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The sunlight is blinding him a little bit. It's clear skies for as far as the eye can see, for the first time in what feels like ages. Jeongguk lies flat on his back, spread eagle on the grass. He squints, feeling like he should have taken cover under the shade of the large, lone oak a few feet away, but he can't bring his body to move, limbs sinking into the earth. He's as rooted as the tree itself.
There's a tinkle of a distant sound reaching his ears. Children laughing. Not uncommon, even during times like these. Children aren't really fazed by much. He wasn't at that age. Jeongguk catches sight of them from the corner of his eye, seemingly familiar figures tumbling around just beyond the reach of the overarching branches. Two boys are giggling and yelling and clinging at each other. Jeongguk smiles, turning his head to watch them, the muscles of his neck protesting at the strain. It's been a long day, his body tries to remind him, tries to convince him that he should just stay still — until all of the aches and pains fade away into nothing.
But once Jeongguk's attention zeroes in on something, he can't let it go. Not right away. And these boys remind him too much of a past life. Nostalgia pangs in his chest as he watches the scene play out. There's a chubby cheeked boy, dragging his friend along by the hands. They're spinning in fast circles, until they trip over their own feet and tumble to the ground, bruising knees but finding themselves not caring in their unbridled glee.
Jeongguk's own knees ache in memory. Sympathy pains. The younger boy falls, hitting a rock, with his shin. He whimpers, clutching at where it bleeds — nearly the same place Jeongguk has a scar from when he was younger. Jeongguk winces along, feeling an inexplicable tightness in his throat, a sting against his lids when the older boy bends down to blow cool air against the scratch.
Jeongguk raises a hand, barely managing to pull it up, still feeling heavy all over. Like he isn't real. He reaches out, looks at the boys through the gaps of his fingers.
"Hey, Jeon!" A voice shouts over to him. Jeongguk flinches, hand falling and head whipping around to face the opposite direction.
He sees the flash of a white coat and groans, shutting his eyes and facing the sky again. He just wants to pretend, for a while longer, that this is a different time and a different place. That he can have this moment, this day, to pretend everything is okay and relax.
"Hey," says a panting voice — Yugyeom, his mind tells him. His footsteps stop next to Jeongguk's head, foot nudging his shoulder slightly to jostle him. "Didn't you hear me calling for you?"
"Jeongguk isn't here," Jeongguk responds, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Come back tomorrow."
Yugyeom laughs, huffed and tired and not sounding quite happy enough to pass for a real laugh. "If I could, I would. Hell, I might not come back at all," Yugyeom snorts, leaning down to yank at Jeongguk's arm, forcibly pulling him up. "We've got work to do, bud."
Jeongguk groans, sitting up. "Still?" the word comes out muffled behind a yawn that he doesn't bother covering up. They're far past pleasantries and etiquette, everyone in their company is. When the world is ending, you stop caring so much about being polite. "Thought we got to all the critical cases already."
"We did, but there's a lot of stuff in shambles down there. Don't worry, I got us the easy stuff, we just gotta get the pharmacy in order," Yugyeom shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets and waiting as Jeongguk clambers to his feet.
Jeongguk snorts, picking up his own white coat from the ground. There are grass stains on it now, the edges frayed. He remembers getting this only a year back, smiling wryly as he thinks about his past self, wanting to keep it pristine and clean for as long as possible. "Damn dogs," Jeongguk shakes his head, rolls out his shoulders, "Never do their jobs right."
"What can ya expect from the state," Yugyeom throws an arm around his shoulders, swinging him around to had back to the heart of the town, "They’re all brute and brawn and absolutely zero brains."
Jeongguk hums — in agreement or avoidance, he's unsure himself. He chances a glance back over his shoulder to find the boys running away. Neither of them teary—eyed. He wonders, for a moment, if he imagined the entire exchange.
By the time dusk begins to settle, the majority of the pharmacy is in workable condition — not ideal, but good enough given what he had to work with. Yugyeom had ditched him at some point, Bambam coming by to distract him. He'd given Jeongguk Mingyu and Jihyo in return though, so it ended up being a win-win situation.
Jeongguk ran them off solely because he just wanted some time alone. He didn't mind the ruckus around him, or the warmth of company — he cherished it even. It was nice, the way they made him lighten up and have some fun, the way they made him feel his actual age. But even still, the noise got to be too much sometimes, and Jeongguk's brain would scream at him to get to safety, get a breath of air that's his and his alone. There are very few people Jeongguk is willing to share that much with; to let steal from his lungs.
He's folding up empty boxes to toss when the bell Bambam had put in above the door jingles. It was his third meaningful contribution, he'd claimed, before running off. Jeongguk is thankful for it now, not being one for people sneaking up on him. He had a tendency to use the little alchemy he had a handle of in those situations, instincts acting up in an attempt to defend himself.
It's an old lady this time, leaning heavily on a cane and hoping for medicine to help the creak of her joints. Harmless. There are smile lines on her face, a soft crinkling at the corners of her eyes. It's nice, Jeongguk would expect more of droop, but she's light in a way that's refreshing. She barely looks old enough for creaking bones, though. A side effect of living through war, Jeongguk supposes. Leaves you weaker.
All that about whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger is bullshit.
She's kind when she speaks to Jeongguk and even that is surprising. It makes Jeongguk grin, blinding and wide in a way that he hasn't smiled in ages. He gives her a balm, and a small dose of pills, after a moment's hesitation. He'll be here for another week, and he tells her to come back when she runs out, so they can check in. Writes everything down like he's supposed to do, like he was taught, despite the fact that most people don't bother anymore. It's not like doctors go through extensive training when there's barely any people around willing to do the job. They're field experts at best, but expected to know everything when they've had a year of training at most. But Jeongguk does like to pretend after all, to play at make—believe. Lug around books and shadow the veterans and teach himself as much as he can.
