Work Text:
The alarms blare.
He hears yelling—Chanyeol, he thinks distantly—red fire licking up towards the sky, billowing plumes of ash obscuring his vision and forcing tears to his eyes.
Yixing turns in the smoke, unable to see, stumbling across the dirt towards where he hears the screams coming from.
Yixing, where are you? Lu Han’s voice echoes through his mind, and Yixing could sob, he’s so relieved to hear him.
I don’t know, he thinks, but projects an image of the silhouette of the building in front of him anyways, hoping that Lu Han will be able to at least narrow in on his position that way.
We’ll find you, Xing, he reassures.
A faint pop and the familiar smell of ozone brings a rush of relief to Yixing before he’s being roughly grabbed by the elbow and teleported away.
❈
“Are you hurt?” is the first thing Yixing hears when he opens his eyes again, pitching forwards slightly—despite how many times Jongin has teleported him, Yixing doubts he’ll ever really get over the nauseating feeling that comes with it—and looking up at Lu Han, who’s stepped forward to catch him, running worried hands down Yixing’s arms and up to his cheeks.
Yixing squirms, uncomfortable with all the attention.
“I’m fine,” he says quickly, pulling out of Lu Han’s grip. His elbow is still being held by Jongin, who’s standing next to him, however, watching him with equally worried eyes, and Yixing smiles softly at him, trying to ease some of the younger’s concern.
“Where are the others?” he turns to look around—they’re back at the abandoned house they had been sheltering at for the last few weeks—his gaze falls on Minseok and Kyungsoo holding down a screaming Chanyeol, Junmyeon trying desperately to bind the massive wound he has on his side. Yifan is cradling an unconscious Jongdae on the ground, Tao tending to the raw, red burns on Sehun’s arms.
Yixing feels faint.
One, two, three, he counts, eight, nine, ten. He stops. Pauses.
They’re missing someone.
He looks at the boys in front of him again.
Baekhyun.
Yixing turns, frantic. “Where’s Baekhyun?” he asks, and he prays that his voice doesn’t come off as desperate as it sounds in his mind.
It’s miniscule, but Lu Han’s expression falters before smoothing back over. Yixing wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been looking for it. Yixing pulls his arm out of Jongin’s grip, which had gotten tighter around his elbow when he had spoken. “Where is he,” he asks again, dangerous, stepping toe to toe with the elder, nose to nose.
When Lu Han exhales, Yixing can feel his hot breath press against his face. “We had to leave him,” he said. Yixing feels a chill run through his body at the words—the edges of his vision darken briefly, and he sways, Jongin quickly coming back to support his body.
“Take me back,” he says to Jongin, imploring.
The teleporter looks back at him, pained. “Hyung—”
“Please, Jongin,” he begs, heart in his throat. “Please.”
“Yixing—” Lu Han cuts in. “You know we can’t. We’re too injured. Jongin’s too tired. And Baekhyun’s strong. You know he is, Xing.”
Tears edge at his waterline, and he’s furious. “So we’re giving up on him? He’s part of our team, our family, and we’re leaving him?”
“No one’s leaving him, Yixing, I promise,” Lu Han reasons, and though Yixing has wanted to slap Lu Han on multiple occasions for being a little shit, he has never wanted to slap him more in this moment.
“We need you here, Xing. Please—” and this, this is the closest Yixing has ever heard Lu Han sound desperate.
He wants to scream in frustration, to hurt Lu Han the same way his words have hurt him, but deep down he knows that his anger is misplaced, that Lu Han is right and that none of them are in any condition to go back and rescue Baekhyun. Hands pull him in roughly into an embrace, and Yixing fights it before recognizing the futility of the action, letting his tears soak through Jongin’s dusty shirt.
Lips press softly against the top of his head, reassuring, “When you’re ready, hyung.”
Yixing takes a deep breath, nods, and turns to fix his family.
❈
It hurts like hell, afterwards.
He’s never said anything—Yixing doesn’t want to burden the others with the knowledge that what he has hurts him, that his power is more about balance and less about healing, about taking away hurt and replacing it with his own.
He’s gotten good at keeping his expressions neutral as he heals, which, really, is never that difficult to do, as the pain doesn’t come until later, when he least expects it. The others have never asked, either, the times when Yixing has slipped up and let a grimace mar his face, assuming that it’s directed towards the difficulty of the task at hand.
And Yixing is glad.
He’ll take his secret to the grave, if he must, if it means that he can continue to heal the members, make sure they’re safe and healthy and sound.
