Chapter Text
What people don’t understand about light, is that it doesn’t mean the absence of darkness - it only means that darkness closely follows.
Sehun knows this viscerally, has seen Baekhyun light up a room just by walking into it, has felt his warmth, reveled in his infectious delight, has experienced first hand the blessing it feels like to be in his presence.
Sehun has seen, also, the darkness that follows him. It used to surprise Sehun, the level of ruthlessness Baekhyun could execute when needed, how heavy handed he could be against those that posed a threat to them and what they stood for. It’s why he’d been chosen for the mission, to go undercover and infiltrate the ranks of the Red Force. Light could be manipulated in any which way and Baekhyun held its power in the palm of his hands. He’d do what needed to be done. He’d be their inside man, their undercover guy, going in deep to suss out the enemy’s plans and strike when they were the most vulnerable.
And everything had worked out, gone so well that no one realized the light had succumbed to the darkness until it was too late.
Sehun himself doesn’t realize it until he’s bleeding out with an arrow in his chest, an arrow he himself had shot, his target an abomination with his face, his body, his abilities. He’d shot arrow after arrow until his quiver was empty, the floor littered with his attempts and still, the other him had only sat, unblinking as every arrow was deflected, pushed back and directed with power that should have been his- that was his, but refused to listen.
And when at last he’d landed a shot, it was to the horrible realization that the sudden, sharp pain he saw on his doppelgängers face was the same one he was feeling in his own chest. He’d staggered back, dumbfounded, mind reeling. Things weren’t adding up.
This felt too much like an ambush, not a rescue mission.
Around him, the others are scattered, locked in their own battles. Chanyeol’s fire is searing hot to his left, embers flying and sparks exploding as Chanyeol battles with another abomination with his same face, wielding flames as easily as Chanyeol ever has. Beneath him is soaked with Junmyeon’s water, a flood that mixes with his blood, and if he turns his head he can see his leader struggling with a devil in red, Junmyeon’s handsome features twisted into something furious, deranged.
Sehun doesn’t understand how they ended up this way, how all their carefully laid plans had become nothing but a convoluted mess, doomed to fail right from the beginning. He staggers through the wreckage and the rubble, trying to put as much distance between him and the whistle of a building tempest battering at his back. Sehun knows they’re losing. They are too misinformed - whether by accident or deliberately - they have to leave. They have to get out of here. They have to -
“Where are you going, Hunnie?” The tempest whistles into his ear before slamming into his back and shoving him face first into a wall. “We aren’t done here yet.”
The first time Sehun wakes up, it’s to a sharp pain in his chest and a warm body glued to his side. He moves to get up but the arm slung across his torso tightens around him, followed by a surge of heat and the slight ebbing of the pain. He gasps in relief, laying back against the warmth at his side like a puppet with its strings cut.
Gentle hands stroke at his waist, coming up slowly to lay a palm over the muted throbbing just below his clavicle.
“Take it easy, Sehun-ah,” Yixing’s familiar dulcet tenor whispers from where it's pressed into his shoulder. He shifts, slips an arm under Sehun’s neck to wrap Sehun more firmly in his embrace. Soft lips and butterfly kisses along his temple and in his hair radiate tendrils of warmth until Sehun feels both light and heavy, body weighed down but mind filled with cotton.
“Hyung,” he whines groggily, attempting to bat Yixing’s soothing hands away but ending up with their fingers laced together instead. There are questions he wants to ask, why are you here? What happened? What’s going on? Why does it-
“You need to rest,” Yixing murmurs, bringing their intertwined fingers up to his face and leaving another kiss to Sehun’s knuckles. Another wave of warmth at the press of his lips has Sehun biting back a whimper, pain relief and the shadow of pleasure threatening to pull him under.
“But- hyung,” Sehun tries to argue, eyelids fluttering uselessly even as Yixing twines their legs together and presses Sehun’s face into his neck.
“Rest,” Yixing commands softly, and Sehun has no choice but to follow.
The second time he wakes up, Sehun is simultaneously burning up and racked with cold.
He’s shaking from the inside, bones clattering, freezing, even as sweat beads along his brow, eyelids feeling hot. He feels weak, his mouth dry, that sharp, excruciating pain in his chest making it so hard to breathe. He tries to move but finds that he can’t, too weak to do more than lift his head up; even that small movement is enough to have him biting back a cry of pain.
At the sound, someone is at his bedside immediately, Jongin appearing silently, with only the subtle displacement of air to herald his arrival. He’s awake, he hears Jongin call out, the words sounding far away before Jongin lays hands on him.
“Don’t try to move,” Jongin murmurs, carding fingers through Sehun’s damp hair. Sehun groans at the coolness of his hand. “You’re hurt.”
“What-“ Sehun tries to speak but his mouth is too dry to form the words, throat clicking, parched. Jongin has to wet his lips with a sponge prepared on a bedside table before he can continue. “What’s going on? What happened?”
Jongin doesn’t answer right away, and Sehun doesn’t have it in him to analyze his silence.
“There was a mission,” Jongin starts, cupping Sehun’s face with his blessedly cool hands. “Do you remember any of it, Sehun-ah?”
A mission? Sehun can’t think, can barely form a coherent thought with the way the heat feels like its trying to melt his brain. Only Jongin’s gentle thumbs smoothing across his cheeks keeps him focused. “Hurts, Nini,” Sehun whimpers, words slurring over the pet name Jongin hates anywhere else outside the confines of a closed bedroom door.
It’s more telling - the way Jongin doesn’t bother to tell him off - exactly how serious things are even if Sehun knows he’s probably too delirious to fully understand.
“It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay,” Jongin says, leaning over to press his lips against Sehun’s eyelids, first the right, and then the left. It’s a measure of comfort, the last thing Sehun remembers before the fever claims him again and the world goes dark.
The next time Sehun wakes, it’s to a needle in his arm and a vigil at his bedside.
He still feels hot, like there’s a heat just waiting to bubble over right under the surface of his skin but at least it’s no longer unbearable, tempered now by the cool fluid he feels seeping slowly through the needle and into his veins. It’s still hot though, and the heat feels like it’s concentrated in his chest and in one hand.
“Hyung,” Sehun croaks, not even needing to open his eyes to know who is holding one of his hands like it’s a life line. He tries to pull away from the sweaty grip, but the heat radiating like waves off the other man almost doubles, his touch becoming scorching instead of just uncomfortable. “Ah-”
“Fuck- I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Abruptly his hand is dropped and the sound of a chair scraping over tiles is loud in the otherwise quiet room.
Other voices, it’s okay, it’s okay, you didn’t mean to.
