only on days ending in a ‘Y’.”
To Donghyuck’s surprise, the Flier smiles—albeit briefly—before jerking his head toward the entrance. “In that case, we should hurry. Before more morons arrive from dinner.”
After the nurse —Donghyuck learns her name is Yuqi—pulls the IV drip out of Donghyuck’s wrist, he and the Flier walk together toward Bunk C4, the Flier leading the way, gifted with an innate sense of spatial direction that Donghyuck envies.
“I think the other Trainees are inside,” the Flier says when they’re both standing in front of the door. He isn’t quite looking away from Donghyuck, but he isn’t quite looking at him, either. “They should be able to help you change your dressings.”
“Right.”
“Right,” the Flier repeats, fluttering and awkward again.
So much for being an Alpha, Donghyuck thinks, wry. “Well. I guess...I’ll head in now. Sir.”
“Um. Before you go…” The Flier clears his throat. “Hyung told me to give this to you.”
“What?”
Flushing, and looking more flustered than ever, the Flier hands Donghyuck a bottle of taldroexin. Donghyuck accepts the bottle and, upon turning it around, finds that Dr. Kim had written Donghyuck’s name and birthdate on the plain white canister. So he did know who I was, Donghyuck thinks, narrowing his eyes. But he doesn’t know about… Well. That’s one less thing to worry about. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”
The Flier shoves his hands into his pockets. He doesn’t seem like he knows what to say, and Donghyuck doesn’t know why he’s still here, instead of going back to his own room—undoubtedly a much nicer room than Bunk C4—but he waits. He waits for the Alpha to find the right words. (Or maybe they won’t be the right words. Maybe they’ll be all wrong, the wrong cards in the wrong card game, whatever game this is, but so be it. Donghyuck waits, anyway.) Finally, the Flier murmurs, “I didn’t… I didn’t know.”
“Know what?”
“That you were—you know.”
“An Omega?”
The Flier nods. Then, as if he’s worried Donghyuck will get the wrong idea, he adds sharply, “It doesn’t change anything. You broke the rules. I can’t… overlook that, but…I just wanted you to know that… that I didn’t know. I didn’t suspect that you reacted the way you did, because of—”
He wants me to believe that he didn’t know? How stupid does he think I am? Sure, Donghyuck doesn’t smell sweet anymore, not like Jeno, but not once has anyone ever mistaken him for anything other than an Omega. He’s too lithe and too pretty for anyone to mistake him for anything else. He’s lying. He has to be lying. He felt bad that he didn’t intervene earlier and now he’s lying to save face.
“Trainee Lee? Are you alright?”
Why the hell do you care? “I’m tired,” Donghyuck says and as soon as he utters the words, he realizes they’re true. “I want to go to bed now. Sir.”
The Flier visibly struggles, but says, “You… should do that.”
“Can you—”
“Can I?”
“It’s just…” Is he really this naive? “You’re an Alpha, and my roommates, they’re all Omegas—they might not feel comfortable if you’re just… you know, standing here. In front of the door.” Like a fucking creep.
“Oh—oh .”
The Flier’s eyes widen comically and he turns around and starts walking away without another word. His strides are powerful and controlled, but also a little…awkward. Maybe he’s smoother in the air.
As Donghyuck stares at his retreating back, he wonders what the Flier looks like when he’s in the sky. Glorious, maybe… Most Fliers are.
Then again, he doesn’t seem like he’s like most Fliers.
§§•§§
Donghyuck steps inside of the room, expecting to see four plain bunk beds, Jeno, and the other two Omega Trainees. He does spot all of those things—those people—but he also finds himself gaping at the large flower pots on the side-tables, bursting with lilies and lilacs; at the fairy-lights trailing down the walls; at the multicolored rugs strewn on the cinderblock ground; and at the intricately painted watercolors decorating the ash-gray walls. “Who did all of this?” Donghyuck asks, and if he were a cartoon character, his eyes would be bugging out of their sockets.
“All of us!” Jeno sounds excited, waving at Donghyuck from the top bunk. “Do you like it, Donghyuck-ssi?"