He hurts, and he doesn’t say a word.
❈
The wrench in his plan comes in the form of Kim Jongin.
There’s always the faint smell of ozone that precedes Jongin’s arrival, and that’s all the warning Yixing gets before the teleporter materializes into his room, smoke trailing hazily off his clothes.
Yixing rolls his eyes. “It’s rude to burst into someone’s room like that you know,” he chides, but his tone is fond.
Jongin shrugs, then smiles. “It’s not like we keep secrets.”
Yixing’s shoulders tense briefly, and he forces himself to relax. He hopes Jongin doesn’t notice. Instead, he pats the space next to him on the bed, a silent offering, and Jongin walks over and settles beside him, head nestling instinctively against Yixing’s shoulder.
It’s easy to forget how young Jongin is, when this life of running and fighting has stolen years of carefree happiness from them, aged their souls, pressed down on their shoulders like the heaviness of the world is upon them. In a way, Yixing supposes, it is.
But in moments like these, when there is no sound but the steady beat of their hearts under their skin, the soft sound of each inhale and exhale they take, Yixing remembers all over again. It’s easy to feel bitter about the happiness that’s been stolen from them, but in the end, it doesn’t matter how they feel about it. This is the reality they live in. This is the life they have to fight for.
“We’ll find him, hyung.” Jongin moves his head and his soft hair tickles the side of Yixing’s neck. It makes Yixing shiver, and shift slightly away, a quiet hiss escaping the confines of his teeth as his ribs and muscles protest the movement.
Jongin snaps his head up, assessing Yixing sharply. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Fuck, Yixing thinks.
“Hyung,” Jongin says. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine.” He could be stubborn when he wanted to be.
The problem was, so could Jongin. He stands up, all six feet looming over him, and he looks angry. It takes him aback. “Don’t lie, Yixing hyung.”
“I’m not,” he protests, weakly.
A beat of silence, then—
Jongin snaps away sharply, leaving nothing but the acrid smell of ozone in the air and an ache that somehow hurts worse than his physical injuries, that settles into Yixing’s bones.
❈
They’re settled around the table in the living room—it’s practically falling apart, the chairs groaning every time one of them even shift their weight slightly, but it’s better than nothing—and they’re arguing.
“It’s been a week,” Jongdae’s voice is louder above the others, “we’ve rested long enough.” Beside him, Minseok has a hand settled around Jongdae’s wrist, presumably to calm him down.
Yixing nods in agreement, then steals a glance at Jongin, who refuses to look in his direction. His chest aches dully.
They haven’t talked since Jongin left him in his room, Jongin turning to talk to other members whenever Yixing walks by, Yixing sticking closer to Lu Han and Yifan, who frown at him but don’t comment, which he is grateful for.
He switches his gaze over to Lu Han, who is in deep discussion with Junmyeon. Lu Han scrubs a hand over his face, his typically mischievous features creased in worry. “None of us are still at full health,” Yifan says, seeing how Lu Han is struggling to get the words out.
The argument rises in volume.
Yixing picks at the scratches in the wood. There’s an itch under his skin that gets worse the longer he listens to them argue. The longer they wait, the longer Baekhyun hurts. He stands up, and the screech of his chair as it scrapes along the wooden floor makes everyone go quiet. “We’ll vote.”
As one of the older members, Yixing holds a certain authority to his words—even those older than him—Yifan, Minseok, Junmyeon, and Lu Han—still at his voice. Yixing looks around at the faces before him. “Okay,” Minseok speaks up, sending Yixing a small smile, and it warms him slightly.
Yifan and Lu Han nod as well, and the sight of the eldest three all siding with Yixing coerce the others into agreeing.
“All for rescuing Baekhyun now?”
Five hands.
Yixing raises his own.
“All for waiting longer?”
Five hands.
Yixing nods.
“That’s it then. We’ll leave tomorrow.”
He doesn’t look at Jongin before he quietly slips out of the room.
❈
It’s late when Yixing sits up in bed, unable to sleep. He’s been lying there for hours, everyone having been ordered to go to sleep early by Junmyeon in preparation for tomorrow’s rescue mission, but his mind hadn’t stopped whispering to him about the hurt look on Jongin’s face, the day when he had lied about being in pain.
He won’t admit it, but Jongin’s silence bothers him.
It’s better than admitting the truth though—that his power brings pain, because he knows that the others will tell him to stop using it, and what good is Yixing if he isn’t able to help? What purpose does he serve, beyond being a burden upon the others?