I- I can’t control it, fuck- Kyungsoo, why can’t I-
“Hey,” familiar hands smooth along the side of his face, claiming his attention. “How do you feel, Sehun-ah?”
Sehun grunts in reply, willing his eyes to open just a little farther than slits, for his mouth to form more than one word replies. It’s difficult though, and his struggle is apparent, pain lancing through him at the slightest movement.
A palm over the terrible ache at his chest soothes him instantly, enough to muster enough strength to turn and attempt to focus hazy eyes in the direction of the voices.
There are others behind him, but Yixing takes up most of his view, leaning in close to lay hands on him, his touch keeping the pain at bay. His gaze is soft when their eyes meet, though this close Sehun can tell he looks almost as bad as Sehun feels, smudges of purple underneath his eyes, exhaustion so apparent he looks gaunt with it.
“You’re back,” Sehun manages a whisper, the words rough, his mouth and throat not quite ready to work together.
“Yeah, long time no see,” Yixing says just as softly, pressing the words onto the back of Sehun’s hand, the stinging burn that had been there melting away with the touch of his lips. “You’ve been causing trouble while I’ve been away.”
“Didn’t mean to,” Sehun sighs, tired all of a sudden. It’s frustrating, the way his body won’t listen to him, won’t stay awake just a little longer to ask the questions that have been nagging at him in his barely lucid moments. “What’s- going on? Why does-“ he has to stop to catch his breath, “-everything hurt?”
He’s not asking about the pain, it’s painfully obvious he’s been injured, but he doesn’t understand how it still hurts; it shouldn’t, not if he’s been under Yixing’s care, which is clear he’s been for days now if Yixing looks like death warmed over.
“We’re still trying to figure that out,” he says. “You really did a number on yourself this time around.”
“Wasn’t me,” Sehun says, eyes fluttering as his brows furrowed with an echo of a memory, a face- his face? A face like his? Someone who looked like him? The high pitched whistling of the wind but not his- not him- not his arrow- not-
“Hey, calm down,” Yixing leans over so their foreheads touch, petting his hair and stroking his face until Sehun’s head feels like it’s filled with cotton once again, everything hazy, all concrete thought going liquid at the touch of Yixing’s lips against his.
Sehun sighs into the kiss, pain becoming a distant memory when his chin is tilted for a better angle and he can’t help but gasp as the heavy pressure in his chest that had been stealing his breath just disappears, making his next inhale easy. It’s the last thing he remembers before succumbing to sweet oblivion.
Days go by and Sehun is only vaguely aware of them passing; his moments of consciousness are littered with pain, a never-ending intensity, hot and sharp in his chest. He’s awake in these moments long enough to be told he’s been hurt, that took an arrow to the chest in their last mission and the injury is infected. When standard medicine hadn’t seemed to be working, Yixing had come home, called away from his own commitments and long-standing responsibilities in the foreign branch of their organization to lend a helping hand.
As glad as he is for the reunion, there’s something else they aren’t telling him and he’d be a fool not to notice that - even despite Yixing’s efforts - he isn’t getting better.
“No,” He grits his teeth against the pain when he struggles to sit up. “Don’t touch me.”
“Sehun-ah,” Yixing pleads softly. “Let me help you.”
“No,” he says through heaving, ragged breaths, waving the older man away when he attempts to reach for him again. “Not until you tell me what’s going on. Why am I-“ he has to pause several seconds for a wave of nausea accompanying the pain to pass before he can go on. “Why am I not healing?”
Sehun almost regrets the question when Yixing simply looks torn in the silence that follows, an anguished expression before he can school his face into something less troubled a moment later. Sehun catches it only because he needs a distraction from the fire ignited in his chest, choosing to hyper focus on his hyung instead.
“Let me get the others,” Yixing says softly. “They’ll explain to you what’s happening, but- at least let me make you comfortable, okay?”
Sehun is in no position to decline, not when just the act of sitting up has literally robbed him of his breath and darkness dots his vision.
“Not too much,” he protests weakly - stubbornly.
Yixing sighs but does as he asks, placing a gentle hand over the wound on his chest, the blessed warmth of his touch just enough to take the edge off the pain so Sehun can breathe, so he can think without worrying about passing out.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, after making sure Sehun is comfortable.
Sehun nods tersely, fighting off the wave of exhaustion that threatens to overcome him with all the exertion. He has a few minutes to take stock of his body and his surroundings for the first time since he’d been awake on and off. He finds it strange that he’s in a make-shift infirmary and not in the hospital wing of the main headquarters, even though he could have sworn he’d been there at one point. He has flashes of a memory, the sound of beeping, the prick of needles, and the smell of antiseptic unmistakable, so it can’t have been just a fever dream.
Before he can follow that train of thought though, Yixing comes back, Junmyeon and Minseok at his heels.
“Where’s everyone else?” He asks when they get close enough.
Yixing pointedly sits at the end of the bed, not touching, but near enough to wrap fingers around Sehun’s ankle, just in case. Junmyeon and Minseok flank Sehun on either side; Junmyeon takes the seat next to the bed, reaching for Sehun’s pale hand automatically. Minseok settles next to him, slipping an arm behind him and over his shoulders so that Sehun half leans against his chest. Yixing’s fleeting touch on his ankle makes the repositioning bearable, as is the coolness of his hyungs’ hands. Water and ice personified, their hands are soothing on his fever-addled body, a balm to the simmering heat threatening to boil over just underneath his skin.
“What do you remember?” Junmyeon probes him gently about their last mission.
“It was supposed to be a simple raid. Chanyeol hyung and I-,” Sehun starts, brows deepening into a furrow as he tries to gather his thoughts. “There was some intel about Red Force fugitives holed up with a local gang. Then we got a message over the comms. An SOS. Baekhyun hyung, he- he had his cover blown or something. So we all went instead.”
Sehun shifts in Minseok’s embrace, chest aching something fierce. “When we got there it was-” easy. Way too easy.
Dispersing the local gang members had been child’s play, most of them green, too young and nothing like the experienced, hardened criminals they’d been expecting. Deeper and deeper into the building they’d gone, encountering less and less people. Then, the lights had cut out suddenly and the prickling sense of foreboding Sehun had felt all throughout the operation sky-rocketed. They were enveloped in total darkness, the kind that ate up all the light, not even the night vision of their weapons could penetrate it. And Baekhyun, he’d been there all right.
Baekhyun had been there, along with someone who looked just like him.
Then, out of the darkness had come the others. Then, it was chaos.
Around him, the others are scattered, locked in their own battles. Chanyeol’s fire is searing hot to his left, embers flying and sparks exploding as Chanyeol battles with another abomination with his same face, wielding flames as easily as Chanyeol ever has. Beneath him is soaked with Junmyeon’s water, a flood that mixes with his blood, and if he turns his head he can see his leader struggling with a devil in red, Junmyeon’s handsome features twisted into something furious, deranged.
