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“Did you see them?” Donghyuck’s voice is hushed, barely audible in the small space of the electrical room.
It’s too dark to see anything, actually―somebody cut the lights―but Jeno is making quick work of the wires in front of him. The dim glow coming from the helmet of his cyan spacesuit isn’t much, but it’s enough. Jeno’s always been good with this kind of thing; it’s the very reason he was chosen for this mission.
Donghyuck has his back, facing the door, searching for any sign of movement even though the entrance is shrouded in darkness from where he stands. Every now and then he hears a clang, heart jumping into his throat before he confirms it’s only Jeno’s tools clinking against the metal of the breaker board. It takes what feels like an eternity, but Jeno finally does it.
The lights flick on and several things happen in quick succession: One, Donghyuck notices the open vent in the corner of the room. Two, he hauls Jeno to his feet and books it for the door, practically dragging his crewmate toward the opening. Three, he collides into the orange-clad chest of none other than Jaemin Na, also known as the renowned pilot of this cursed spaceship, which is notable because Jaemin really should be at his post. It’s odd that he isn’t, but not as odd as what happens next.
Jeno’s breath hitches in his throat, and Donghyuck turns to see Mark Lee with his body halfway out of the vent and a crazed look on his blood-splattered face. He’s holding a knife, and Donghyuck would wonder where he got it if he wasn’t so preoccupied with bracing himself for the inevitable.
“Commander?” Jeno asks, like there’s any logical explanation for the sight before them other than the obvious: Mark killed Renjun and Jisung, and it’s starting to look like Donghyuck and Jeno are next.
“Hey, Jeno. Donghyuck,” Mark says casually, like they’re just having a chat in the admin room. Donghyuck tries to back away, but he doesn’t even make it a full step before his back is pressed up against Jaemin’s chest, stopping him in his tracks.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Jaemin sing-songs, voice dripping with artificial sugar. “Now that you know our secret, we can’t just let you leave.” He clamps a hand on Donghyuck’s shoulder, pinning him in place as Mark steps toward them.
Jeno looks like he’s about to argue, plead their case, but then Mark stops abruptly and jerks his chin at something behind them. Donghyuck doesn’t particularly care to know what’s gotten Mark’s attention, but Jaemin manhandles him into facing the door, forcing him to look out the window across the hallway. A familiar lime spacesuit floats past the pane, and Donghyuck is just close enough to make out Chenle’s stiff expression through the frosted glass of his helmet. He can see the ice in Chenle’s eyebrows, the black and blue discolouring his lips, and he thinks he may be sick. His mind flashes back to Renjun, severed in half by a fallen engine part, and then Donghyuck really does gag.
They’re the only ones left.
The revelation hits him so hard it knocks the wind out of him and he has to grab onto Jeno’s hand to steady himself. Something about it makes Jaemin laugh, that stupid cackle like he knows something they don’t. Which, all things considered, has been true this whole mission―ever since day one when Mark found Jisung swinging from the ceiling of the cafeteria. Donghyuck never suspected that Mark was the one who tied him up there, but Jaemin was obviously in on the joke from the very beginning.
Donghyuck, for once in his life, is at a complete loss. He can only stand there, holding onto Jeno like a lifeline, wishing he could say so many things and having no words for any of them. Jeno squeezes his hand in an attempt to be reassuring, and the pressure is grounding, but Donghyuck’s heart is still trying to punch its way through his sternum.
“I think,” Mark says, clearly addressing Jaemin, “that we should give them a chance.”
Jaemin shifts, and Donghyuck refuses to look at his face but he’s clearly considering Mark’s words. “What do you have in mind?”
Mark tosses the knife onto the ground, kicking it toward them, and Jaemin releases Donghyuck so he can pick it up. “Go. We’ll give you a head start.”
Donghyuck and Jeno share a look, frozen to the spot in case this is some kind of trap. Jaemin gives them an impatient shove out the door, laughing again as he tosses a mocking, “See you soon!” over his shoulder before jumping into the vent behind Mark.
That snaps Donghyuck out of it. He tugs Jeno by the arm, running to nowhere in particular, just to be in motion. A moving target is harder to catch, he figures, and it’s their best chance of survival. Jeno has some sort of epiphany, taking the lead halfway down the hall to guide Donghyuck to the communications room. Donghyuck sees his logic; their mission is supposed to last for another month, and there are only so many places to go on this ship. Time is not on their side.