"You're a good boy," the old lady tells him. Mrs. Choi, she said her name is. Her husband was lost in the Battle of Gatsem, ten years ago. It's when she lost her leg, the reason for the heavy lean. Automail that hasn't been looked after almost causes more pain than it's worth.
"It's nothing, really," Jeongguk ducks his head, bashful as he takes the time to write out careful instructions for her. His accent always comes out stronger when he's at a loss for words. Rich and lush like the rolling hills and seas of his southern home. "I'm just doin' my job."
"No, you're doing much more," Mrs. Choi pats his hair, in a way that reminds him of his own grandmother.
She takes the folded paper from him, exchanging it for a few crumpled notes. It's nothing much but Jeongguk can't accept it, his immediate thoughts being of how much it'll set her back. People in the countryside often don’t have much for themselves, especially not in rundown towns like these.
"Keep it," Mrs. Choi smacks his arm, backs away in a hurry. He lets her go, worried that the cane won't support her if he keeps up his protests. "You can get yourself something nice to eat with that, maybe. You're looking a little thin there, dear. Consider it a thank you."
Jeongguk holds the notes with both hands, pressing the paper tightly between his thumbs, smoothing it out and refolding it, edge to edge. Emotions well up in his chest, sudden and unexpected, threatening to choke him.
"Thank you."
Mrs. Choi clucks her tongue. "You're supposed to say you're welcome, dear boy," she laughs, already on her way out.
"Jeonggukie!"
Jeongguk's head snaps up from where he'd been plucking at dandelions in his front yard. He's crouched down, with a bundle in one hand which he shoves behind his back quickly.
"Jimin!" he calls back, just as loudly, waving a hand overhead in a large arch as he stumbles to his feet.
Jimin's half jogging and half speed walking down the path to Jeongguk's house, curly brown hair bouncing atop his head. There's a large brown box in his hands that he's keeping his eyes on in concentration, tongue peeking out between his teeth. Jeongguk smiles when he catches sight of the band-aid on his knee, a matching one on his own.
"What's that?" he asks a panting Jimin when he finally comes to a rushed stop beside him, carefully settling the box down by their feet.
"Present," Jimin gasps out before taking a deep breath and puffing out his chest. He grins, settling his fists on his hips. "For you! Open it carefully."
"Oh," Jeongguk's face colors, wide eyes twinkling immediately. He goes to open the box before remembering the dandelions clutched in his hand. Jimin's already caught sight of them, a tiny smile on his face, probably figured Jeongguk out already.
Jeongguk blushes more, if possible, scuffing his shoe against the grass. "Um," his words come out in a mumble as he shoves the makeshift bouquet forward, "These are for you."
"You're so sweet, Jeonggukie," Jimin singsongs, giggling as he wraps his hands around Jeongguk's instead of taking the bouquet itself. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Jeongguk says, a hushed, stuttered whisper.
"You know what you're supposed to do with dandelions right?"
"Uh—uh," Jeongguk shakes his head, pulling his lips between his teeth, big eyes getting even bigger in question.
"You blow on them and make a wish!" Jimin grins wide, missing front tooth on display and all. "Let's do it together so we both get a wish!"
"No," Jeongguk rushes, a small pout coming over his face as his words stumble over each other, "They're for you, so you should get the wish."
"But I want to share," Jimin whines, tugging him closer by the hands, "With my favorite person!"
The tiny quip has the desired effect, leaving Jeongguk speechless. All he can do is nod and bow his head, shutting his eyes when Jimin whispers loudly at him to. He's not sure why they're trying to be quiet but it feels right. Jeongguk even holds his breath, wishing as hard as he can until Jimin counts down.
They blow as hard as they can, giggling as they blow in each other's faces. The dandelion seeds float off and they ooh and ahh as they watch them disperse. Jimin scoots in closer, linking their arms and nudging Jeongguk.
"So," he says conspiratorially, voice still kept at a whisper, "What did you wish for?"
"I can't tell you! Then it won't come true, duh," Jeongguk rolls his eyes but Jimin just pokes him in the side until he squirms away in tickled giggles.
"That's only true for birthdays! Or shootin' stars or something," Jimin shakes his head, "Tell me!"
"No!"
"Please?"
"No."
"I'll tell you mine."
Jeongguk bites his cheek, reaching over to grab at Jimin's hand. He looks up at Jimin, who seems impossibly big with the way the sun shines from behind him, even if he's only ten — a mere two years older than Jeongguk, who will also be ten in no time.
"I made two," Jeongguk sniffles. "To be as tall as you—" Jimin interrupts him with a snort. Jeongguk frowns. "—And for us to be together forever."
Jimin's cheeks tinge pink, the color of roses, Jeongguk thinks distantly. There's a tuft of white stuck to his hair, where the dandelion seeds have gotten caught. Jeongguk's stomach feels swoopy.
"I wished for the same thing," Jimin crows, pulling Jeongguk into a hug, "Now there's no way we won't always be together!"
Mrs. Choi comes back at the end of the week as promised. Jeongguk's packing up one of the trucks for their caravan when she finds him. He's apologetic, bashful — in truth, the week had been so busy that he forgot. But he's quick to make up for it, setting up a makeshift office under the awning of a nearby building, with a stool and a cardboard box.
"I'm sorry to be bothering you, dear," Mrs. Choi says, looking around at the buzzing bodies hurrying to get everything together. They've gotta get moving soon to stay on schedule. "I heard of the way you helped that little Peters boy with his broken leg and it reminded me to come by."
"No, it's okay," Jeongguk waves off her apologies with a smile, "I should have come by and checked on you myself." He glances down at her leg, the cane leaning against her hip. "You shouldn't be running all over this city when you're in pain."