So he keeps his mouth shut, stubbornly, and bears the sting of Jongin’s silence.
❈
They’re standing in a half circle around Lu Han, who’s going over the last details to their plan. “Jongin, you’ll bring Tao and Jongdae first—Jongdae, you’ll be responsible for taking out their power grid—Tao, you know what to do. Then Jongin’s going to come back for Junmyeon and Minseok. Chanyeol and Yifan can take Kyungsoo and Sehun. Yixing and I will go with Jongin.”
Lu Han had been able to trace Baekhyun’s signature—it turned out that he had been kept in a facility not far from their own headquarters, which had hurt them all when they learned that he had been so close this whole time.
Yixing watches Jongin nod, swallowing around the heavy lump in his throat. Lu Han finishes speaking, and then pats Jongin on the shoulder, bringing him in for a hug. “I’ll see you in a little,” he promises, before taking Tao and Jongdae each by the hand and disappearing.
It might have been seconds, minutes—Yixing can’t keep track, his adrenaline is rushing too quickly—before the smell of ozone reappears and Jongin materializes, hair messy and clothes rumpled. He meets Yixing’s eyes, accidentally, before looking away quickly and grabbing the next set of members.
Yixing sighs, almost inaudibly, but Kyungsoo, who’s standing next to him, surprises Yixing by reaching out and straightening out the wrinkled bomber jacket he had thrown on hastily this morning. “He adores you, you know.”
The words surprise Yixing, and he stares like a fool at Kyungsoo, hope bubbling up into his chest before the meaning truly registers.
“He can’t,” and the words sound pained, even to Yixing.
Kyungsoo hits him lightly on the head. “I know you don’t think you deserve anything, hyung, but you do. You deserve to be cared for too, and Jongin clearly does, so stop pushing him away and let him do it.”
It’s not that easy, Yixing wants to retort, but gets cut off as Yifan comes over to them, dragon wings already out, reaching out for Kyungsoo, Sehun tucked under his other arm. Yifan glances between them, eyes questioning. “Ready to go?”
Kyungsoo gives Yixing another meaningful look before nodding his head in acquiescence.
Lu Han mumbles something to them that Yixing can’t catch, and soon, it’s just the two of them left, Yixing still staring at the spot where Yifan’s dragon form had disappeared into the blue of the sky.
He slings an arm around Yixing’s shoulder—he’s only slightly taller than Yixing, but he likes to rub it in—and settles, looking off into the sky as well. “Jongin will be here for us soon.”
Yixing nods.
He’s still thinking about Kyungsoo’s words—he adores you, you know—and so he doesn’t notice the signs of Jongin’s imminent arrival, startling when he appears with a soft thump a few paces behind them.
“Is it bad?” he hears Lu Han ask, and it’s those words that have Yixing’s heart ratcheting up a few paces as he turns to inspect Jongin as well. His previously clean clothes now have signs of wear—there are the familiar stains of blood, scuff marks and here and there, rips along the seams—and a large bruise blossoming across his cheek, a cut along his hairline slowly dripping blood into his eyes.
His heart is thudding in his ears—he can’t think, can’t feel—and he’s in front of Jongin in an instant, reaching out to brush a soothing hand against his jawline, up across the bruise and to the cut, thumbing away the hurts and aches along the way.
When he’s done, what’s left is fresh, newly healed skin and the startled look behind Jongin’s eyes.
Yixing closes his eyes to blink away the blurriness in them, and stumbles, dizzy. Healing Jongin had been all instinctual, born out of fear and worry, and it been at a pace that Yixing wasn’t used to, a pace that left him slightly out of breath and pale.
He doesn’t look back up to meet Lu Han or Jongin’s eyes, not wanting to see the concern behind them. “Let’s go,” is all he says, forcing the tremor out of his voice and gripping onto Jongin’s arm tightly, feeling Lu Han doing the same on the teleporter’s other side.
Jongin doesn’t say anything, but slips his arm out of Yixing’s to lace his warm fingers together with Yixing’s cold ones, squeezing tightly.
It sends a warm rush through Yixing’s veins.
He adores you, you know.
❈
Jongin lets go of his hand when they arrive. His hand tingles where Jongin’s fingers had been, palm pressed tightly against his own. Yixing shakes his head to clear it, brief flashes of lightning from Jongdae illuminating the chaos in front of them. “Stay behind me,” Lu Han orders, instinctively shoving Yixing behind with his arm, Jongin still by his side.