The crackle of electricity that burned, the bite of frost that stung, the quaking of the earth beneath his feet had felt threatening. The energy his hyungs had wielded felt foreign, corrupted. Aimed to cause more than just pain, but to inflict maximum damage.
Then of course, there was the wind.
“Where are you going, Hunnie? We aren’t done here yet.”
He flinches at the memory, at the sound of the whistling tempest that refused to be commanded, that bent to the will of another.
Minseok’s arms tighten around his shoulders, and he presses Sehun’s face into his neck until Sehun feels grounded again, back in the present and no longer gripped by the memories seared into the back of his eyelids, overwhelming and too real now that he’s conscious long enough to face them.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” his eldest hyung whispers against the top of his head. “You’re here. You’re safe now.”
“Everyone else is okay,” Junmyeon reassures him with a squeeze of his hand. “You got the worst of it.”
Sehun squeezes back in return. “What’s wrong with me? Yixing hyung is here, but I’m not healing at all, am I? This - ” he gestures at the wound in his chest. “ - it's getting worse, isn’t it?”
Yixing curls fingers around his ankle without any power, just the heat of his palm. Gravely, he says, “It’s under control. But yes, it could be much, much worse.”
“But, why?” Sehun asks, wiggling his toes under Yixing’s forearm. “Is it poison?”
Yixing shakes his head and nods at Junmyeon. “We have a theory.”
Junmyeon sighs, deep and burdened. He avoids Sehun’s gaze. Only after an extended moment of silence does he answer. “We think…that there might be connection. Between us and. Them.”
Them. Junmyeon fills the word with such intense emotion Sehun can feel him vibrate with it, barely contained power and energy held back only by the hold he has on Sehun’s hand.
“What does that mean?”
“It means, Sehun-ah, that you aren’t healing because the other you is hurt too,” Minseok answers. “He’s hurt and it's possible they don’t have a Yixing to fix the damage.”
“How?” He asks, “Why? What are they? Aliens? Clones?”
“We don’t know yet,” Junmyeon says, and it's obvious it pains him to answer with such uncertainty. “But there’s only one way to find out, and the others are already working on it.”
“You’re going to try catching them, aren’t you?” Sehun gasps when it dawns on him. “And bringing them here? That’s why we aren’t at the main base. Because they gave a kill order but we- can’t. Won’t- kill them.” He twists his fingers in Junmyeon’s hand in agitation and Minseok rubs soothingly at his shoulder. “Are we fugitives? Deserters? Have we gone rogue?”
“Not quite,” Junmyeon says, “But we have to be careful. The director wouldn’t answer any of my questions during the debrief, as if others walking around with our faces and our powers was more a nuisance than an actual problem.”
“Fishy,” Sehun agrees, tired again. He feels a headache coming on. “What’s the plan, then?”
Junmyeon sighs again, this time a little more fondly, pressing his lips against Sehun’s knuckles and reaching out to run fingers through his hair. “You let us worry about that. For now, don’t be stubborn and let Yixing help you feel better.”
Sehun wrinkles his nose, eyes drooping. “He looks awful.”
“Brat,” Yixing pinches the back of his knee, just enough to sting. Sehun nudges him in the stomach with his toes.
“He’s not the one with a hole in his chest,” Minseok says, tweaking Sehun’s nose. “Be a good boy and listen to your hyung.”
Sehun hums noncommittally. “Stay with me until I fall asleep,” he demands, already halfway there.
A chorus of yeses helps him the rest of the way.
The following days are a cycle of fever dreams and more pain, almost as if awareness of a possible connection between his body and the other him has made everything worse. There’s a needle in his arm again, pumping him full of fluid, and through it all Yixing becomes a constant presence. His hyung gets a needle in his arm too because it's obvious, even in Sehun’s delirium, that the constant healing energy he’s using is taking its toll.
Guilt starts to plague his waking hours just as much as the pain does. The worst part of it is the relief from agony isn’t something he can bring himself to turn down. He hurts too much, ripped out of unconsciousness too often, his body seized, gripped, and tormented by unseen forces out of his control. He doesn’t fight it when Yixing sidles up to him, wrapping him up in an embrace he’s too weak to turn away. He clings greedily, anything to soothe the flames that lick at his insides and burn away his rational thought. He sobs at every cool touch, whimpering into it, seeking it out. More often than not he’s answered with whispered promises, hushed reassurances pressed against his forehead, his cheeks, the stretch of skin behind his ear. He can’t always comprehend the words, but the tone is enough to provide him a comfort physical touch cannot.
He’s not alone. His hyungs are still there. They’ll take care of him.
Darkness.
A black so deep it can’t be natural.
Breath.
Light and easy, unhindered.
Empty.
No bones, no blood, just space.
These are the first things he registers, tendrils of conscious thought not quite concrete, more like an intangible awareness of where and what. He’s not quite there either, wherever here is. But slowly, slowly, he’s aware of a who. Him. He’s a who and there- there! Another who. Another him.
A frisson of alarm ripples through the impenetrable darkness, an echo of warning, but he can’t hold onto it so it slips away just as quickly as it had appeared. Nothing happens. He and him, they float there in the darkness and not quite empty space, unaware of time or its passing. No pain. No heat.
The thought causes another ripple to disturb the darkness, this time radiating curiosity.
They are both here and nothing happens.
Hm.
The thought slips away again and just like before he doesn’t go chasing after it. Neither does the other him. They float there, barely whispers of smoke, together in the vast nothingness, enveloped in the absence of light and it feels right somehow, to occupy the same space. Here, in the darkness, they are made up of twin atoms - he and him, they are one and the same.
That thought stays.
That thought stays and takes root, forms other thoughts, concrete thoughts, thoughts that grow until he is more than a who, he’s Sehun. He’s Sehun and for the first time in a long time it doesn’t hurt to breathe. With the awareness, the darkness recedes and he’s able to appreciate the softness of a bed under him, being wrapped in cool sheets, his face tucked into a firm chest, pressed against a warm body not his own.
He revels in that, in the ability to feel more than just pain. He wiggles his fingers and points his toes, shifting around, smoothing his hands up and down a muscled flank, his palms tingling.
“Hey,” a deep voice rumbles in the chest, his ear is pressed against. “Where do you think you’re touching, Oh Sehun?”
The words are accompanied by calloused fingers tugging at his hair and then smoothing over his forehead again and again until Sehun hums in contentment. He sighs, hugging the compact body tighter against his.