"Well, I'm not about to sit around and just wither away, am I?" Mrs. Choi snaps back, shaking her head. "Honestly, the balm you gave me helped a lot. There were a few nights I had to resort to the pills."
Jeongguk hums, nods. Asks her questions about how often and the type of pain she's experiencing. It warms his heart that he could help at all, even more so to know that she's going to be just fine. He's got a soft spot for old people by themselves. Or anyone by themselves really. He worries.
"Okay," Jeongguk scribbles down medicine names, amounts, instructions. Folds up the paper neat and tidy, edge to edge, before handing it over. "Give these to the pharmacist when he gets into town, it'll help. Alright? Take care of yourself, Mrs. Choi."
"You, as well, Jeongguk," she smiles at him, struggling to her feet. He reaches out to steady her, letting her take his hand and startles when he feels something cool pressed into his palm. "Here, I want you to have this since I can't offer you anything else for your help."
"Mrs. Choi," Jeongguk frowns down at the white teardrop pendant in his hand, "You don't have to give me anything. We don't need money for this, we're volunteers."
"Yes, yes, I know that," she shakes her head, waving flippantly at him, "But working for free is hard on the soul, and that isn't anything much anyway. It should keep you safe though."
Jeongguk looks at her in question, thumbing the pendant.
"A state alchemist gave it to me a while back," she says, hurrying when she sees the frown on his face. "Now, now, he wasn't bad at all. Said it would keep me safe and it has. So maybe it will do the same for you. Your travels will be much harder than mine, after all."
Jeongguk pushes the sour taste in his mouth away. "You're going to be traveling?"
"Oh, you know," Mrs. Choi hobbles onto the pathway, shouldering her bag with a huff. "Just up and down this street really. It's trying enough for an old hag like me though."
A smile breaks out on Jeongguk's face, he shakes his head. "Thank you Mrs. Choi. It was nice to meet you."
"Come visit sometime, when things have gotten better!"
Jeongguk doesn't know when that will be but he makes the promise anyway, looping the necklace around his neck.
"What's this?" Mingyu asks, poking at the white pendant resting in the dip of Jeongguk's chest when they've loaded up into their truck.
They're in the back for this leg, making sure all the luggage is fine while suffering on the rough, uncomfortable truck bed. They've only been on the road for maybe five minutes and the wind is already biting at Jeongguk's ears. He's yearning for the blazing sun and clear skies of a week ago.
"Hm?" Jeongguk looks down, plucking the stone up between his fingers. "Mrs. Choi gave it to me, said it'll protect me."
"Protect you?"
"Yeah," Jeongguk snorts, rolls his eyes. "Some state alchemist probably spun some story to her 'bout some bullshit."
Mingy squints at him. "Or," he offers, "They were just trying to give her some hope? C'mon, man. They're not all bad. Why are you so anti—alchemy anyway?"
Jeongguk stiffens, tries not to clench his jaw too obviously. "I'm not anti—alchemy."
"Right," Mingyu drawls. "And I'm not super incredibly ridiculously handsome." Jeongguk punches him in the arm, choking on a laugh. "No, really, my brother's a state alchemist and he's great, I'll have ya know. What, you get rejected when you applied or something?"
"Like I'd ever," Jeongguk huffs, crossing his arms.
"You're the type though, aren't ya?" Mingyu grins at him, stretching his legs out as much as he can and slumping low. "The type to get all the glory and such."
Jeongguk sighs, it's not the first time he's heard that. He can see himself hearing it plenty more in the future too. It's not bad really, he likes it, of course. What guy wouldn't? But there's something else...
He slumps down as well, leaning his head back against the side of the truck. It digs into his neck uncomfortably but it's soothing, in a strange way, as Jeongguk stares up at the sky. It's become routine. Something shifts in his equilibrium as he mulls over what to tell Mingyu, makes him feel like he's experienced this before, outside of this new life he's building for himself.
Sea salt filters through his nose, bitter and biting but warm, easy, even though they're nowhere near water.
"It's not that I hate all state alchemists," Jeongguk tries, drawl tugging at his words. He feels sleep seeping into his limbs, suddenly. The week's, month's, year's worth of work catching up to him as he forces his words out. "It's just that they took something from me."
"What's that?" Mingyu asks, more serious, sober, watching him with careful eyes.
Jeongguk looks at him, knocks their elbows together. "Something important," he says with a wry smile. "But it doesn't matter anymore."
Jimin is busy with a piece of chalk in his hands, fully concentrated on the pavement in front of him. Jeongguk sits beside him, watching in interest , humming as if he understands. He just wants Jimin to think he's cool too — and not same lame eight year old that doesn't know what he's doing.
In his lap sits a bunny, soft grey and tiny enough that his mother called him a second Jeongguk. Jeongguk said the bunny would grow as big as he will and Jimin yelled his agreement, making him giddy with excitement. They'd decided, together, that Mr. Nibbles was the perfect name for him and Jeongguk's mother watched on, fond laughter set as their background music.
It didn't take them long to race outside with Mr. Nibbles, scrambling around him to make sure he didn't hop away into the street or into the light forestry near by. That's when the idea struck Jimin, and he had yelled at Jeongguk to wait there while he ran down to the trees to grab as much wood as his tiny arms could carry.
"What are you doing?" Jeongguk finally asks, when sitting by and watching Jimin scribble lines has started getting boring and pretending to understand has only gotten him confusion.
"Oh," Jimin pauses, rubbing his nose, leaving a little white mark that Jeongguk can't help but giggle at. Jimin flicks a pebble his way, missing by a mile. Probably on purpose but Jeongguk throws a teasing jab about it anyway. Jimin just takes it on the chin. "I'm gonna make a pen for Mr. Nibbles."
