Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jisung’s days start when the sun peaks over the horizon and splits the sky into orange and blue. The orange gradually gives way to a pale, dusty pink that clings to the edges of the earth as it pushes the midnight blue further and further away. Jisung waits until the soft yellow begins to appear in the sky before he gets up, attempting to chase after the last remnants of sleep. His dreams provide a kind warmth that doesn’t burn like the scorching sun. Once, he was able to sleep well into when the sky was a bright blue and the sand was just beginning to warm up. These days, he counts himself lucky if he wakes to the violent reds and softer yellows chasing away the dark.

Pouring water into a small tin, Jisung frowns as he examines his pantry. It's a choice between last week's haul of portion bread packets, a portion bread packet covered in dust, and some strange portion bread packet claiming to have the same taste as the most exquisite meal at an Elder's gala. He ends up picking the dusty packet, ripping it open with his teeth and trying not to cough as he stirs the mixture in water. Not his smartest idea.

By the time Jisung finishes eating, the sky is bright and the sand is still cool to touch. There's still a section of the Starship Graveyard Jisung hasn't explored yet, several wayward starfighters located further from the main wreckage. He has plenty of time to scavenge before he needs to head back to the trading outpost and see if on the off-chance some travel-weary strangler needs their ship fixed. There are still a few weeks, so Jisung remains hopeful.

Jisung's mind switches to autopilot once he arrives at the wreckage. Day in and day out, the same routine and only stories he spins inside his head to amuse him. Today he imagines a retelling of the space pirates in the Hapes Cluster, a system bathed in eternal daylight. The people there have allegedly evolved so that now, Hapans can no longer see in the dark. Jisung squints at the sun. It would be terribly inconvenient to be a Hapan space pirate and blind in the dark.

He’s hunched over, kneeling down on sand that will soon become uncomfortable. He’s busy taking apart the hyperdrive of the ship—there are still salvageable parts that earlier scavengers neglected—when something nudges his foot. Jisung stands up, whipping his head around. There’s no other living creature in sight except for him.

Beep.

The blip sounds weak and pitiful. Jisung looks down and is greeted with one of the strangest looking droids he's ever seen in his life. The base of the droid is a small, narrow rectangular box. The droid’s head is hemispheric and hangs precariously off one edge of the base. Jisung crouches down to examine the droid more carefully. Its cameras are large—almost too large for its already oversized head. There are tiny scratches all over the lens. Two rectangular pieces also droop on the sides of the droid’s heads, almost like ears. Looking closely Jisung can see how the ears are made of two halves, joined in the middle. Half of the left ear hangs by a thin wire.

“And whose droid are you?” Jisung wonders aloud.

The droid beeps incessantly, head spinning round and round. Sparks fly out of the broken ear.

“You’re gonna have to give me more than that,” Jisung cocks a hip, “Hey, listen, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna, but the other scavengers will just take you apart and sell all your pieces if you stay here.”

The droid’s ears flap up and down, as though in anger. Several clipped beeps follow.

Jisung says patiently, “Well, it’d at least be nice to have a name to call you by if you’re coming back home with me.” He nods as the droid lets out another slew of protests. It feels like he’s entertaining a small child. Jisung’s gaze sweeps over the starship wreckage surrounding them, eyes and ears alert for any other scavengers nearby. Beyond the waste, the sand dunes shift with the wind.

D. G. The droid punctuates each beep with an angry whir.

“Ooh-kay. That’s obviously a nickname.”

DAEGAL. YOU CAN CALL ME DAEGAL.

“And you can call me Jisung. See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Jisung chuckles, bending down to give Daegal a small pat. Daegal beeps happily in response.