They walk forwards as a unit towards Sehun and Kyungsoo, who are working together to drive the forces into a massive pit Kyungsoo has created. Lu Han clears a path with his telekinetic abilities while Jongin is on the lookout from behind, ready to teleport them away if need be.
Yixing has never felt more useless.
From the corner of his eye, Yixing sees someone advancing towards them, Lu Han distracted with an enemy of his own and Jongin turned in the other direction, unaware. He barely has time to shout a warning before the man is right in front of him, and Yixing is forced to defend himself, quickly feinting left and brushing his fingers across the exposed skin of the other man’s hand, then dodging again before jabbing him in the place he knows will cut off the man’s circulation. As a healer, he knows the most vulnerable points of every human with one touch, and the brief connection his fingers had made with the man had told him exactly where he was the weakest. Hating the feeling of being useless, he had forced Minseok to teach him hand-to-hand combat one afternoon, despite the eldest’s initial reluctance.
There’s a gurgled gasp before the man goes down, and Yixing feels Jongin pull him back, turn his body towards him as if Jongin has to check that no part of Yixing is injured. “I’m fine,” he dismisses, and turns him back around so he can continue to cover Lu Han. Jongin looks like he wants to argue, or perhaps apologize, but before he can do so, more of the men from the Red Force come charging towards them.
At some point in the fighting, Yixing feels Lu Han push into his mind. At his side, he can feel Jongin stiffen as well, so it must mean that Lu Han is talking to him as well. “Jongin, bring Yixing with you to the facility. We’ll keep them distracted out here. Most of the scientists have probably escaped by now, or are transporting the prisoners to other facilities, so you need to get to Baekhyun quickly.” There’s a pause before Lu Han continues, presumably trying to locate Baekhyun’s signature. “He’s on the highest floor, middle of the hall.”
Jongin nods, and his hand is wrapping around Yixing’s waist before he can protest, pulling him closer and the smell of ozone fills Yixing’s nose—
—he jolts forwards, off balance, and blinks at the artificially bright lights inside, the chilled air causing goosebumps to rise against his skin. Jongin has teleported them to exactly the location Lu Han had told them, so Yixing is close enough to feel the faint hum of Baekhyun’s presence, the rushing of blood beneath his skin, his heartbeat, weak, but steady.
“This way,” he is the one who pulls Jongin, this time, and he guides them to where Baekhyun’s energy is pulsing strongest.
The door is of course, locked, reinforced with heavy duty, bullet proof steel, impossible for anyone to open without the passcode. But just because the door is impossible to open does not mean that what is inside cannot escape. Yixing anxiously watches the corridor for any sign of danger as the smell of ozone permeates the air before Jongin vanishes entirely. The smell of ozone hasn’t quite faded before it gets stronger once more, Jongin landing with a weak, barely conscious Baekhyun in his arms. Jongin pitches forwards, unused to the extra weight, and Yixing quickly reaches out to grab his waist and steady him.
Yixing looks up, and their eyes lock. For a moment, it seems like Jongin is about to say something, expression tender and gentle and so so soft, but the liquid heat running through Yixing’s veins turns quickly to ice when he spies the white gas curling ominously towards them.
His grip tightens on Jongin’s waist, transferring whatever he has left of his energy as he yells for him to go, to take them out, voice barely audible over the flashing sirens that have now gone off.
One, two beats of his heart, three—
❈
They make it back in one piece, thankfully.
Though Yixing has never had any doubts about Jongin’s abilities, he knows it was beyond draining on the teleporter to make so many trips consecutively, especially with passengers on the side.
As Yixing focuses on healing Baekhyun, the others slowly make their way back to headquarters in increments, alerted by Jongin that they had successfully rescued Baekhyun. Yixing notes with relief that on the outside, Baekhyun isn’t terribly hurt—there are minor scrapes and bruises, some larger than others.
“He’s fine,” Yixing tells the others when he finally exits the room, closing the door gently behind him. “He’s sleeping.”
There’s a collective sigh of relief between them all, and the air feels physically lighter.
Yixing smiles softly at the faces gathered round him, and perhaps his smile is a little more genuine towards one of them in particular. Yixing is happy—or at least, the happiest he can be, in this moment. Everyone is alive, he repeats to himself like a mantra, everyone is here, everyone will be fine.
❈
It’s fine until it’s been a week and Baekhyun still hasn’t woken up.