“Of course I like it,” Donghyuck replies, a little indignant that Jeno could even think he wouldn’t. “But who’s ‘all of us’ exactly?”
“Me,” says a new voice, a soft, very sultry, feminine voice.
The voice belongs to one of the new Trainees. Donghyuck masks his surprise when he sees her but she must be observant, because her lips curl into a knowing smile, anyway. “There’s not enough Omegas here to justify separating us by our primary genders,” she explains from her spot on one of the rugs. “Not like Ludus has a multimillion dollar budget or anything…”
“Well, we’re living in the lapels of luxury right now. Another room like this one and they’d be broke.”
“Oh, absolutely. That must be why they can’t afford a heater, either.”
Donghyuck laughs and decides that he likes her. “I’m Donghyuck. Lee Donghyuck.”
“Heejin. Heon Heejin.” Heejin flicks her thumb toward the other bunk bed and Donghyuck sees the other Trainee—also a girl—slumbering on the bottom bunk. “That’s Kim Hyunjin. We both came from the Third Base in Seoul… And no, before you ask, I didn’t meet Jeno-ssi until I got here.”
“I heard of you, though,” Jeno interjects. “You always placed in the top five for everything.”
Heejin beams and flicks her hair. “What can I say? I tried really hard.”
Donghyuck hobbles toward his bed, ignoring the way Heejin’s eyes track his movements, undoubtedly noticing his slight limp. He sits down on the lumpy mattress and decides that now is a good time to gauge his competition. “Top five? That’s impressive, Heejin-ssi. What position are you aiming for here?”
Heejin raises a single finger. “Numero uno, of course.”
Jeno gasps, surprised at her daring, but Donghyuck narrows his eyes. “So you came here to be a Flier?”
Heejin raises her chin. “And you, Donghyuck-ssi? Don’t tell me you came here to learn how to fly cargo.”
Donghyuck shrugs. “Maybe I did.”
“No,” Heejin decides after a moment’s pause, “I don’t think you did. I think you’re the same as me. I think you like being the best, and I think you’re planning on being the best here, too, but I don’t think you trust us enough to say that. Is that it?”
Humming, Donghyuck lies back on the mattress. Heejin reminds him of his grandmother—all-knowing and all-seeing, like a cat with nine lives and nine eyes, a cat that prowls through alleys and hides behinds corners, finding what hides in the shadows. Strangely enough, Donghyuck doesn’t mind. “You’re clever,” he says instead of affirming her observations. “I think we should team-up.”
“Just you two?”
The other girl trainee—Hyunjin—yawns and slips out of bed. She’s as short as Heejin, but she has a different air about her: cold and elegant, like a painted piece of porcelain hanging on an ornate wall inside of a teahouse. Then she flops on the floor beside Heejin, her mouth twisting into a pleased but slightly spaced out smile, and Donghyuck realizes that she’s not as cultivated or embellished as she looks.
“Of course not,” Heejin says, patting her head affectionately. “I’d never do anything without you, Hyunjin-ah.”
“Good,” Hyunjin says, “because I want in on this alliance.”
“Alliance?” Donghyuck says at the same time Heejin says, “Great idea, Hyujin-ah! We should definitely have an alliance.”
Donghyuck groans and closes his eyes.
“Hey,” Jeno says from above Donghyuck, “if you guys are all in it…Could I join, too?”
§§•§§
Donghyuck showers after everyone else, so that by the time he arrives back to their dorm room, all of the other Trainees are ready to go to breakfast. “Hang on,” Donghyuck says, drying his hair and sliding into his combat boots at the same time, “or—you know what, go on without me. “It’s fine, I’ll find the way on my own—”
“Don’t tempt fate, Donghyuck-ssi,” Hyunjin warns him, her hair tied back into a neat bun. “I said the same thing in the Third Base and accidentally ended up stuck in the janitorial closet. Heejin-ah had to break the door handle to get me out.”
“It’s true,” Heejin confirms, “but besides, we’re in an alliance, remember? We should wait for each other.”
Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “I remember.”