Daegal is quiet for the most part, letting out the occasional beep when it thinks Jisung is getting too distracted by the space junk around them. Luckily they don’t run into any other scavengers on the way back to Jisung’s speeder. Still, Jisung can’t help shake the feeling that something has his eyes on him as he figures out a way to secure Daegal on his speeder while keeping the droid out in the open. Daegal is picky, as far as droids go, refusing to sit in the small trunk where Jisung normally puts the scraps he finds. The droid refuses to stay in Jisung’s knapsack as well, the second best option. So Jisung settles for hugging Daegal to his chest, rolling his eyes once he has his goggles on. At least Daegal is small, Jisung thinks to himself as they speed past the ever-shifting sand dunes.

Jisung somehow manages to convince Daegal to remain in the rundown spaceship he’s been using as a house for his entire life while he heads to the Niima Outpost. Daegal whirls around in circles across the narrow square of empty space as Jisung carefully locks the door. Jisung ignores the bounce as he slings his leg over the speeder.

The concession stand reeks, just like it always does. The junkboss stares Jisung down with his beady eyes behind dusty curtains as Jisung approaches the concession stand, not bothering to disguise his disgust.

“Three portions,” the junkboss tells him after he’s offered today’s findings. His fist slams down on the countertop with the coveted silver packets.

“Actually, I’d like to exchange these for some spare parts,” Jisung says, forcing his lips to curve upwards.

The junkboss is a mean-spirited Crolute. Jisung learned from a young age that anything less than a smile would lead to the junkboss doling out fewer portions than the current rate.

“Here.” The junkboss slams the pieces down, bits of spit flying through the cracks in the blinds and onto Jisung’s face. Jisung’s skin crawls. It feels a thousand times grimier than it did ten seconds ago. His fingers twitch as he forces down the urge to scrub his face clean of spit. He scoops the spare parts up, noting with distaste that it’s far less than what he should have received. There’s little room for negotiation when the shoddy mechanic shop he used to run has been out of commission for a majority of the year.

HELLO, Daegal greets when Jisung gets back.

Jisung chuckles as Daegal runs in circles around him.

"Okay, okay." He pats Daegal's head in slow, circular motions. A needy droid as well. "I managed to secure some parts to fix you up. You're going to have to sit tight. No spinning around."

The next series of beeps sound like a high-pitched whine.

Jisung bites back a grin. "Well, if you want me to fix you up, you're going to have to sit still. That's just the way it works."

Daegal turns its head towards him, dual cameras staring straight into Jisung's eyes. Jisung shrugs.

Fixing Daegal provides Jisung with a new sense of focus he hasn't possessed in years. His mind sharpens as he wipes the dust from Daegal's body. Slow and methodical, Jisung clears the small bits of dirt and grime from the droid's body. As he fiddles with the loose wires in Daegal's left ear, Jisung's mind empties save for the task in front of him.

It used to be that Jisung couldn't sit still while fixing droids or old junk parts. He would always turn impatient, hissing at the small shocks to his fingers when a wire short-circuited, or become bored if something took more than a couple of hours to repair. These days, he doesn't have the luxury of running off to hop onto his speeder for a few quick laps around the desert just because he doesn't feel like fixing something up. Scavenging only brings so much and work these days is rare, fewer traders have been coming through so even fewer starships are in need of repair. No one would risk coming to Jakku with a broken starship. Not with its desolate lands and deserts haunted by the ghosts of war.

"There. All done," Jisung says, patting Daegal on its head. He frowns at one of the remaining blemishes, spitting into the old cloth then using it to wipe it away.

Daegal's ears flap up and down vigorously.

"Well you're probably the type of droid that hates going around looking less than perfect. I may have enough portion bread to last me for three years but I barely have enough water for myself and to get you nice and shiny," Jisung says.

Daegal seems to accept that explanation since the droid quiets. Though, if the series of short, clipped blips Daegal makes as Jisung starts putting away his tools are anything to go by, the droid is still unsatisfied.

"Stop it," Jisung mumbles as he rolls onto his side, burying his face into his pillow.

The poking continues, soft mechanical whirring growing louder as each jab is delivered with increasing force. Jisung groans before he pushes himself up. He tries to blink himself awake but his eyelids still stick together, refusing to open.