“Feeling better?” Kyungsoo asks, the words barely above a whisper. He presses his palm against Sehun’s forehead for a second before continuing to stroke his hair. “Your fever broke last night and hasn’t come back. It's the longest you’ve slept without waking up out of your mind with pain.”
Sehun nods. “Sore,” he says, shrugging a stiff shoulder and wincing at the slight ache in his chest. “Better.”
“Good.”
They cuddle a little longer before Kyungsoo sits him up to drink and then helps him into the adjacent bathroom. He’s still weak but he draws the line at letting Kyungsoo past the bathroom door, determined to take a shower and brush his teeth on his own. He catches a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror and grimaces at his reflection.
Predictably, he looks like shit. He looks just as weak as he feels, his skin pale and almost sallow looking. There are bruises under his eyes, and patchy stubble along his jawline. His collarbones stick out more prominently under the unforgiving, harsh light of the bathroom and it's obvious he’s lost weight, even without the loose shirt and sweatpants hanging off him. Then, Sehun has to force himself to look at the wound in his chest.
There’s a clean bandage over it and he gingerly peels off one corner to take a look. It's not a huge gaping hole like it had felt it was, still a little inflamed around the edges but there’s nothing oozing and it doesn’t look raw. Looking at it right now, he’s had worse wounds on the job, but it throbs a little the more he stares at it, so he quickly covers up again before getting to work on cleaning up. He uses the toilet and brushes his teeth quickly, not wanting to lose steam before he can get in the shower. The shower itself is refreshing even if he has to call Kyungsoo in half way through to help him scrub his back.
Back in the bedroom, Kyungsoo’s changed the sheets on the bed and laid out a light meal of broth and a few side dishes, accompanied by various pills on a tray on the side table. “Be a good boy and drink your medicine,” Kyungsoo says sternly when Sehun makes a face. Sehun makes another face and rolls his eyes at the teasing, but eats and drinks dutifully.
“Where is he?” he asks when he’s swallowed a few spoonfuls of broth. He’s really not that hungry, even if his stomach feels hollow and empty.
The way Kyungsoo goes abruptly still is strange, the movement of the spoon in his bowl pauses before stirring again in slow, very deliberate circles. There’s a hard look on his face when he asks, “Who?”
“He’s here, isn’t he? The other me? That’s why I’m suddenly feeling better?” He says, not sure what to make of Kyungsoo’s expression. His brow smooths out a little at the mention of Sehun’s other self.
Kyungsoo nods. “He’s with Yixing, on the opposite side of the compound. There were some...security issues so we thought it best to keep you both separate.”
“What do you mean?” Sehun asks, and they’ve both basically abandoned their food altogether.
Kyungsoo shrugs, setting his bowl aside to cross his arms across his chest, muscles straining fabric in a pose that’s decidedly closed off. He avoids Sehun’s gaze when he answers. “It was a challenge to get him here. There was a fight and it wasn’t pretty. He’s not here alone.”
“Who else is with him?”
“Two of them. The one who looks like Jongin is named Kai, and Jongdae’s look alike said to call him Chen. They have the same abilities.”
“What are they like?” Sehun asks, curious, stirring the liquid in his bowl idly.
Kyungsoo takes his time before answering. “Dangerous,” he finally decides. “Powerful,” he adds.
“But…” He trails off with a small sigh, eyes intense and burning with an unreadable expression when he reaches for Sehun, runs a calloused hand through his shower damp hair. “When they fought, it was a fight to get their Sehun here, so I guess that counts for something.”
Sehun wants to ask how that went, wants details about the days he’s missed, wants to know everything that’s happened since he’s been out of commission but there’s something in Kyungsoo’s expression. Something else, something more pressing that he doesn’t know, that Kyungsoo isn’t saying.
“What is it?” Sehun asks, “What’s wrong? What aren’t you telling me?”
The silence that follows is both deafening and unmistakable. A stone sinks in Sehun’s hollow stomach, a heavy, uncomfortable feeling that makes him tired all of a sudden, an exhaustion of the mind more than the body.
“Finish your food and drink the rest of your medicine and then we’ll talk about it,” Kyungsoo says after a while, sliding over the last medicine cup filled with a thick green liquid.
Sehun doesn’t have it in him to argue, lifting the spoon to his mouth mechanically until his bowl and all the medicine cups are empty. He feels nauseous, the small, simple meal churning in his stomach. The wound in his chest aches. He looks at Kyungsoo expectantly.
“You said there was a fight. Is everyone okay?”
“Everyone is fine,” Kyungsoo answers, but the way he hesitates on the last word fills Sehun with a sense of foreboding, makes him glad he’s already sitting in bed, what with the way his chest throbs suddenly. Kyungsoo misses his wince, still not quite looking him in the eye. “It was a mess after the last mission, especially when you got hurt and we realized you weren’t healing. We had to call Yixing but he couldn’t get here fast enough and for a second we thought—” Kyungsoo has to pause to clear his throat, words catching. Sehun reaches for his hand, squeezes it. “It was bad, Sehun-ah,” he continues quietly, eyes downcast. “You were losing a lot of blood and even when Junmyeon was able to stop it,” Kyungsoo shakes his head almost as if to clear the memory. “There was so much fighting going on we didn’t realize you’d gone down and hadn’t gotten back up until it was almost too late. We tried to retreat but they, the - clones? We don’t know what they are exactly, yet - they kept on attacking. Junmyeon got you out while the rest of us stayed behind to cover, but - ”
Kyungsoo exhales sharply through his nose, expression morphing into one of anger and Sehun’s growing sense of foreboding reaches a boiling point.
“But what?” Sehun asks, heart pounding. “I don’t understand. You said everyone was fine.”
“There’s no easy way to say this,” Kyungsoo starts. “And I didn’t want to be the one to tell you but I also don’t agree with how they’ve kept this information from you for this long. You’re injured, not an invalid.”
Kyungsoo reaches for him again, sits close and takes one of Sehun’s hands in his, the other curled around his nape in a gesture of solidarity maybe, or of comfort. Sehun braces himself for impact.
“Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo utters his name like a curse, “He lied to us, faked that call and set us up that night. Now he’s gone.”
Kyungsoo leaves when Sehun asks him to.
He doesn’t ask Sehun if he’s sure, doesn’t putter around or look for excuses to stay. He doesn’t even hesitate at the doorway. He just gets up, gathers all the dishes and does as Sehun asks.
When he’s gone, Sehun hobbles his way back into the bathroom and bruises his knees when he goes down, promptly retching into the toilet.
The force of his heaving is disproportionate to the meager contents of his stomach, robbing him of breath and making his head spin as pain radiates from the wound on his chest. Darkness dots his peripheral vision and he fights to keep his eyes focused, leaning against the porcelain for what seems like an eternity before the pain passes. When he can move again, he needs another shower, smelling like sick and feeling like it too.