Jeno grabs his own towel and starts helping Donghyuck dry his hair. Which, well, fine. If he wants to be useful, Donghyuck isn’t going to stop him. “Why don’t you guys run to the Mess Hall and save us two spots?” Jeno suggests. “If we’re all late, the other Trainees will begin their anti-Omega tirades, and it’s only our first day…”
“Let them,” Donghyuck grumbles, knowing all too well how true Jeno’s words are. “If they want to fight, I’ll fight.”
Jeno squeezes his shoulders as if to say, Please, Donghyuck-ssi, calm down.
Donghyuck pinches Jeno’s waist. I am calm.
“Jeno-ssi is right,” Heejin sighs. “We need to set a good example to show the administration that Omegas belong here. Like it or not, it’s our responsibility to keep the door open for the next wave of Omega Trainees.”
Petulantly, Donghyuck thinks, It’s an ugly-ass door, though. Outwardly, he accepts defeat, nodding goodbye to Heejin and Hyunjin as they leave the dormitory. As soon as they’re gone, Jeno stops toweling Donghyuck and walks in front of him, acting as a human barrier. “What are you doing?” Donghyuck asks, irritated.
“I didn’t see you take your heat suppressants, Donghyuck-ssi.”
Donghyuck freezes.
“You also didn’t shower with me. I understand not wanting to shower in front of Hyunjin-ssi and Heejin-ssi, but why not me?”
“I’m a private person,” Donghyuck says, recovering. “I don’t like showering with other people and I especially don’t like it when people ask me pointless questions about my life.”
Donghyuck expects Jeno to look hurt, to step away as if he’s been burned. He expects to feel bad about it, too, because hurting an Omega as sweet and soft-spoken as Jeno is like kicking a newborn puppy in the face. He blinks, surprised, when Jeno curls his hand around Donghyuck’s shoulder and says, “It’s just that I’m concerned about you. We’ll be living together for an entire year—hopefully longer if we both pass onto the next stage of training—and I’d like us to be friends, Donghyuck-ssi. I think we’d be good friends, don’t you?”
Before Donghyuck presented as an Omega he used to have a bustling social life. Teachers adored him, his friends loved playing with him, and his grandmother coddled him. Everything was good until, one day, it wasn’t. It was almost as if the universe woke up and decided to fuck with Donghyuck, decided to treat his life like a car crash happening in slow motion. Things fell out of place and fires started where they shouldn’t and slowly, slowly, Donghyuck realized that he was bleeding on shards of broken glass. He has no idea if he’s still in the car, and until he knows, he can’t accept Jeno’s offer for companionship, no matter how tempting it is. (And it is so very tempting.)
“We have an alliance already, don’t we?” Donghyuck responds, pitching his voice so that it’s more casual than usual. “That should be enough.”
Jeno lets go of him. Now he looks hurt. “Donghyuck-ssi—”
“Let’s go, Jeno-ssi. We’ll be late for breakfast.”
Jeno doesn’t move.
“Jeno—”
“What about the heat suppressants?” Jeno asks. “You still haven’t told me why you didn’t take them this morning.”
“I did take one. I took it while you were asleep.”
“Prove it.”
“You want me to regurgitate it for you?”
“Show me the bottle.”
Donghyuck laughs harshly. “Are you gonna count each pill? Please. You don’t even know how many there are in each bottle.”
Jeno bows his head, looking defeated. “I’m just…I’m worried about you.”
Despite himself, Donghyuck feels a slight burning in his throat, the precursor to him losing his shit and doing something stupid, like crying. Pull yourself together, Lee Donghyuck. “Listen,” Donghyuck finds himself saying, clasping Jeno’s hand in his own, “if you’re really that worried about me, just give me your glass of orange juice during breakfast. I’m Vitamin C deficient.”
“Is this funny to you, Donghyuck-ssi?”
“A little bit.”
Jeno sighs, prolonged and heavy. “Fine. Fine, okay, I’ll share my breakfast with you, as long as you promise to give me something in return.”
Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. “What?”