The only source of light in the entire room comes from a cluster of tiny multi-colored lights. Jisung wakes with a sharp gasp; in his sleep-addled state he mistakes the small lights adorning Daegal's side for someone else. Jisung doesn't keep any lights on at night, hasn't in years.

"It's not even sunrise yet," he says, pressing the heel of his palms into his eyes. "Cut me some slack, please."

Daegal continues to spin around in circles, letting out a series of high-pitched, urgent beeps. Jisung flops back down. He squeezes his eyes shut, pushing Daegal's nonsensical beeps about troops and stars of death out of his mind along with the remnants of his own nightmares.

It’s nice to have a companion as he scavenges. This time, Daegal is the one to hop onto the front of Jisung’s speeder. Jisung can’t help but smile as he slides into his seat and picks Daegal up. He tugs on the goggles strap for the small snap before speeding across the golden dunes.

Daegal shifts and squirms in his lap. The droid’s ears periodically smack Jisung’s chest throughout the ride but somehow, the heavy weight and the low thrum of Daegal’s electronics against Jisung’s chest make the ride feel a lot less lonely.

They don’t encounter anyone else at the wreckage. For that, Jisung is glad. He doesn’t want to deal with other scavengers attempting to pluck Daegal when his back is turned or too deep in his own thoughts to notice his surroundings. It’s happened far too many times after Jisung started coming to the wreckage alone to search for useful parts.

Once again, Jisung makes a stop at the old AT-AT to drop off Daegal. He’s about to shut the door when Daegal backs up, speeding towards the small crack between the door and the frame. Jisung drops his keys in shock and Daegal hits the door once again.

“Wait, Daegal—,” Jisung says as Daegal backs up for the third time, tiny engine revving. Jisung pushes the door and it slams against the metal frame just as Daegal zooms out.

I WANT TO COME WITH YOU, Daegal beeps as it weaves circles in and out of Jisung’s legs.

“You can’t come with me,” Jisung says. “There are poachers and smugglers all around the outpost.”

Daegal beeps a couple of times before it races towards Jisung’s speeder. It beeps impatiently as Jisung continues to stand there.

Sighing, Jisung begrudges Daegal’s request and secures the droid. As he pulls up to Niima Outpost, he can’t help the small shiver that travels down his spine despite the sweat pooling in the middle of his palms. He’s on edge the entire time. As they line up at the concession stand, all eyes swivel onto Jisung and Daegal. He can feel the droid ready to sprint off towards the market the entire time, waiting impatiently as Jisung negotiates with the junkyard boss.

As soon as the junkyard boss shoves the packaged rations towards Jisung—still fewer than the amount he was just promised—Daegal speeds off. Jisung shoves the rations into his bag before he sprints off, disregarding the protests about the sand kicked up behind him.

Daegal is fast, weaving in and out of the stands and under tables as Jisung darts between people. He mutters a quick apology with each person he needs to shove aside. At some point, he spots Daegal in the middle of one of the aisles, head moving back and forth as it searches for something nonexistent. Jisung’s lungs burn as he sprints towards the droid.

“You can’t just run off like that,” Jisung reprimands in between deep breaths. The two of them are back at his speeder and Jisung leans onto his quarterstaff for support as Daegal’s ears sway in the wind..

Daegal’s head falls down. It beeps a couple of times, sadly.

“It’s dangerous,” Jisung sighs. “Not everyone is as nice as me.”

CRASHED NOT TOO FAR. MY OWNER. NEED TO FIND. HAVEN’T SEEN SINCE CRASH.

“I can help you find whoever it is that you want to, but you need to promise me to not run off like that again.” Jisung crouches so he’s closer to Daegal’s level. Daegal’s head perks up at his words and it beeps in rapid succession. Smiling tiredly, Jisung pats Daegal’s head a couple of times before he scoops up the droid to return back home.