"With alchemy?"
Jimin grins and nods. "Look, I'm almost done," Jimin points at his circles, rushing through an explanation for some of the lines that sound more like a foreign language than anything else to Jeongguk's ears. "I just need to get this perfect otherwise it'll turn into another one of those toy birds."
"Maybe you're not that good if you keep accidentally making those, Jiminie," Jeongguk sniffs, hiding a laugh in Mr. Nibbles' fur.
"I'm plenty good, Jeon!" Jimin huffs, arranging his materials into the center of the circle. "Just you watch," he huffs, throwing a last look over his shoulder before he turns back to the task at hand.
Jeongguk's never had problems with keeping his eyes on Jimin.
There's a bright light, shades of green and blue that surround Jimin for a moment. It scares Jeongguk a bit, if he's completely honest, but piques his interest more. He wants to get closer and take a look, but waits — impatiently, leg jiggling to the point that it makes the bunny attempt to squirm away — until the light fades and Jimin backs up to reveal a large hexagon-shaped wooden pen.
"Whoa," Jeongguk breathes, shuffling forward on his knees, dumping Mr. Nibbles into Jimin's arms so he can crouch closer.
"Cool, right?"
"Super cool!" Jeongguk reaches for the little door, thumbing the little bird there. It has a happy face drawn on it, a top hat attached to its head. "What's this supposed to be?" he laughs.
"My signature!" Jimin sticks his tongue out at him huffily. "So that you'll remember that I made this for you."
"How's that something I would ever forget?" Jeongguk blurts out in childish honesty, only pausing to blush afterward. A similar smear of red bleeds across Jimin's face. "Um."
"That's nice of you, Jeonggukie," Jimin leans forward, softly brushes his hand through Jeongguk's hair rather than ruffling it like he usually does.
Sometimes, in moments like this, Jimin scares Jeongguk. Makes him feel like they've spun around in too many circles, that he'll meet the ground face first if he tries to stand.
"You're the one that's giving all the gifts, you're nice," Jeongguk mumbles, like it's supposed to be an insult, looking at his feet as Jimin sets Mr. Nibbles down into the enclosed space.
"Maybe I'm just being nice because I like you or somethin'," Jimin wiggles his brows, missing-toothed smile winking at him.
Jeongguk sputters, groans, yells out that it's gross, even as his stomach swoops some more. In response Jimin tackles him to the ground, making kissy noises that Jeongguk tries his best to get away from. They tumble around until they're both exhausted, laying on their backs and watching the sky.
"Thank you for the bunny," Jeongguk whispers, minutes later, breathless still. "And the home for it."
"Thank you for the dandelions," Jimin responds, linking their hands together.
Jimin half trips out of the back of the van, Taehyung laughing as he helps him shove himself up straight. Sanghyuk is already off ahead of them, accosting the inn-owner for a place to stay. How can they work on rebuilding anything if they're not well rested, right?
"You'd think," Jimin groans, stretching his hands toward the sky, "That bein' state alchemists would at least get us a better ride than this."
Sungjae shoves him out of the way as he clambers out of the van as well. "Hey it's better than that one time we had to take an honest to god carriage ."
"I didn't even know those were a thing anymore," Taehyung added on, falling into step beside Jimin.
"Guess people don't got time to catch up with all the new technology when they're, y'know, dying and shit," Sungjae shrugs, leading the way down to where Sanghyuk's waving at them, apparently having snagged some lodgings.
"Not dying," Jimin frowns, "Anymore." He winces. "Mostly."
"Still," Sungjae throws back at him. Jimin nods in acquiescence. It's not like people had caught up back home in Kanen, either. The entire country was stuck in the past, rocked too deeply by the war and strung too thin by the taxes that came with trying to acquire more land.
"You think we can sleep for a day before getting to work?" Taehyung nudges him, as they thank the inn keeper's wife for the blankets she hands them.
Jimin spies an open kitchen through one of the side doors. It's a bit of a mess, there's children playing in it. The stove looks like it's on its last leg. "Prob'ly not," Jimin mumbles. Something like guilt drums against his ribcage. "I can take it though if you're not feelin' up to it."
"Nah," Taehyung sighs, catching the same sight Jimin did. "It's the least we can do."
Jimin hums, dwells on the words. The least they could do. His shoulders slump.
It doesn't seem incredibly hard at first, the work that they do. Clap their hands to a slab of concrete with some metal thrown on top and suddenly a wall is in place. But it takes a little more than what people expect and it takes a lot of personal energy. Alchemy is equal exchange, energy is needed to build anything, and Jimin only has so much he can give before he runs out — despite the fact that he likes to think he can keep going forever with no consequences.
It's how he's always been. Try. Try. Try again. Even if he has nothing left to give, try, and maybe he'll find something more.
It's nearing evening, after a full day of work, and Jimin's at that last breath, but trying to run another marathon. They've only managed to complete the inn so far, with all four of them working together. Sanghyuk and Sungjae took a few more buildings down the way, while Jimin and Taehyung worked on the houses and neighborhoods nearby, pitching in wherever they can.
His fingers feel rough with the dust of chalk, he considers getting newer tattoos to crawl up his arms. Solely so he won't have to waste so much time drawing everything out anymore. The thought distracts him and all he manages to get from the door he's attempting to mend is a small, metal chick. A happy face etched into it's face.
"I don't think you did that right, mister," pipes up a voice from his side. The little boy that lives here, intently watching him. Making him feel like he's been transported back in time, to a different boy watching him with eyes just as curious.
"Yeah, I don't think I did either," Jimin laughs, patting the kid's head. "Here, want it?" he holds out the bird.
"It's cute," the boy grins, "Can I really have it?"