Jeno bends his knees so that he is eye-to-eye with Donghyuck. If anyone else pulled this trick on Donghyuck, he would punch them, but Jeno doesn’t do it to boast or to prove a point—he does it because he wants to make Donghyuck feel secure, and because he is, at his core, a very nice person who does nice things for people without being asked. Donghyuck has known him for a day but he already knows that. “If something’s wrong—if something goes wrong, if you ever need help—I want you to promise you’ll come to me. And I’m not just saying this for your sake. I’m saying this because I feel alone right now and I want a friend, too, okay?”
Donghyuck takes a deep breath. He’s really adamant about this friendship thing, huh? “You’re not good at giving up, are you?”
Jeno squeezes his hand. “Wouldn’t have gotten here if I wasn’t.”
“Fair point.” Donghyuck hesitates, thinks about answering Jeno’s tacit question, but he can’t find it in himself to say no again. (Even though he should. He knows he should.) “Come on, we’re going to be seriously late if we don’t leave now. You can be stubborn at breakfast.”
§§•§§
The cafeteria used to be the palace’s throne-room. Now, the lotus-tiled patterns on the walls and the engraved flowers on the wooden columns are the only relics of the past that have remained. Everything else is shiny and brand new: sleek, black tables, a polished granite floor, and gleaming floor-to-ceiling windows. Donghyuck finds Heejin and Hyunjin sitting by themselves in the allocated Trainee section and tugs Jeno toward them. “We got you guys breakfast,” Heejin says, pointing at the two trays in front of her. “Rumor has it this is the only day we’ll be allowed to eat before training, so enjoy it while you can.”
Donghyuck thanks her and picks up his chopsticks. He almost drools as he starts digging into his portion of steaming white rice. Heejin also got him ox-tail soup, kimchi, slices of thin beef marinated in curry, and a bunch of side-dishes including seasoned cucumbers and black beans drowned in soy sauce.
“There’s fruit, too, but I couldn’t fit it into your trays,” Heejin says. “Oh, and remember to drink several glasses of water—our basic training starts today and it’s going to be a hell of a ride if we’re not all hydrated.”
“Oh my God,” Donghyuck says, swallowing his rice. “You’re the best mom I’ve ever had.”
Hyunjin beams. “Isn’t she such a good leader? I vote her to be president of our alliance.”
“I second that vote,” Jeno says, sounding as grateful as Donghyuck feels. “Thank you so much, Heejin-ssi.”
Heejin basks in the attention, looking pleased with herself. She’s definitely a cat, Donghyuck thinks, smiling to himself. “You’re welcome, guys! But let’s drop the formalities, alright? We’re all the same age, so just Heejin is fine.”
Jeno’s eyes crinkle into crescents. “Well, thank you, Just Heejin.”
Donghyuck chokes on his rice. Jeno claps him on the back good-naturedly, but before Donghyuck can start making fun of him for that super lame dad joke, oh my god, Heejin’s face pales and her mouth falls open.
“Oh god,” Heejin whispers, sounding both reverent and terrified. “The Fliers are here.”
Donghyuck gulps down some water and twists in his chair so that he’s facing the front of the cafeteria. Through the main doors, a group of Fliers walks in—no more than a dozen of them, tops—each carrying a tray of food, except they have actual plates and silverware instead of paper plates and plastic chopsticks.
“The Fliers are split into quads,” Heejin explains. She points at a Flier walking near the front of the pack. “That’s the head of the EXO team, Captain Kim Minseok—you guys have probably heard of him—he’s a living, breathing, walking icon —”
Donghyuck’s heart beats a little faster. He has heard of Kim Minseok. Everyone in South Korea—hell in East Asia; hell, in the world—has heard of Kim Minseok and his gutsy feats in the Battle of Hong Kong six years ago. Minseok had taken down three Acra, three demons, from the Rift in the South China Sea using a series of precisely triggered, microscopic nuclear explosions centered on the demons’ hearts. Without him, Hong Kong would have fallen and millions of people would have died.
He’s a hero.
And he’s eating in the same cafeteria as Donghyuck.
“The man beside him is—”
Hyunjin digs her elbow into Heejin’s side. “Forget men. Heejin-ah, look at her—”
Heejin drops her chopsticks and lets out the softest “ oh” Donghyuck has ever heard.