It takes nearly all of his strength to get clean again but he manages, the only casualty being the soaked bandage on his chest. He peels the adhesive off with trembling fingers, hands fumbling for the package of clean gauze he’d found in a first aid kit under the sink. He doesn’t even bother to assess the wound further, unable to focus on anything other than the harsh sound of his panting, breath coming in aborted gasps.
The longer he’s up and about, the more he feels like the world is spinning, his chest burdened with an invisible weight. Less stabbing and more heavy, but just as painful. The agony of Baekhyun’s betrayal, the sting of being kept in the dark - all of it makes him want to be sick again. Nausea threatens to overtake him but he fights against it, deep breaths in and out until he feels safe enough to move away from the sink.
Back in the bedroom, he’s surprised to find that he’s no longer alone.
“Who—” he staggers back, trying to put distance between him and the intruder, but the sudden movement causes pain to shoot all across the left side of his chest again. He doesn’t get very far and any space he puts between them would be pointless anyway.
“So you’re the airbender,” the trespasser grins from where he’s sprawled over the bed. “You don’t look so good.” With a muffled pop and a ripple of air, he’s closer, leaning into Sehun’s space and peering up at him with eerie, mismatched eyes. Without a doubt, this must be Kai. “Maybe you should lay down.”
Before Sehun can react, the man with Jongin’s face taps him on the chest.
With a broken gasp, the world dissolves around them and for a moment, Sehun feels weightless, his very existence drawn out and scattered into a million fractured pieces, hurtling past bright lights and rainbows. He doesn’t have time to breathe or become dizzy because in a wink he’s whole again, the atoms of his body bypassing space and time to reconstruct itself horizontally on the bed.
His stomach rebels as soon as his head hits the pillow. With another ripple of air he’s turned on his side and his head aimed at a basin seemingly pulled out of thin air.
He dry heaves into it, his stomach with nothing left to give except bile and the lingering weight of anxiety that refuses to leave.
“Gross,” Kai says, wrinkling his nose. The expression is so odd on his face – Jongin’s face really, both familiar and not - that Sehun doesn’t know how to feel. Kai’s hands are steady on his back though, and he doesn’t move away when Sehun has to duck his head again when his stomach rolls. He even hands Sehun a damp towel and a glass of water afterward, blinking in and out from beside the bed as if he couldn’t be bothered to walk.
“What do you want?” Sehun asks curtly, trying to inject more venom, more caution, something, into his tone. He knows he’s failing when Kai smirks, the same infuriating one he’s seen on Jongin’s face a million times, and effortlessly pushes him to lay back down onto the bed. “How did you even –” he stops himself before he can continue, realizing how dumb it would sound to ask this man how he got in.
Kai just grins, cocking his head and watching Sehun curiously. His gaze is unnerving, his mismatched eyes - one shifting from green to blue and the other just pupil - roam over Sehun’s face slowly, methodically, as if trying to parse out every detail.
He reaches out, and Sehun would pull back if he had anywhere to go, but he’s already propped up against the headrest in some pretense of defiance. He can only lay there, jaws clenched as the other man traces down the right side of his face, from his brow and down his right eye and cheek. His fingers are calloused but surprisingly gentle. Sehun fights the urge to turn his head away, not wanting to show any more weakness than he already has.
“Hm,” Kai hums, as if considering. “You really do look alike. I wonder if all of you looks the same.”
“What- ”Sehun starts, alarmed, but before he can continue there’s a commotion outside his door, loud footsteps and yelling. They glance at the door at the same time.
“Whoops, looks like it’s time to go. Bye Sehunnie.” With a wink and another infuriating smirk, he disappears.
“Fuck- ”
“Where is he?”
“Are you okay? Did he come in here? Did he hurt you?”
One by one they burst through his door. Chanyeol is there first, eyes wild, with a heat that follows him the moment he steps into the room. He stops abruptly at the entrance and Jongdae and Kyungsoo have to push him out of the way to get inside.
“Sehun-ah, are you okay?” Jongdae asks, rushing to the bedside. “That Kai. Was he here? Did he hurt you?”
Yes, he was here. No he didn’t hurt me, Sehun thinks, suddenly, irrationally, overwhelmed. He shakes his head and gestures vaguely to the basin still on the floor.
Jongdae curves a hand against the side of his face, fingers rubbing at his ear, his gaze earnest, concerned. “He, what? What happened? He was here, wasn’t he?”
“He helped me,” Sehun says, flinching away from Jongdae’s soothing fingers.
Jongdae frowns at the hand now devoid of Sehun’s face. “What do you mean?”
“Fuck-”
They both turn to the sound of Chanyeol cursing, Kyungsoo by his side, looking like it's unclear if he’s holding him up or holding him back.
“Fuck-“ he says again, eyes blazing and the temperature in the room rising by several degrees. “It was my fault. It was me. I was supposed to be watching him but he got away from me. I didn’t think he’d— he said wouldn’t leave their Sehun’s bedside. Just in case we tried to hurt him. I didn’t think- I didn’t think- ”
“That’s enough Yeol. It’s okay. Sehun is fine,” Kyungsoo says, fingers gripping Chanyeol’s shoulder, seemingly unbothered by the heat rippling around the taller man’s form. “You’re fine, right?” He directs at Sehun.
Sehun nods.
“All right let's go,” Kyungsoo says. “We have to find Kai and make sure he’s back on the other side of the compound before he causes any more trouble. It’s almost time for Yixing hyung to switch over here.”
“I don’t think Sehun should be here by himself,” Jongdae argues. “Not until we know Kai is contained and stays only where we agreed upon. Who knows what he might do the next time he decides to slip away from us.”
“You’re right,” Kyungsoo agrees. “But Sehun needs some time alone right now, okay?”
“But- ”
“Let’s go Dae.” Kyungsoo says in a tone that brooks no argument. He starts ushering Chanyeol out the door, who doesn’t even put up a fight, just looks back at Sehun with anguished eyes.
“Fine,” Jongdae says after a tense, silent exchange with Kyungsoo that Sehun doesn’t bother to interpret. He looks like he wants to reach for Sehun again, but he stops himself with another frown. “But I don’t care if it's not time yet, I’m sending Yixing hyung over right away. You shouldn’t be alone Sehun, not while those assholes are here.”
“Jongdae-”
“Yeah, I’m coming.” He moves to go, but turns around again with a stubborn look on his face, his perpetually-upward curving mouth pressed into a thin line. “Look, I know you’re angry. We should have told you earlier. What Baekhyun did, it was-“ Jongdae blows out a harsh breath and runs a hand through his already disheveled hair. For the first time, Sehun notices how haggard he looks.