Jimin smiles, fond, "'Course. I'm givin' it to you, aren't I? Go, run along, your mother's probably lookin' for you by now."
The boy runs off, leaving Jimin alone to his thoughts. It's been too many years since he's been back home. Too many years since he's had a familiar voice ringing in his ear about how he better not fuck this up and litter his house with yet another toy chick. His hands draw a circle out of habit, palms pressing into the earth, but his mind is in a completely different place, no longer his own. The alchemy doesn't work, he doesn't have enough energy to give.
He's on the verge of passing out right where he is but a hand settles on his shoulder. It's the boy's mother with a cup of tea, telling him to take a break. "You've done enough for the day, I think," she offers, with a kind smile.
"It's the least I could do," Jimin says, looking down at his hands. "I'm sure if it wasn't for some of us, your house would be in better condition anyway."
"Maybe," she nods, setting the teacup down next to him. "But that's just the world we live in now. No use in staying mad at the military forever, I'd never be able to move on with my life if I did. Trying now is what matters."
"So you're not angry anymore," Jimin's brows raise, "For all the useless battles and lives lost?" He's had more than his fair share of angry citizens. Still has a scar on his chin from where someone threw a rock at him. He can't find it in himself to blame them much. "For all the destruction? Your home is barely standing up."
"I'm angry. Of course I am, I probably will be for the rest of my life," she says. The words ring true for Jimin. Remind him of his own anger and of someone else's, of how many people he considered his own will stay angry with him for the rest of their lives. "But I'm tired more than that. I'm so tired. I just want to begin again."
Jimin stays quiet for a moment, thinking it over. By the time he finally reaches for the tea, night has settled and the woman has retreated into her home, nothing but a curtain separating her family from the world because Jimin couldn't finish the job he promised to do today. "I'd like to begin again too," he mumbles to himself, sighing along with the breeze that passes him by.
Jimin and Jeongguk sit side by side, so different from how they were earlier in the day, gleefully measuring their heights to see how they were on even footing now. Instead of the bright airiness of Jimin's kitchen, they're sitting quietly in the cellar. It's dark and damp, uncomfortably so — but it's the safest place for them right now. Outside, the resounding booms and yells and screams can still be heard, loud and clear. Closing in by the minute.
The fear in the room is palpable, even with how their parents try to keep them calm. Their smiles are strained in the barely there light and their voices shake. They can't be the heroes their children hope for them to be. Their children can't put on the brave front they always try for either.
Jimin is stiff as a board, the fear of the room feeding his own. He doesn't want to be scared, wants to be able to take care of everyone crammed in here. Wants to be like Jeongguk's older brother, sitting there with a stoic expression, immovable.
A large boom sounds overhead, Jimin and Jeongguk jump, simultaneously. Dust falls from the ceiling, it feels like the earth itself is trembling. Jimin swallows, rough, can feel how tense Jeongguk is beside him and reaches out to take his hand. He breathes a little easier when Jeongguk squeezes back, fingers twining together. Mr. Nibbles rushes under Jeongguk's legs, his bright white ribbon of a collar standing out, stark.
"It'll be over soon," Jimin's mother says, from where Jimin's brother sits beside her. She's running a hand through his hair as he bends to put his head between his knees. "We just need to wait it out."
Jimin's sick of waiting. Sick of it all. His heart shakes but he wishes he could go out there, wishes there was something he could do more than sit here. Passive.
There are shouts of men, approaching footsteps. Jeongguk's brother stands, sudden. Tense. Their fathers get to their feet as well.
"No," Jeongguk's brother says, voice hushed. "We need to be smart." They can hear the voices overhead giving orders to ransack the place, to check everywhere. "I'll go out alone."
"You can't!" Jeongguk's voice is torn when he shoots up to his feet but Jimin's quick to clap a hand over his mouth. They all fall quiet, waiting in tense silence to see if they were heard.
"I'll go out alone," Jeongguk's brother repeats, a smile on his face. He isn't worried. He looked confident, his mother will say later. Jimin just thinks he accepted his fate for what it was. "I'm the only one that can properly defend themselves."
There's tense silence. Jeongguk's mother stands, shakes her head. "We can all just — just... stay down here."
"They'll find us," Jeongguk's brother says, sighs. "It'll be okay. Wait for me to come back."
Jimin has to physically hold Jeongguk back, it's harder now that they've grown. A fifteen year old Jeongguk fights his grip easier, threatens to shoot up past him, all lanky limbs. But Jimin holds him still. Holds him through the tears — of anger and frustration and fear — afterward. Even as his own fall.
They shouldn't have let him go.
Sanghyuk sits against a half built wall for what's supposed to become the new hospital when Jimin finds him. He's got a couple empty bottles of beer by his feet, and extends another one to Jimin in invitation. Jimin sighs, runs a hand through his hair, considers admonishing him — they shouldn't be drinking when they have to be up so early. In the end, he takes the bottle and settles down next to him, wincing at the slight twinge in his back when he falls ungracefully onto the hard ground.
"What's eatin' you?" Jimin asks.
Sanghyuk chuckles, "Is it that obvious?"
"That something's wrong?" Jimin raises a brow, looks him up and down. "I'm a lil' afraid you're gonna ditch us and disappear into the wind or somethin'."
Sanghyuk bumps their shoulders in response, slumping and leaning his weight onto Jimin. He takes a swig and Jimin waits, even though it makes something itch under his skin. He's gotten used to waiting — gotten used to using it to his advantage. Eventually, Sanghyuk gives in, breaks under the silence.
"I miss home," he says, like the words have to be pulled out of him kicking and screaming. "I miss my family."
Jimin breathes out, the fight leaving him in one smooth movement. "Yeah, I think we all do, man."
"It's been worse lately, I guess. There's a girl I met today, looks like my sister."