There’s something, or someone, lying in front of the sad excuse Jisung has for a doorway to the old AT-AT unit Jisung calls home. Jisung pulls his staff out and shakes it so it lengthens with a snap. Cautiously, he approaches the mysterious lump. He holds a hand out so Daegal remains a couple of paces behind him.

It’s a human.

A dehydrated, smelly human covered in the grit of the blackened tar from some starship and coated with a nice layer of desert sand. Jisung uses his quarterstaff to turn the man over, so he can look at his face. His bangs are stuck to his forehead and there’s dried blood smeared across the right side of his face. The man’s pallid face is covered in dry patches, wrinkled skin unbefitting of someone who looks to be Jisung's own age. His clothes are also torn, a dark black mark on his left sleeve from some kind of blaster. Jisung can see where the small grains of sand are stuck in the cuts. Whatever happened to the man, it must have been awful.

Jisung stands back up, moving away and prods the man with his quarterstaff.

Daegal turns on him, ramming into Jisung's leg. The droid even pulls out a small taser. Jisung yelps at the shock.

“Hey!” He shouts. He shoots Daegal a glare, slapping his hand on the back of his calf.

“Okay, well how was I supposed to know that’s the guy you were looking for.” Jisung mutters, “You wouldn’t even give me his name.”

Daegal, of course, is of no help as Jisung carries the man into the center of the room. Daegal spins around in circles, beeping CHENLE. CHENLE CHENLECHENLE. CHENLE IS ALIVE.

"You say he's your friend, but he's a stranger to me!" Jisung defends. He crouches down next to Chenle once more.

Jisung checks for his pulse and listens to his breathing. Chenle’s breaths come out quick and shallow, his heartbeat unnaturally fast. All signs of extreme dehydration. Jisung braces himself before he scoops Chenle up, grimacing at the weight. He frowns as he carries the half-dying stranger, the first-ever guest, into the old starship he calls home.

Jisung’s head hits the back of the floor before he registers the metal pressing his arms down and the foot on his chest. Chenle stares at him, eyebrows furrowed.

“Who are you and why did you reprogram my droid?” Chenle hisses.

“I didn’t reprogram Daegal,” Jisung wheezes. “I found it near Starship Graveyard and it’s been sticking to me since.”

Chenle seems unconvinced. He digs his heel into Jisung’s solar plexus and Jisung’s eyes water. Chenle’s face is inches away as he glowers. Jisung attempts to blink back the tears and take quick, shallow breaths. Without all the blood on his face, Chenle looks young. Maybe around Jisung’s age. There’s a softness to his cheek and the way traces of baby fat still cling to him that tells Jisung all he needs to know.

Daegal beeps.

“Okay, I guess you’re in the clear,” Chenle says, releasing the pressure.

Jisung sucks in a long breath. He shoots Daegal a glare as he pushes Chenle’s shoe aside, rubbing his chest.

THAT WAS FOR POKING CHENLE.

So much for saving a droid and fixing it up. Loyalty is fake. Jisung hopes Daegal can feel his glower as its perfectly patched up ears swing back and forth, head spinning around in circles as it sits at Chenle’s feet.

Chenle crumples. A flurry of urgent beeps and Daegal’s ears swinging violently as JIsung rushes forward.

“Oh, that’s a first,” Chenle says into Jisung’s shoulder, seemingly unbothered.

Jisung drags Chenle towards the cot, careful to avoid Daegal. “Finish your food. You should be resting,” Jisung frowns. “You’re still dehydrated and weak.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Chenle says. He starts to push himself into a seated position but his face turns a deathly shade a white at the halfway mark. “Okay, maybe a bit less than fine.”

“Rest,” Jisung says, shoving a spare tin of water towards Chenle. “I’m going to the market, I’ll be back.”

In the past, lush verdant forests used to cover Jakku's land. Gorgeous blue lakes that would stretch for kilometers, filled with clean, cool water. Go back far enough in some archives and you can still find old accounts of the remote oasis planet.