Jongdae isn’t finished. “At this point, we still don’t know all the facts, and another hard truth no one seems to want to talk about around here is that you almost died. You were so close to dead we had to ask the enemy for help. So even if you’re angry, just know that after losing Baekhyun and almost losing you-,” He forces Sehun to look at him with his thumb and forefinger under Sehin’s chin. This close and unable to force his gaze away, he can see the way Jongdae’s eyes flash, bolts of thunder barely contained; it makes static electricity buzz in the air. “-I’m not taking any chances.”
And then he’s gone, propelling himself out of the room with a snap of power, leaving only a trail of static electricity and the smell of ozone in his wake. Kyungsoo hauls Chanyeol out of the room with barely a backward glance. The door closes behind them with a decisive thud.
Alone once again, for sure this time, Sehun doesn’t have the energy to sit up. He sinks into the bed and lets the heavy feeling in his chest manifest itself. It’s so different from the sharp pain of injury, which is still very much there, lingering, waiting for any sudden movement to make itself known. No, the weight of betrayal robs him of breath in another way, it takes away rational thought and feeling too.
How? He asks himself. Why?
Over and over he asks himself, lying in bed with no concept of time beyond the ticking of a second hand clock somewhere in the room. Pressure, pressure, pressure, and tension - it builds and builds until he can no longer hold back a sob, hot wet tears threatening to roll down his face. He stops their trajectory with an arm thrown over his face, eyes burning, trying to quell the wet sound of his staggered breathing.
He falls into a fitful sleep. His dreams are scattered and bizarre.
First a long, white hallway filled with closed doors that echo open behind him but when he turns around they’re shit again. Then a room with glass for walls and the silhouette of dozens of hands obscured by smoke as they press against glass. Darkness through it all, tinted in red, with a prickle of light at the far end of the void, beckoning to him, urging him to reach out.
He wakes up just as tired as when he’d fallen asleep, starving now, and unable to shake the lingering feeling of being watched as he’d slept. It’s also the first time he’s had to wake up alone and the experience is disorienting. He hasn’t been alone for long though, if the wrinkled sheets on the bed are anything to go by, still a little warm.
Sehun sits up slowly with a little effort, wary of his injury. The bandage looks like it’s been replaced, with neat edges and an appropriate amount of tape. He rolls his shoulder, marveling at the ability to do so without crying out in pain. It already feels better than the last time he was awake. His eyes are gritty with dried tears but he doesn’t have a headache despite how he’d fallen asleep, so there’s no doubt who’d shared the bed with him not too long ago.
He makes quick work of cleaning up in the bathroom, washing his face and brushing his teeth before venturing out of the bedroom for the first time in what seems like days, maybe even weeks. The clock on the wall reads at half past two but he has no idea what day it is or if it’s two in the morning or the afternoon. There are no windows in this part of the compound, the bunks and makeshift infirmary deep underground for added security.
The halls are quiet and empty on his way to the kitchen. This far underground it's chilly too; they have to stay off the grid as much as possible and can’t expend too much energy on heating. He shivers as he rifles through the fridge’s contents, meager as they are. There’s still some left over soup he remembers from the last time he’d been awake. He heats it up and makes himself comfortable at the small dining table to eat. He has to remind himself to slow down in case his stomach decides to rebel again.
It isn’t long before someone comes looking for him.
Between one blink and the next, Jongin is doing a 360 spin around the kitchen, eyes looking a little frantic and heaving an audible sigh of relief when he finds Sehun at the table.
“There you are,” he says, coming over. “Been looking all over for you.”
Sehun nods, swallowing before he hums in agreement. He tries not to meet Jongin’s eyes, but Kai’s face flashes in his mind, juxtaposed against the Jongin in front of him and that moment’s hesitation is all Jongin needs. Before he can tell him not to sit, Jongin is already taking a seat across from him. He doesn’t say anything, just watches Sehun watching him, a pregnant silence between them. It’s almost comfortable, the way most things with Jongin are. But the weight of betrayal sits between them, more than just Baekhyun’s, and they aren’t the same people they were before Sehun took an arrow to the chest.
“You’re angry,” Jongin says, throwing the words out into the silence. The words sit there for a long moment while Sehun finds the words to reply, unsure all the while if he wants to engage in the first place.
What he decides on is, “I don’t know.” It’s as close to the gaping emptiness he’s feeling, like the arrow had left a hole where his heart is supposed to be.
“I understand,” Jongin says.
“Do you?” Sehun asks, the first stirrings of anger and frustration spiking underneath the haze he’s been since he’d woken up.
“Do you think you’re the only one feeling like the world’s slipped out from under them?” Jongin asks with a stubborn set of his jaw. “Do you think you’re the only one reeling from everything that’s going on? Because you aren’t. He was on our team. Our hyung. He was-” Jongin has to stop and look away. Under the harsh kitchen lighting, it’s obvious he’s blinking back more than just emotions. “He was mine too.”
Sehun knows Jongin is right. Knows that he probably isn’t the only one hurting, knows that he’s not the only one allowed to feel this way. But it feels too real, like this, too soon, too raw. All Sehun wanted was some food, he wasn’t ready for a heart to heart.
He gets up from the table with nothing else to say and heads for the sink. He doesn’t need to turn around to know that Jongin won’t be there when he’s done with the dishes.
He thinks about going after him, but finds that he still wouldn’t know what to say. How do you speak to someone who’s going through the same things? Who is just as much a victim, tricked into trusting the light, only to be left in the darkness? Sehun doesn’t even feel like himself anymore, like having a hole in his chest left an eraser in his head, too. He feels lost and confused, and like the only people he’d usually turn to are the ones who made him lose his way in the first place.
He doesn’t know who to trust anymore. He doesn’t know how to feel. Yixing can heal his body but Sehun doesn’t think he can do anything about his heart.
With the exception of Yixing, the others make themselves scarce.
Even with the stubbornness pulling at his insides, Yixing looks at him with such pleading, hopeful eyes that Sehun begrudgingly pulls the covers back for him. He pulls Sehun close, tucking him under his chin, never mind that Sehun towers over him, with wider shoulders and considerably more bulk. Yixing doesn’t talk either, just holds him, no powers involved, no healing energy.
It’s the most lucid Sehun has felt, the most calm, the most peaceful. If only everything else could be as simple.
“I’m…angry,” he says into the hollow of Yixing’s throat.
Yixing squeezes him, ruffles his hair, and rubs at his ear. “I know. Me too. All of us are.”
“It-” Sehun inhales deeply, prepares himself for the amount of honesty he needs to be able to move past the lump in his throat. “It hurts.”