Jimin clinks his bottle against Sanghyuk's in understanding. "Maybe we can go home soon."
"Maybe," Sanghyuk smiles at him, half-hearted.
"In the meantime," Jimin says, shuffling until they're both leant against each other, "You got us, yeah?"
Sanghyuk barks out a laugh at that. "Shitty consolation prize, I gotta say." But it got a genuine smile on his face, so Jimin's satisfied.
"Do you have to leave?" Jeongguk asks, aggressively stabbing the pin into the balloons tied to the end of the picnic table.
"Well, I think I kinda gotta," Jimin says, leaning against the table beside him. "Seein' as how I already told them I would be coming."
"Lame," Jeongguk says, frowning hard. One of the balloons slips out of his hands and he watches it float away. Jimin looks up at the sky, sighing at the dark cloud rolling in. The balloon a white speck against dark warnings. Appropriate.
"Hey, look at me," Jimin says, tugs on Jeongguk's arm until they're standing face to face, toe to toe.
"You're gonna be fine without me. Hell, you haven't even seemed to want me around that much these past few months, you should be glad I'm finally gettin' outta your hair," Jimin half-smiles, ignoring how the words sting. He keeps his hand on Jeongguk's arm, wanting that connection to stay just for a moment longer.
"What are you talking about," Jeongguk grunts, still frowning. He looks down at his shoes and Jimin takes the moment to admire the man he's becoming. Seventeen and a whole centimeter taller than Jimin already. He's got a sinking sensation the next time they meet, Jeongguk will be too much to handle.
"I always want you around," Jeongguk continues in a mumble. Jimin freezes, throat clicking. "You're my friend. My best friend." His world restarts, albeit with a tinge of disappointment.
"That's not changing," Jimin points out, letting his hand fall away, swallowing thickly. "I'll send letters. We can talk on the phone, I left the number with my mom."
"Won't be the same," Jeongguk shakes his head. "You won't come back."
This time Jimin's the one that frowns. He flicks Jeongguk's forehead. "Of course I will, idiot," he says, ears burning red, "I'll always come back. I'll always be with you, remember? We wished on it."
Jeongguk's face goes bright red, he takes a step back. "Don't be so sappy, Jiminie," he whines.
Jimin laughs, launches himself at Jeongguk to pull him into a headlock.
Eunha shakes him awake when they get to their next destination. A northern town called Greenlyon. From what Jeongguk can see, there's not much green at all, though. It's larger than the previous towns they've been too, hilly but covered with buildings and homes, pavement and grey everywhere. It feels cold, in a way, despite the summer weather.
"You sleep like the dead, you know?" Eunha asks, shutting off the truck and motioning for him to hop out.
Jeongguk yawns, moves slower in his sleep—addled state. "Been told," he mumbles, ruffling his hair and running his hands down his face.
There's a clinic on this side of town that's been rebuilt where they're setting up shop. The hospital's on the opposite but still in pretty shabby conditions.
"There's some alchemists in town," their coordinator lets them know, the local medic. "Said they would hopefully get it done soon."
"Cushy bastards will probably take forever," Yugyeom says with a grin, "I should've taken the state exam and skipped out on all this slumming we're doing."
Jeongguk reaches out to poke him where he knows Yugyeom is ticklish. "As if you'd pass," he laughs, bypassing him to go back to the truck bed. They've gotta set up their tent since the clinic's too small for them to crowd in their as well. "You're not the brightest bulb in the box, Gyeom."
"Look who's talking!"
He passes by the side of the building, into the alley they parked in and feels a tug in his gut. Like he's taken these steps before. Something beyond his control compels him to turn his head, look to the side. Unsettled, he does, catching sight of a brick with an eagle carved into it. Jeongguk frowns, stepping forward to trace his thumb over it. It's nothing like the ones he was used to as a child, happy and cartoonish, but it still strikes him as familiar.
Jeongguk puts the thought out of his mind, chalks it up to yearnings he shouldn't be having. He's just feeling homesick, that's all.
Around noon, they head to the old hospital. It's abandoned at the moment, left to the will of the alchemists to fix up. But one of the remaining town doctors lives nearby, working out of his home, and offered them some of his share of supplies. Jeongguk jumped at the chances to meet him — he's a real doctor, after all. Jeongguk wants a chance to pick his brain. Mingyu said he just wanted to be a kiss ass but he was excited too, tagging along almost immediately.
They spend as long as they can afford to at the office, asking questions, borrowing books, even shadowing Dr. Zeel, who had offered at the twinkle in their eyes.
It's different, working under someone with so much experience, he's more critical, more detached. Jeongguk admires it, even if he doesn't think he could ever be like that.
They leave with promises to come back — Jeongguk walking with a skip in his step. It was validating, to see how much he actually did now, to know he wasn't just consistently fucking up with all the patients he's taken so far. He's so caught up in his thoughts that it takes him a second to realize what he's seeing when his eyes catch on a figure, following it down a road.
Jeongguk freezes, does a doubletake. All he catches as the man rounds the corner is the flash of a white pendant, the same as the one hanging around Jeongguk's own neck.
"What?" Mingyu asks, backtracking quickly, peering in the direction Jeongguk is staring at as he clutches his necklace tightly. "What happened, what are you looking at?"
"I'm..." Jeongguk trails off, frowning and craning his neck. "I'm not sure. I thought I saw... Someone , I don't know. I think I'm going crazy."
"Who?" Mingy looks back and forth between Jeongguk's face and the people milling about on the street.
"No one, my mind's playing tricks on me," Jeongguk shrugs, smiling as they turn back around, "I swear I saw my necklace though. Watch it be from some shitty gift shop or something."
"Oh! Or! It could be that alchemist Mrs. Choi was talking about! What a coincidence, huh? Fate, you could even say."