Donghyuck follows her gaze and recognizes the Flier. Kim Taeyeon. She’s the oldest female Flier in Ludus and the most, to borrow Heejin’s words, iconic. In her ten-year career she has had over one hundred certified kills, but Donghyuck guesses that her actual number of kills is much, much higher.
“She’s brilliant,” Heejin sighs. “She can do anything. I want to be her.”
Hyunjin steals a piece of Heejin’s meat. “You also want to be with her.”
Heejin does not dispute this point.
Jeno pokes Donghyuck, drawing his attention. “Hey,” he says, eye-smile on full blast, “do you have anyone you like?”
Donghyuck opens his mouth to mention a familiar name like Lee Jinki, leader of the SHINEE squadron, but then—almost as if the sea is parting—another Flier makes his way to the front of the group. Kim Minseok throws an arm around the Flier and ruffles his hair. When Donghyuck realizes who it is, he almost chokes on his food again.
“Do you know his name?” Donghyuck asks Heejin breathlessly, pointing in the direction of the Flier.
Heejin’s brow creases, but then she smiles triumphantly. “I do! That’s Mark Lee.”
Mark Lee.
Donghyuck mouths the name. It doesn’t… It doesn’t sound terrible.
“I haven’t heard of him before,” Jeno says, “but he doesn’t look very old.”
“That’s because he’s not.” Heejin forgoes eating and shoves her half-full tray toward Hyunjin, who begins to devour her ox-tail soup. “He’s one year older than us, but he’s supposed to be an ace.” Her voice lowers. “Some rumors about him spread around the Third Base last year. Apparently Ludus didn’t even make him compete against the other Trainees—they just promoted him to a Flier.”
It’s just a rumor, Donghyuck thinks. It’s just a rumor so he shouldn’t take it seriously but his body isn’t listening to his mind. He feels that familiar heavy weight settling inside of his chest—and he knows that’s envy—but there’s another feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if he’s being squeezed between two stones. It surprises him. More importantly, he’s surprised that he’s surprised, because that means a part of him cares about the Flier’s history—but no, that’s ridiculous. He’s not invested. He doesn’t care.
“He doesn’t even look that special,” Donghyuck mutters more to himself than to anyone at the table.
As if he can hear Donghyuck—even though he can’t, even though he shouldn’t be able to, not when Donghyuck had spoken so softly, not when half the Cafeteria is in an uproar over the sudden appearance of the Fliers—Mark Lee looks over his shoulder. He catches sight of their table. He catches sight of Donghyuck. He slows down.
Oh no.
For a second, Donghyuck is afraid he’ll do something stupid, like go over to him and say hi, but Mark just stares. Stares and stares and stares . Until Donghyuck is squirming in his seat, wanting to hide under the table, even though he hasn’t done that since elementary school, because Mark Lee’s gaze is stupidly intense, stupidly scrutinizing, as if Donghyuck is a complicated equation that he needs to figure out, and if he keeps up this staring, someone else is going to notice. And Donghyuck doesn’t need that. He already has a target on his back, a big fat bulls-eye, the kind that comes with being one of the only Omegas in Ludus, and that’s hard enough to deal with on its own. Focus on someone else, Donghyuck thinks desperately, shoulders shrinking in a futile effort to sink into the table. Focus on some stupid, brawny Alpha who’ll preen at the attention, not me.
“Why is he looking at us—”
“You’re pretty,” Donghyuck tells Jeno, the words tumbling out of his mouth. “I’m sure you’re his type, that’s probably why.”
“He was looking at you, though.”
“I’m sitting next to you,” Donghyuck points out.
“Then why are you sweating?”
Sweating? He’s sweating? Donghyuck touches the back of his neck and groans when he realizes Jeno’s right. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” insists Donghyuck, anyway, and shovels a piece of bulgogi in his mouth before Jeno can ask him another embarrassing question.
“He left,” Heejin comments. “He’s sitting with Kim Minseok now. They’re at the high table.” She squints. “Oh, hold on. They’re all standing up now—I think someone’s going to make a speech.”
“Who?” Hyunjin asks.
“I don’t know. I don’t recognize him.”