“Oh, baby,” Yixing hugs him even closer, squeezes him even harder, presses Sehun’s face into his chest as if he could merge their bodies together. “You know if I could, I’d take the pain away. I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
Neither of them acknowledge the things left unsaid. That Sehun knows this is the kind of pain he’s got to work through on his own. No amount of Yixing’s healing power could dull the sharp pain of betrayal. He returns Yixing’s embrace just as tightly.
“How is he?” He asks later, when the swell of emotion has passed and sleepiness is creeping up on him again. “The other me. What’s he like?”
“Better,” Yixing answers quietly, sounding just as tired as Sehun feels. “He was in a pretty bad way when they first arrived. Just as bad as you. For a second there I- I almost thought you both wouldn’t make it.” Then, even more quietly, “I don’t think I’ve ever been more afraid in my life.”
“Sorry,” Sehun murmurs, fisting the back of Yixing’s shirt, pulling him close again. While he does feel genuinely sorry for worrying anyone, he’s too tired now to muster up energy for anger or stubbornness.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Yixing presses a kiss to the top of his head. “You’re both out of danger now, though he hasn’t been awake for longer than a few minutes at a time. I’m not sure what things are like for them, but it didn’t seem like he was given anything beyond basic medical attention. The other two that came with him - Kai and Chen - they don’t like to talk much, but from what little I’ve gathered, they don’t have anyone like me on their team.”
“That’s because you’re special,” Sehun says, “Our one and only healing unicorn.”
“Please, not with the unicorn jokes,” Yixing groans and Sehun can almost hear his eyes roll. “You must be feeling better, if you can start teasing.”
Sehun makes a noncommittal noise.
“Hey,” Yixing pulls back and tilts Sehun’s face to meet his eyes. “Talk to the rest of them, okay? It’s been a really tough couple of days for everyone. We may look sane, but we’d move heaven and earth for you, you know that right? The only reason the others haven’t hunted Baekhyun down yet is because they want to make sure you’re alive. Even if it means breaking all the rules, conniving with the enemy, and staying put.”
Sehun remains quiet, frowning, but ultimately he knows Yixing is right. He just needs a little more time to wallow.
“Come on now,” Yixing says, lightly pinching Sehun in the cheek. “Be a good boy and listen to your hyung.”
Sehun frowns, wrinkling his nose. “I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I ask.”
When Yixing tries to get up, Sehun won’t let him go easily.
“Take me with you,” he says, twining long limbs around the older man. “I- I want to see him. The other me.”
Yixing sighs, not trying very hard to escape. “Eat, first, then take your medicine. I’ll talk to Junmyeon. It might not be safe, but it might be a good idea for you guys to meet. You can feel it, right? The connection between you two?” He lays a palm over Sehun’s injury, no more than a dull ache now, scabbing over and still ugly, but healing.
His touch is warm with power, but not the kind to put Sehun to sleep or provide comfort. It’s the kind of power that taps into Sehun’s core, intertwining their energies and making him aware of his own. It’s almost like a mingling of their souls, an act so intimate Sehun shivers with it. Anyone else and it would feel invasive - wrong - but the intrusion is so gentle and Sehun trusts Yixing so completely that it only feels like being wrapped in a very warm cocoon. It’s there, with Yixing’s power softly stroking at his own that Sehun realizes there’s another presence mingling with them. It’s faint, but there: a ripple of energy that feels familiar but not one Sehun recognizes.
“I didn’t notice it right away because you were so injured,” Yixing whispers, holding Sehun close. “But it’s there.”
“What does it mean?”
“I don’t know,” Yixing answers, withdrawing his energy slowly, making Sehun want to chase after his warmth. “But I think it’s important that we find out more about it. Chen and Kai, they won’t let Jongin or Jongdae anywhere near them. The closest they’ve come to violence while they’ve been here is whenever Jongin and Jongdae are around. So I suspect they must know something more about this connection that we don’t.”
Apart from Yixing, no one else thinks it's a good idea that the doppelgänger’s stay any longer than they need to, even when he argues that something isn’t quite right. Junmyeon shuts him down quickly, and the others follow suit.
“Don’t you want to know what they are? Why do they exist?” Yixing reasons, “This might be our last chance to find out.”
Junmyeon shakes his head. “It’s too dangerous. The only reason they haven’t attacked us outright while they’ve been here is because they need something from us. Who knows what they’ll do when they’ve all recovered? I refuse to put us in any more danger than we need. Not right now.” He glances at Sehun, but Sehun can’t meet his eyes.
It’s almost cruel. From what Yixing’s told him, the other Sehun is still bedridden and weak, only just starting to heal. To have them leave now might undo all the work Yixing’s done to keep him alive.
But Junmyeon refuses to be reasoned with.
“How long?” He asks Yixing. “How long do you need to make sure he’s stable and able to heal on his own?”
“Two days,” Yixing answers, mouth pursed into a thin line and dimple flashing in frustration as he gnaws on the inside of his cheek. “Maybe three if his fever comes back.”
Junmyeon nods decisively and leaves the room, the others filing out after him. Only Yixing stays, but that’s because it’s still Sehun’s turn.
“We have at least three days,” he says, squeezing Sehun’s shoulder, a determined look in his eyes. “We’ll figure it out.”
Turns out, ‘figuring it out’ meant Kai popping back in.
“Let’s go, Sehunnie, time’s ticking,” he says just hours later when he appears next to Sehun’s bed. He’s got an hourglass in one hand, the sand inside glowing bright red as it spills into the bottom half. Before Sehun can so much as say a word, Kai grabs for his hand and just like before, they’re splintering into a tiny million pieces.
The world spins, light and shadow passing by in a fraction of a second and suddenly they’re whole again, Sehun’s mind and body reformed in a familiar bedroom. Familiar faces also greet him, but there’s something odd about them.
Chanyeol and Kyungsoo sit in chairs on opposite sides of the room, bodies frozen, and eyes blank, unseeing. Yixing is in another chair on the bed, similarly unmoving. They aren’t even breathing.
“Look who’s come to visit,” Kai says, greeting another two on the bed. “Say hi, Hünnie.”
Even their nicknames it seems, are the same. The way Kai says it, with a little inflection on the vowels is a subtle difference, but an unmistakable one.
Hünnie doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t need to. Chen answers for him.
“Well, well,” Chen drawls, mouth curling in such a familiar, haunting way. The lip ring attached to his right ear by two dangling silver chains clink softly when he speaks. “We were wondering when you’d show up. See Sehünnie, no need to fret. You’re still way cuter than he is, even half way dead.”
“You’re not going to throw up again, are you?” Kai says as he eyes Sehun warily.