The thought sits uncomfortably heavy and sticky in Jeongguk's mind, even as he tries to shake it off. He knows what Mingyu's trying to get at, shoves him in the arm.
"Let's get pastries," Jeongguk says, spying a bakery up ahead, knowing full well it'll get Mingyu distracted enough to leave him alone. Still, his voice rings in Jeongguk's head. Whispers of alchemists and fate.
Jimin and Jeongguk are giggly messes, huddling under their shared blanket even though it isn't anywhere near cold. It's been a calmer few weeks and their mothers let them camp outside in their little makeshift tent of sheets pitched over their heads in makeshift beds of blankets rolled up under them.
It was ridiculous and they would wake up with cricks in their necks, but they loved it anyway. Jeongguk told Jimin scary stories, laughing at his misery. Asking him what kind of eleven year old is scared of ghosts when even Jeongguk isn't and he's nine . Jimin grumbles but shoves himself impossibly closer anyway, changes the subject to stories of their future and how they'll be next door neighbors, just like now.
"I wanna be a really famous alchemist when I grow up," Jimin tells him proudly. "You can be one too."
"I don't wanna," Jeongguk sniffs, bored of alchemy by now, the wonder having worn off and the need to prove himself to Jimin disappearing slowly as well.
"Why not," Jimin stares at him in shock, personally offended. Alchemy was the best thing to him. A passion, even at his age. Being able to create , it gave him a rush. "Look at your brother, he's the coolest alchemist I know."
"He's the coolest in general," Jeongguk giggles.
"No, but really," Jimin scrambles to sit up, taking the blankets with him, so Jeongguk follows suit. They sit with their knees pressed together, Jimin's hands on his as he leans forward in excitement, practically headbutting Jeongguk. "Teacher Mae said he's the best student she's ever had," he rushes the words out, practically bouncing up and down, "That he could make history if he went for the state exam. Bet they'd give him a super cool name."
"Nah, Junghyun would never do that," Jeongguk pops Jimin's bubble, poking at his cheek when he pouts. "You know he doesn't like soldiers."
"Yeah but," Jimin falls back on his butt, crossing his arms over his chest, crinkling his t-shirt, "He's so good."
"You sound like you're in love with my brother , Jiminie," Jeongguk snickers, "Gross!"
"I'm not!" Jimin kicks out at Jeongguk, falling back against his pillow, "Shut up, brat!" Jimin doesn't know what love would be like, in that way. But he knows there's only four people in the world he loves right now. Jeongguk is one of them.
Jeongguk smooths down a bandaid on the boy's leg, trying to make sure he stays still and doesn't kick him in the face in the process.
"You should be more careful," he says, smiling as he settles the boy down on the ground.
"Yes sir!" the boy mock-salutes him, standing at attention. He'd come in crying only twenty minutes prior — so badly that Jeongguk thought there was a dire emergency. He'd just gotten a scrape while playing in a construction zone, and it hurt to badly for him to hobble all the way home.
Jeongguk remembers being this age, getting cuts and scrapes and bruises everywhere. The only things that would make them hurt a little less were his mother's kisses, cool band-aids, and Jimin.
Jeongguk shakes his head, trying desperately to ground himself in the present. He sighs and pats the boy's head. "You're gonna be fine but tell your mom what happened and make sure to put ice on it, okay?"
The boy pouts, is ready to protest for the hundredth time that his mother definitely doesn't need to know — or else he'll get in trouble and won't be allowed to play with his girlfriend anymore. Jeongguk can't even begin to fathom how an eight year old managed a girlfriend, much less one he sees outside of the five minutes they stand bashfully near each other at school.
It's at that very moment the said girlfriend blows through into their tent, yelling for the bow.
"Raimund!" she runs into his arms, clinging at him while holding a chocolate bar in one hand, and a small stone bird in the other, "I got your mom! I thought you were gonna die!"
Jeongguk laughs, standing by as the little drama takes place. A woman steps in following the little girl, no doubt Raimund's mother.
"Sorry for the soap opera," she laughs, reaching out to shake his hand. "Thank you for looking after my Rai."
"It's no problem at all," Jeongguk grins, finding it hard to look away from the teary eyed grade schoolers, "He's a good kid." Jeongguk straightens up, smiles at the mother. "But seems to like getting into tough places?" he laughs at her exasperated nod, "He'll be fine, nothing to worry about. Just make sure to ice his leg and he'll be good to go."
"See, I'm good to go," Raimund says, tugging on his girlfriend's hand and snagging his mother's with his free one. "That means we should get ice cream."
"Yes!" the little girl jumps along, dropping her toy in the process.
"Oh, let me get that," Jeongguk bends down, picking up the tiny bird. He pauses while looking at it, his mouth dropping open in surprise. Staring up at him is the same childlike happy face that he'd gotten so used to as a kid. Jeongguk's heart thunders in his chest, knowing exactly what this could mean, unsure of whether he's terrified or excited.
"Hey Doc, you okay?" Raimund asks, his hand faltering from where he was waiting for Jeongguk to hand him the bird.
"Um," Jeongguk chokes out, throat tight. "Where did you get this?" He holds up the bird, his hand is shaking. He feels a little like he's falling apart.
Raimund doesn't notice at all, brightening up instead. "There was this super cool alchemist! By the hospital. He made that for me and I gave it to Dinah. He was super awesome, he even had one of those fancy watches."
Raimund keeps rambling on but Jeongguk's world fades out, static noise filling up his ears. All he can think about is the flash of a white pendant, the familiar gait, the feeling of home he hasn't felt in years. The world shifts beneath Jeongguk's feet, and he's afraid he's going to fall.
Carefully, he hands the bird back to Raimund, turns to his mother and apologizes. "I'm sorry, I've just..." Jeongguk shakes his head, "I've forgotten something, I need to go."