Mark and Jaemin, as always, are one step ahead of them. The communications line has been cut, server all but demolished, so they’re stuck out here until their scheduled return to Earth. They’ll never make it, and they both know it, but they eventually decide on the best plan they can think of: grab as many supplies as they can, and watch the security cameras in shifts. Knowing where Mark and Jaemin are is infinitely better than the alternative.
At first, it seems like it will work. They agree that they need to stay together―splitting up would only make them easier targets. They gather as many tools as they can carry without incident, easily acquire a stash of food from the cafeteria, and make it safely to the security room despite the armfuls of supplies rendering them effectively defenseless. Jeno rigs the door so it won’t open from the outside, and they settle in for the long haul, feeling more optimistic than they have this entire mission.
They should have known it was too good to be true, too easy to be anything but intentional.
It takes all of three hours since they secured their little refuge, five hours in total since they got their head start, and that’s apparently all the advantage Mark and Jaemin think they deserve. Donghyuck and Jeno had been confident they’d thought of everything, but there’s one detail they failed to account for, sitting unnoticed in the corner of the room till now.
The vent door creaks open, slamming against the floor as Jaemin throws it open with very little delicacy, pulling himself out with his upper body strength. Jaemin doesn’t have a weapon that Donghyuck can see, but he still clutches the knife in his hand, just in case. Jaemin turns to pull Mark up through the opening, completely blase about the whole thing like he’s in no hurry. It belatedly occurs to Donghyuck that he probably isn’t; Mark and Jaemin can drag this out as long as they like. Donghyuck and Jeno are the only ones fighting the clock. They’re at a clear disadvantage.
It’s then that it hits him―there’s only one way to beat Mark and Jaemin. Donghyuck ignores them in favour of turning to Jeno, holding out a shaky hand to pull him closer. “Jen, I need to tell you something.” It’s a whisper, but Donghyuck’s voice still cuts through the fragile air.
Jeno just looks at him as Donghyuck takes his helmet off, dropping it unceremoniously at his feet. Jeno takes the hint, removing his own helmet and setting it on the desk beside them as he says, “Tell me.”
Mark makes a move like he’s going to approach them, but Jaemin stops him with a hand held to his chest. He smiles like he’s entertained, intrigued to see where this is going, and Mark backs off, settling next to his partner to watch it play out. Donghyuck is only distantly aware of the interaction, too focused on Jeno, on telling him the thing that Donghyuck can’t bear to die and leave unsaid. “I love you, Jen,” he says softly, and Mark’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as Jaemin giddily elbows him in the ribs as if to say I told you so. “I’ve loved you since our first day at the academy.”
Jeno, for his part, doesn’t say anything. He just stares into Donghyuck’s eyes for a solid minute, not moving, hardly breathing. Then he’s surging forward, and taking Donghyuck’s face in his gloved hands, and crashing their lips together with all the passion of a dying man. Donghyuck hears someone―probably Jaemin―clap off to the side, but he’s too wrapped up in the moment to really register anything but Jeno and the sharp piercing pain blooming between his ribs.
When they separate, Donghyuck’s hands are covered in blood and the knife is dripping red, and he can’t tell if it’s Jeno’s blood or his own, now. When he looks down at his chest, the gash on his left side is soaking through his spacesuit, a steadily growing patch of carmine that stains his white suit a sick shade of pink. He drops the knife, hears it clank against the floor, and then crumples to his knees.
Jaemin is livid. Mark is ripping a pipe off the wall, steam hissing through the small space, in some sort of makeshift weapon. Donghyuck knows they’ll be dead by the time Mark can make them feel anything, and Jeno knows it, too. He knew it the moment Donghyuck flashed him the knife during his confession, blade catching the light to signal his plan. The kiss was clever, a great cover for Donghyuck to drive the knife through each of their sides without the others catching on. Jeno’s always been clever.
Donghyuck hears the words as Jeno takes Donghyuck’s viscid hand in his. “Thank you.”
Donghyuck isn’t sure if Jeno is thanking him for the confession, or the kiss, or the finishing blow, but it doesn’t really matter in the end. Donghyuck would do it all over again, if just for the chance to hold Jeno like this.
He vaguely detects movement in his peripheral vision as Jaemin and Mark rush toward them, but Donghyuck’s eyes never leave Jeno’s. There’s no window nearby, but Donghyuck still dies looking at the stars.