Present-day Jakku is nothing but sand and rocks. A pile of rubble and dirt, leftover scraps from the final battle that established the New Republic of today. There are only three other settlements besides the one here, Niima Outpost, and an assortment of mining camps sprinkled throughout the planet. To travel from one settlement to another via starship is dangerous. The sandstorms are unpredictable and can easily blow a smaller starship off-course. To travel the desert on foot is asking for death.

It's a miracle that Chenle found his way to the outskirts of Niima Outpost.

It's a coincidence that he ended up on Jisung's front doorstep.

"So Jisung," Chenle starts not even a moment after Jisung returns, "Wanna tell me why a person like you is on Jakku?" His face is inches away from Jisung’s and his pupils are blown wide. His skin looks less ashen than before.

"How do you know my name?" Then, "I thought I told you to stay in bed," Jisung scolds. He shakes the sand off his helmet.

"Daegal told me," Chenle says in a duh voice. "Also you told me to finish the water and food. You never said anything about staying in bed."

Jisung sends Daegal a glare, hoping the droid can feel his betrayal. Daegal tilts its head to the side, letting out a soft beep. Chenle’s laughter fills the air and Jisung can’t help but scowl.

“For you,” Jisung mutters. He tosses an electrolyte packet at Chenle, ignoring the way Chenle’s eyes bore into the back of his head as he scurries away. He continues to keep his head lowered as he settles down at the foot of the cot with an old stabilizer he’s been toying around with for the past week.

He continues to fiddle around with the stabilizer as Chenle rustles around. Jisung doesn’t notice the silence until his fingers start to ache. When he looks up, Chenle is fast asleep. The remainder of the day passes by in peace. Time trickles slowly as the sun peaks in the middle of the sky before making its slow descent towards the horizon. Jisung doesn’t want to admit it, but it’s nice to have someone else around after being by himself for so long.

Chenle, Jisung soon learns, literally does not shut up.

He always has something to say, some comment to give. While Jisung prepares two bread packet portions in the morning, Chenle questions him about his life on Jakku. He asks Jisung about the old AT-AT he's repurposed into his home, how long he's been living here, and how exactly the whole bartering and trading thing works with the junkboss. When Jisung lets it slip that he used to compete in the Wheel Races up north, Chenle immediately latches onto the new topic, grilling Jisung for the details of the races, how much money he won, and how he even trained when all he has is that beat-up speeder sitting outside.

"Okay, but, like, what are you even saving up all that money for?"

"Do you ever shut up?" Jisung finally snaps two hours after the sun has set.

He regrets it immediately. Chenle's mouth falls into a surprised "o" and the shame burns inside Jisung. But really, the borderline interrogation, the incessant talking had seriously grated on Jisung's nerves. He's had ample time to become accustomed to the lonely silence, his own thoughts and the sand filling the crevices that people once did.

Even before, back when Jisung wasn't alone, he was quiet. They didn't always feel the need to speak. Each day was the same as the one before. Silence was comfortable, silence is comfortable. Just the presence of others is enough to reassure Jisung.

"So you do talk back," Chenle grins wryly.

"For a person who almost died of dehydration, you sure do have a lot of words," Jisung retorts.

Chenle's face lights up. It's like they're sharing a joke but Jisung doesn't get it.

"Okay, okay, I get it Mr. Lonesome Scavenger. Less talking," Chenle laughs.

Jisung glowers, turning back to the stabilizer. Chenle confuses him. He’s equal parts infuriating, equal parts charming, and equal parts a mystery. This is what spending years alone in a desert do to you, Jisung berates himself. You meet one person and suddenly you can’t stop thinking about them.

"Say," Chenle starts not even five minutes later, "What are all the tallies here on the wall for?" And Jisung immediately retracts his last thought.

"To keep track of the days," Jisung answers.

"You've been on Jakku for two years?"

"No. I've lived on Jakku my whole life."

Chenle pauses, seems to contemplate his answer for a moment. "No one spends their whole life on Jakku."

Not unless you're hiding or you've been abandoned.