"Yes, of course—" Jeongguk's out of the tent in a flash.
On unsteady legs, he runs.
He doesn't find him. He runs, he gets to the hospital, he gets inside the barely put together frame, but Jimin isn't there.
Jeongguk's just about given up. He's wandering around aimlessly, out of breath, ears burned red from embarrassment. A few people saw him running, out of his mind with panic and possibility, anxiety battling relief in his chest, but they couldn't possibly know what was happening.
Still, Jeongguk feels bitterly childish for even having the hope.
He ends up back at the entrance of the hospital. It's the only area of the building that seems to be as good as new. Shiny and pristine. There's only one blemish near the plaque, and once Jeongguk gets closer, he feels that sinking feeling of deja vu once again.
Jeongguk raises his hand, presses his thumb against the eagle carved into the stone wall. The same eagle carved into the wall of the clinic.
"Hey," comes a voice from behind him. All the air in Jeongguk's lungs rushes out all at once. "You probably shouldn't be here right now. S'not very secure..." the voice trails off. Jeongguk's feet feel like they're glued to the ground, caught in wet cement. His eyes sting, his heart is trying to push its way out of his chest. "Hey, kid, did ya hear me? Are you okay?"
"I'm not a kid," he says, voice rough, low. He clears his throat, speaks louder, but his voice still shakes, "I'm not a kid."
There's no response, silence as loud as Jeongguk's buzzing veins. Slowly, slowly, so slowly, he turns around.
Jimin stands there, in all his glory, a mere five feet away from him. Half his uniform on and a smudged white shirt sitting stark against his sun—tanned frame. Jeongguk feels like he's dreaming.
The air is charged but still, neither of them move. Jimin stares at him, lips parting over and over on words that refuse to move past his lips. Jeongguk feels like he waits eons before Jimin finally speaks, again. Before Jeongguk can hear his voice agai.
"Jeonggukie..." he says it softly, reverently almost, a smile slowly breaking out on his face.
Jeongguk lets out the smallest gasp, an almost-sob. There's so much he's thinking and feeling — there's anger and frustration, hurt and fear, so much anxiety, crawling thick up his spine, but above all, above all.
All it takes is Jimin taking one step forward for Jeongguk to fly at him, throw himself into Jimin's arms. There's so much he's feeling but this is the most important, that grounding, that immediate sense of belonging. The relief. He can deal with the rest of it later but right now, above all else, he needs to feel Jimin, needs to bask in knowing that he's really there.
"Jiminie."
Jeongguk runs, as fast as his legs can carry him. He's not supposed to. His mother sent him to his room, said he was to stay there and she would let him know what was happening. But she didn't understand. This was Jimin. He couldn't just sit while Jimin could be hurt.
So he climbed down the tree next to his window and he ran, only thinking of making sure his best friend was alright, and not at all of what danger he could be putting himself in.
In the distance, smoke continued to rise toward the clouds. No doubt the explosion point. Something twists in Jeongguk's gut. Jimin's name runs through his mind, a chant, a prayer, a please let him be alright.
They meet halfway, both at full speed, crashing into each other and tumbling down a hill. Jeongguk lands a few feet away from Jimin. There's a cut on his arm but he can't be bothered. He pushes himself to his knees, scrambling over as fast as he can manage. Jimin heaves as he forces himself up, Jeongguk already clutching at his shirt by the time he sits up.
"I thought," Jeongguk gasps, there are tears on his cheeks, he realizes belatedly, "I thought you were dead!"
Jimin says nothing, tears of his own falling. He just shakes his head, pulls Jeongguk to his chest and holds him tight, to the point where it hurts but Jeongguk doesn't want him to let go.
"I really did," Jeongguk hiccups, fingers tight in the fabric of Jimin's shirt, "They said there was an explosion at your school and no one heard from you and I thought—"
"I'm fine," Jimin interrupts, voice wobbly and watery, "It was so scary Jeonggukie."
They stay there like that for so long the sun begins to change positions. "My mom will be worried," Jeongguk realizes suddenly, sitting up, pulling away, "She told me to stay put, she'll be so worried, oh god."
He's trying to push to his feet, panic abrupt and consuming but Jimin pulls him back down with a desperate, "Wait!"
He holds onto Jeongguk's hands until he sits, right in front of Jimin, knee to knee. "I was running because— because I was scared and I realized something."
"What?" Jeongguk asks, voice hushed. This feels important, he knows. And getting grounded might be the scariest thing to a ten year old but if it's important to Jimin, he can sit a moment longer and risk it. "What happened?"
Jimin looks at him for a long moment. "There's just something I need to do," he says. Jeongguk nods along, even if he doesn't understand. "Close your eyes for me?"
Jeongguk does, reaches out right after to hold Jimin's hands. He trusts him, wholly, but he needs that anchor, to be grounded.
It's no use. A moment later, there’s a brush against his lips, a soft press, and Jeongguk's eyes shoot open. Jimin's leant forward, pressing his lips to Jeongguk's own and any grounding Jeongguk was hoping for is tossed away.
It's warm, and soft, and Jeongguk is flying. He's flying, even as his hands hold tighter, and his eyes clench shut, and he presses back, unsure of what he's doing just that it's making him want to burst, to yell and scream and do it again, maybe.
Jimin pulls away after a second. It takes Jeongguk a moment longer to unscrew his eyes and look at him. Jimin's blushing, Jeongguk's sure he is too, with how hot his face feels and the lightheaded sensation he's experiencing. His pulse thunders, the way it usually does around Jimin but tenfold.
"You're important to me Jeonggukie," Jimin says, eyes shining. "I thought I was going to die too and... I just need you to know you're important to me."
— end part i —