Sehun shakes his head, ears flushing at the memory of the last time they met.
“Good, because I don’t have time to rub your back right now. Come on, let’s go,” he says to Chen. Then, to Sehün on the bed. “Time’s ticking. You’ve got five minutes.”
“Bye, cutie,” Chen says, stepping into the circle of Kai’s arms. He chucks Sehun lightly under the chin with two fingers, his touch electric. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”
Sehun blinks and they’re gone.
For all the anticipation, meeting his doppelgänger is…anticlimactic.
They size each other up, wasting time, precious seconds ticking by. They definitely look alike, mirror images of each other down to the tiny mole on Sehun’s neck, just underneath his chin. He’s got a flat look on his face, the same one Sehun has practiced in the mirror countless times. It’s meant to look unfazed and disinterested, hiding all thoughts and emotions behind a muted gaze and a jade-like expression. He’s got flaws though, the most noticeable one a raised scar that bisects the right side of his face, from the eyebrow down to the cheek. His right eye is an expanse of milky white, without a pupil and fixed in one position. It makes him look menacing and creepy without even trying.
“What did you do to them?” Sehun asks, breaking the silence and gesturing at the motionless people in the room.
“They’re fine,” Sehün says, his voice rough from obvious disuse. “We may not have a healer on our side, but we have someone who can manipulate time.”
Sehun files that information away for later. He has other, more pressing questions to ask.
“We’re connected,” he says, tapping himself on the chest. Sehün raises an eyebrow at him, as if to say obviously. “You didn’t know that before you started attacking us, did you?”
Sehün tips his chin, somewhat reluctantly. “If I did, I would have aimed that arrow elsewhere.”
“There are too many unknowns. It doesn’t feel right.”
“Agreed,” Sehün says, which isn’t the answer Sehun is expecting. “It seems there might be more traitors among us.”
The weight of that information weighs heavily on them, and Sehun has to file it away again. Has it been five minutes yet?
“Will you look for them?” Sehun asks. They both know exactly who he’s talking about.
“No.”
“Why not?”
Sehün catches his gaze, a hard expression on his face. “I can’t, not if you want either of them back alive.”
“What do you mean?”
“The bond between us is closer than you think. Not the one between you and me,” he clarifies, “But me and…mine. We’re connected too. Even if I wanted to save him, I couldn’t. This kind of deviation causes more than just physical pain, but even a psychological one. He should be unstable, ready to self-destruct. And for the rest of us, it’s almost like a switch, a compulsion. We wouldn’t be able to let him live if we ever found him- them.”
“Then why hasn’t anyone from your side hunted them down yet?”
“I don’t know,” Sehün says with a frustrated shrug of his shoulders. “According to everything we’ve been told, we should all be consumed with rage and bloodlust right now, satisfied only with the blood of the traitor on our hands. But we aren’t.”
Sehun blows out a harsh breath at that revelation. It’s obvious something else has changed, a shift in the power of the unknown entity playing all of their strings. It happened between him and the mirror of himself on the be, and it probably happened to Baekhyun and his. “That’s why they left,” he says, with dawning realization. “They figured out, that all of us were being played.”
Sehün nods. “But by whom?”
Neither of them have any answer and they don’t have the luxury of time to ruminate.
“You need to find them before we do,” Sehün says decisively. “Because I don’t know how long this compulsion to kill will lie dormant. Chen and Kai seem to be fine, but I don’t know about the others. If they’re more affected and started hunting, we won’t see either Bäekhyun alive again-”
“-all right princess, time’s up,” Kai says appearing at Sehün’s bedside with a little whirl. “We gotta go.”
“Wait-” Sehun says as Kai leans over to lift his doppelgänger out of the bed. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“You can’t,” Sehün answers, looping lanky arms around Kai’s neck. He points at the wound on his chest, and Sehun’s own chest throbs suddenly. “But if you don’t, we might as well shoot each other again and be done with it.”
“You guys are so dramatic,” Kai says with a roll of his eyes.
With another wink in Sehun’s direction, they’re both gone.
The fall out from their escape hurts almost like a second betrayal. Nevermind that they would have been chased out sooner or later.
The moment they disappear, time starts back up again, and Sehun stands by himself in the middle of the room, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo gaping at him, and then at the empty bed. Chaos ensues, and Yixing is the only one who doesn’t start yelling.
Junmyeon is livid, so are Chanyeol, Kyungsoo and Jongdae. They bombard Sehun with questions he refuses to answer, and they yell some more. Chanyeol almost blows out a wall when he can no longer control his temper and only Minseok’s icy touch keeps his wild flames in check. Jongdae and Kyungsoo don’t understand why he won’t talk, and more than their yelling, the doubt in their eyes and in their tone hurts the most.
“What are you hiding, Oh Sehun?” Junmyeon asks him point blank, disappointment clear on his face.
“Nothing,” Sehun repeats, “I already told you, Kai brought me here just so they could tell me we should look for Baekhyun hyung. Then they left.”
“How?” Junmyeon presses him. “How did they come and go without anyone else knowing, when Chanyeol and Kyungsoo were right there, when Yixing was right there.”
“I don’t know!” Sehun yells this time, his own temper wearing thin. Wind rattles the windows and he has to take deep breaths to reel the power back in. “I told you, I don’t know. I don’t know where they went, or how they left, or what their plans are. I don’t know anything.”
“You’re lying-”
“I’m not-”
“All right, that’s enough,” Yixing says, raising his voice to be heard over their heated argument. “Sehun has already told us everything he knows. We have to believe him. Now is not the time to accuse each other of lying. There’s already enough of that going around.”
Maybe it’s because Yixing rarely raises his voice, or maybe they’re all just done with fighting, but the argument de-escalates from there. Junmyeon leaves, anger marring his usually handsome face. “We aren’t done yet,” he throws over his shoulder, the others following after him. “This isn’t over.”
“Come on, that’s enough,” Yixing says more quietly, effectively cutting off Sehun's rude reply by tugging at his shoulder. Soon they’re alone and back in the room Sehun’s been staying in. “You need to rest. You’re still not completely healed yet.”
“Hyung, I-”
“I know,” Yixing cuts him off again, fingers curling around the back of Sehun’s neck and pulling him closer so that their foreheads touch. With his other hand he takes something out of his pocket.
It’s an hourglass, smaller than the one he’d seen with Kai, slim, no bigger than Yixing’s thumb. Confused, Sehun’s eyes go wide as it glows a dim red between them, pulsing in Yixing’s hand.
“W-why do you have that?”
“It’s okay, Sehunnie,” Yixing says, his hand tightening around Sehun’s neck, prickling and sharp. “It’s all going to be alright.”
Then, the world goes black.