"I'm waiting for someone," Jisung sets down the stabilizer and grabs the spare cloth to wipe the oil grease off his hands. Slowly, carefully, just like he was taught.

"But what about the other set of tallies? The one covered up by the cloth. Some of those are still fresh." Chenle presses.

Jisung cleans the remaining bit of oil underneath his nails then puts the towel away. He doesn't answer.

There are two kinds of beings that live on Jakku.

One: the traveler. To the traveler, Jakku is nothing more than a momentary pit stop, a set of coordinates to plug into their system before they make the jump into hyperspace and leave the desolate planet light years away. It's a launching point to make trips into deep space to other uncharted planets, for those who are looking to escape an astute eye or don't want their existence to be known.

Two: the forgotten and the abandoned. The starships in the desert have been rotting away for decades after their last battle. The pipes at the water station were already old and rusty before they were used to connect one of the few underground wells of water to the barren sands. The people that seek out Jakku are those who want to be forgotten, the beings that are thrown to Jakku are the abandoned. Even the children born on Jakku are forgotten or abandoned. Their parents sell them for an extra gold coin or two, or worse, discard them in the desolate deserts once they've secured passage to a safe place.

Then, there's Jisung.

Jisung can't remember anything but the scintillating sun in a cloudless sky, an endless expanse of beige in front of him. He can't remember anything but the red staining the water pipes and the beaten-down concession stand in the center of Niima Outpost.

Jisung may not know who his parents are, but he's always known who his family is. For as long as he's been able to remember, they've lived on Jakku with him. Jaemin and the infinite warmth in his eyes even when they were only able to split a portion bread and a small canister of water every day because they didn't know how to separate junk from the salvageable parts of the starships. Jaemin, who had wiped the blood from Jisung's leg with a clean towel after his first Wheel Race because Jisung couldn't stop hyperventilating at all the red.

"I'll be back," Jaemin had reassured, the smile on his face more bitter than sweet.

Because we're family, went unspoken.

He had gathered Jisung into his arms. Jisung, too overcome with the hurricane of emotion, couldn't even choke out a goodbye. He wishes he did.

It's been four years since Jaemin left.

"We're going to Starship Graveyard," Jisung declares at the crack of dawn the next day. He's already being quite generous waiting until after sunrise to wake Chenle.

Jisung patiently counts up to one hundred before he yanks the covers off Chenle. Chenle squints at him like he’s grown a second head. He rolls his eyes before throwing his arms over his eyes, murmuring something about five more minutes.

If Chenle's going to be with Jisung, he may as well pull his weight. Jisung's resources aren't infinite, even with the reserves he's been steadily building up over the years and all the extra resources left behind from before. Besides, there's the added benefit of keeping Chenle out of the old AT-AT walker. Jisung took care to close off the other rooms after he fixed Daegal. He even had a very firm talk with the droid that under no circumstances was Daegal to explore the other areas besides the main room. Chenle seems like the kind of person who would do the exact opposite of what Jisung asked, and would be prone to snooping if left to his own devices, if he hadn’t already that first day.

"This is what you do all day? Dig through junk?" Chenle asks when Jisung finally decides it’s their break. His voice cuts through the midday haze like a sharp sword. The ache in Jisung’s back doesn’t feel as bad as before.

Chenle had been surprisingly quiet for the majority of the morning, including the awkward ride to Starship Graveyard where the two of them had to figure out a way to sit on a speeder meant for one. Jisung hadn’t even realized it until now. He rips the portion bread in two and hands Chenle the larger half.

It’s when Jisung meets Chenle’s eyes that he realizes the incredulous tone sounds mean and crass, but there's a twinkle in Chenle's eyes—and he’s being teased.

“Sometimes I polish the junk before I bring it to the concession stand,” Jisung deadpans.

Chenle’s cheeks are stuffed full of the tasteless food as he stares at Jisung, crumbs spilling down his mouth. He swallows the remainder of his food at breakneck speed before he throws his head back to laugh against the blue sky. Jisung’s eyes trail down the slope of Chenle’s neck. They follow his smile and he can’t help but smile as well.