Probably just an administrator. Donghyuck dips his bulgogi into soy sauce and works on returning his heartbeat into its normal rhythm. Thump-thump-thump. Thump-thump-thump.
“I heard someone say he’s from the Fifth Base,” Jeno says. “Donghyuck-ssi, do you know him by any chance?”
“Nope,” Donghyuck says although doesn’t bother looking.
Thump-thump-thump.
“Wait, someone else is going up, too—”
“Good morning,” a woman’s voice announces. “My name is Cha Nayoung and I am the Director of Operational Services in Ludus. First, I would like to congratulate all of the Trainees in this room right now. Collectively, you all had the highest tactical scores in the country. You are the brightest, the bravest, and the best that South Korea has to offer to Project Thunderstrike.”
Food is Donghyuck’s priority, but he tries to listen to what she’s saying, too. Director Cha explains that Project Thunderstrike was initiated by the UN over twelve years ago when the first Rift, or opening, appeared in the Atlantic Ocean. After monsters emerged from the opening and attacked New York City, and then Toronto, the rest of the world cooperated to fight the monsters, called the Acra in Korea. Thunderstrike’s most pressing goal is to combat any Acra attacks by training soldiers to use Navi technology—technology that allows them to fly in the highest depths of the atmosphere and swim in the darkest corners of the ocean—in order to destroy the demons.
Donghyuck has to stifle a yawn. It’s not a bad speech, but it’s nothing he doesn’t already know.
“We know the Acra come from the Rifts in the skies and in the oceans,” she says and at this point, Donghyuck is barely listening, “and while we don’t know why these Rifts appeared—or where the Acra are from originally—what I can say with complete certainty is that, without Project Thunderstrike, without Ludus, and without the soldiers sitting in front of me right now, millions of people would have died. Our societies, our ways of life, would have crumbled.”
She pauses for a round of applause.
“Trainees, I am proud to say that our dedication to serving our country continues with our latest appointee. This Alpha belongs to a valorous and courageous family who he has honored by serving in the military for over ten years. Not only that, Trainees, but he spent an entire year volunteering as a basic military instructor in Incheon—”
Donghyuck’s heart skips a beat.
(Thump-thump-THUMP—)
“—devoting himself to teaching his students—”
No, there’s no way—
“Donghyuck-ssi?” Jeno murmurs, concerned, but his voice is faraway.
“—and as a result of his efforts, for the first time in the history of Ludus, we have more Trainees from Incheon than from any other province in the country! This Alpha’s teaching style is legendary. In fact, we believe it is legend-making.”
(THUMP-THUMP-THUMP—)
“Donghyuck,” Jeno says more urgently. “Donghyuck, are you okay?”
I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine I’m—
“Trainees, I am proud to present to you the newly-appointed Director of First-Year Training, the man who we believe will propel you to further excellence…”
(THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP—)
Jeno tugs at his shoulder, but Donghyuck can’t feel anything. “Do you need to go to the bathroom? Do you want me to take you?”
“…Director Park Junghwa.”
Donghyuck’s shoulder burns. A faint burning. A phantom pain.
He doesn’t have to open his eyes to know what Park Jungwha looks like.
It’s embedded in his memory: a photograph he can’t get rid of. A memory that won’t disappear. Tall. Cropped black hair. He wears gloves on both hands and only drinks imported scotch. His breath always smells like scotch, too, and his gloves are always warm. Too warm.
“Hey,” Jeno whispers in his ear, still grasping Donghyuck’s shoulder, “hey, I’m here. We’re here.”
Other voices chiming in the mix. Heejin and Hyunjin, probably.
For a second, the voices of his roommates break through—like a singular lucid note shining through an uncoordinated symphony—but then Park Junghwa speaks and his voice is exactly like Donghyuck remembered it.
And the note is lost. And Donghyuck is lost.
“Thank you for the warm welcome, Director Cha. And thank you for the applause, Trainees.” Park Junghwa pauses. “Before I would like to begin, there are people close to my heart here who I would like to greet. And those are my Trainees from Incheon.” A longer pause. “Hello, friends. Didn’t I say we would meet again?”