Yixing has been spending nearly every waking moment with him, which, in truth, is most of the day considering he can’t sleep, plagued by thoughts of what he needs to do better in order to heal him. Lu Han and Yifan force him to lie down and try to sleep in his own bed, sometimes, when they find him slumped over Baekhyun’s, staring hard at him as if he can mentally will him awake again.
Physically, Baekhyun is fine.
Mentally, Yixing isn’t so sure.
And this is the problem—Yixing feels helpless, because he’s run his fingers over Baekhyun’s skin several times, checking and double checking for clues as to why the younger won’t wake up, and because this isn’t how his power works—it only heals when he can actually find something to fix.
He doesn’t know what they had done to Baekhyun in there, while he was locked away. He’s not sure he wants to know. But when he touches him, probing for the source of his state, he finds nothing.
Yixing sits up with a gasp.
He finds nothing.
There’s no quiet hum of power, no sense of the essence that makes up Baekhyun, none of it. Instead, he’s still, quiet, empty.
Sitting up, he folds his sleeves back before pressing both hands firmly to Baekhyun’s chest. He closes his eyes, and focuses.
Digging deeper than he had ever had before, he tries to search for the root of Baekhyun’s power, desperate for any hint that it’s still there. It has to be, he thinks, there’s no way it’s just gone. If he can’t find it, it’s just because he still isn’t trying hard enough.
He’s close to giving up when he feels it.
It’s small, barely anything at all, but it’s there, and Yixing imagines that it’s a small flicker of flame, and he taps on his own source of energy and pours everything he has into it, feeding the fire. He doesn’t know if it will work—doesn’t know if he can heal what’s been lost, but he has to try. Vaguely, he can feel his body trembling, muscles aching and beginning to sweat, and he knows that he’s reaching the edge of his limits. Still, it’s not enough, and he pushes himself further, watching as the glow of Baekhyun’s power grows minutely.
Wake up, he thinks. Please wake up.
His vision begins to thin out, breaths trembling as he gathers whatever he has left and pushes it through his hands and into Baekhyun’s body.
“Yixing,” he thinks he hears someone yell from the doorway, but he can’t muster up the energy to turn to look. Footsteps, muffled as if heard from underwater, rush up to him, then strong hands grab his arms and try to tear him away from Baekhyun.
He falls limp in the person’s arms, staring at the floor, which has drops of blood on it. He panics for a moment, thinking it came from Baekhyun, but realizes it’s from himself when the metallic taste of blood filters into his mouth from his nose. He’s being cradled in someone’s lap now, those same warm hands cupping his chin and wiping the blood away, anxious eyes peering down at him.
He thinks he recognizes him, but he isn’t sure. Everything is blurry and keeping his eyes open hurts.
“Yixing,” he hears again, before his body shuts down and everything goes dark. It sounds almost like Jongin, to Yixing’s addled mind.
He hopes it’s Jongin.
❈
It’s quiet, and warm when he wakes.
There’s a hand slung across his waist, fingers curled tightly into his shirt as if they couldn’t bear to let go. Slowly, Yixing becomes aware of the soft breaths against the back of his neck, little strands of hair tickling him.
He’s about to turn, to try and see which one of his members is cuddling him, when he hears a sniff and feels a drop of warm liquid drip onto his neck, soaking into his shirt. “Come back, hyung,” he hears whispered quietly, “I need you.”
He stills, but his heart stutters and Yixing has to will himself to keep his breaths even, as if he were still sleeping.
“I was so selfish, and so stupid, and I shouldn’t have pushed you away like that and I was being so immature and I—I just felt hurt that you couldn’t trust me but now you won’t wake up and I can’t tell you and—” Yixing can’t listen any longer. He moves his hand down to cover the one still gripped tightly in his shirt, and turns to his other side, his entire body aching from the simple movement, reaching up with his other hand to brush away the dark hair covering Jongin’s eyes.
Shocked, Jongin stares back at him before closing the small distance between them and kissing him. The kiss is soft, more a gentle press of lips than anything else, but Yixing feels hot tears land between them, and he isn’t sure if they’re from him, or Jongin, or perhaps from both.
“I love you,” the words, unbidden, slip out from Yixing’s mouth.
“I love you too,” Jongin whispers back, between kisses, “but I think that you already knew that, hyung.”
Later, they’ll talk about why Yixing felt like he had to keep secrets about the consequences of his powers, but for now, they lie there, soaking in each other’s warmth and watching as dawn breaks and they can see the first rays of light shining, golden and splendid across their figures.