With Chenle, Jisung more than doubles the amount of goods to trade in. Chenle has a good eye; even after the spaceship had been combed through hell and back by scavengers, he still managed to gather a decent haul. The grin on his face at the end of the day is smug and self-assured. They make a good team, the two of them.

Jisung has a good deal of work cut out for him in the evenings because of Chenle’s help. He spends the next few nights seated on the floor as he cleans the pieces, sorting the scraps into those he can trade and those to set aside for later. At first, Chenle’s unwavering gaze unnerved him, but on the third night, Jisung no longer feels like he’s under a microscope.

“I want to go to Niima Outpost with you,” Chenle says that night.

Jisung looks up, setting the small screwdriver aside. It’s the first request Chenle has made since he’s woken up.

“There’s no reason for me not to. I’ve basically recovered.” Chenle points at his face.

It’s true. Chenle’s bruises have faded from a deep, ugly purple to a sickly yellow. The shallower cuts have started to disappear and even the large cut across his forehead—the one that started gushing blood as soon as Jisung removed all the sand from it—has started to scab over.

Jisung hasn’t been back to the concession stand since the disastrous incident with Daegal. It’s mostly because Chenle proceeded to show up on his doorstep, but he also dreads dealing with the junkboss and others unless he absolutely needs help fixing something.

“Fine,” Jisung says before he bends back down to fiddle with the loose screw. He shoves his worries aside the same way he always has.

“It’s hot,” Chenle says when Jisung pulls up to Niima Outpost. “Your stuff keeps digging into my back.”

He shoves the pack of spare parts into Jisung’s chest before he hops off without another word. Jisung sighs, taking out the second bag of parts to trade from the back compartment before he jogs after Chenle and Daegal.

“It’s the desert,” Jisung says once he’s caught up.

“Next time I crash somewhere, I’m going to land thirty minutes by foot maximum from an actual civilization,” Chenle mutters as he joins the end of the line for the concession stand.

Daegal chirps his agreement. The scavenger in front of them whips around, wolfish grin spreading across her face when she spots the droid. Jisung steps in front of Daegal and unfolds his quarterstaff with a quick snap. She narrows her eyes at Jisung, turning back around. No one is stupid enough to try anything the remainder of their wait in line. Still, Jisung knows better than to let his guard down until they’ve returned back to the abandoned AT-AT. In due time, his blood pressure will even out and he won’t have to question every glance sent their way.

When Jisung takes a step towards the concession stand, he desperately prays that Chenle will keep his mouth shut. He pours the contents of both bags out onto the countertop.

“That’s a nice droid you have there,” the junkboss comments as he sweeps Jisung’s haul towards him. The metal clinks against each other as it disappears off the counter.

“The droid isn’t for trade,” Jisung says before Chenle can say anything. Chenle purses his lips into a thin line at the glare Jisung sends his way.

The junkboss’ beady eyes fixate on Daegal as the droid spins its head round and round, ears flying upwards. He reaches behind him, into the darkness, before pouring out portions. The packets hit the countertop and spill onto the ground. Jisung’s hands fly forward of their own accord, catching the precious packets of silver treasure and stuffing them into his bags.

“That, and another box for the droid.”

“I said, he isn’t for trade,” Jisung says, grabbing one last packet before he marches away. His face burns as the others in line stare at him. It’s not just the midday heat.

Chenle sputters as he chases after Jisung. They’re in the marketplace and Daegal is on their heels as Jisung continues to walk with purpose through another aisle. When he reaches the last stall, he stops. Chenle raises an eyebrow as Jisung drags a hand across his burning face.

“Quite a show there,” Chenle says, sly.

“Shut up,” Jisung murmurs. His own heart hasn’t calmed down from the sudden outburst. In all the years he’s been here, he’s always accepted the exchanges for what they were. It’s why he hasn’t starved to death yet.

“Didn’t know you had that in you,” Chenle cackles. Daegal spins around a couple of times in agreement.

Jisung presses his face further into his hands as he wills the heat to dissipate. It’s unlike him to have a surge of confidence like that. He’s going to get shortchanged by the junkyard boss for the next month, minimum.

When Jisung raises his head, Chenle and Daegal are nowhere to be seen. The panic claws at his throat and he whips his head to the left and then to the right. The marketplace is oddly silent as he runs down the aisle, searching for a familiar face and familiar white droid.

Jisung sprints straight down the next aisle. “Chenle?” He calls. “Chenle? Daegal?” Jisung flits to the next aisle as he cranes his neck. Through this stall—strangely empty—he can see people crowded around where the fountain would be.

That’s when he hears it. The roar of a powerful engine and a speaker crackling to life. When Jisung cranes his neck, he sees a dark spacecraft marring the blue and puffs of white. The spaceship’s turbines whip the wind around them, causing his clothes to fly into his face. Jisung shuts his eyes as the sand around him flies.

“We have reports of a missing droid and a Resistance pilot spotted at Niima Outpost. By order of the First Order, you must hand over these two if spotted,” a robotic voice booms from the spaceship.

The winds quiet down but Jisung’s blood runs cold when he spots the clinically cleaned white suit and helmet. He drops down behind the market stall as the Stormtroopers march past the throng of people and straight towards the market. Jisung needs to find Chenle.

Jisung glances left and right as he continues to stay behind the stall. The people in this entire area have cleared out.

“What are you doing here?” Chenle asks.

Jisung shouts, stumbling backwards. He trips right over Daegal, falling flat onto his ass and rolling out into the open. A couple of ration packets spill out. Jisung stuffs them back into his bag before he pushes himself upright. When he looks up, soulless black eyes lock onto his. The helmet slowly turns towards the head next to his.

“Run!” Chenle shouts.

Jisung has no choice. Chenle yanks him forward, grip iron-tight on Jisung, as they run. The stall behind them bursts into pieces as the blaster shot hits it. Jisung turns around to see a Stormtrooper fire another in his direction.

“You didn’t tell me you were wanted by First Order,” Jisung says as they race around a turn.

Chenle stumbles a couple of steps but Jisung yanks him up before he can fall. The Stormtroopers are getting closer.

“It might have slipped my mind,” Chenle yells, somehow tone still casual. The red-hot blaster shot speeds past Chenle’s arm before it hits the wooden stall right in front of them. Chenle doesn’t yelp but Jisung can feel the way he tenses. “We may be on a you-saved-my-life basis but I’m not ready to spill the deep dark secrets of my past yet.”

Jisung takes another peek behind them. This is not what he volunteered for when he took in a broken droid and somehow—by extension—the droid’s owner. The fountain in the middle of the outpost, arguably one of the oldest but best architectural structures on this half of the planet, is hit with one blaster shot. A second, then a third. Its sides crumble and the water spills out onto the sand. Jisung winces at the sight.

“But hey, if you want to hear about it, I can tell you once we get away. There is a way to get off this planet, right?” A hint of desperation leaks its way into Chenle’s voice and there’s a wild look in his eyes.

“The shipyard. We can find something there,” Jisung answers. This time, it’s his turn to pull Chenle forward as they run. Daegal follows, quick on their heels.

Jisung’s lungs burn as they race across the golden grains. The blaster shots hiss as they fly past them, blazing streaks of red that cause dust to fill their lungs. Jisung runs as fast as his feet can carry him. They’re not too far from the first spaceship.

“Oh, shit,” Chenle says.

The metal bursts into flame at the barrage of red. Jisung shuts his eyes, squeezing Chenle’s hand. He uses his free hand to shield his head from the flying debris.

“Is there another ship we can get on?” Chenle asks, voice bordering on hysteria.

The dust hasn’t fully cleared but Jisung swears he can see a hint of white in the mixture of gray and brown.

“Hey, hey, my hand,” Chenle yelps.

“Sorry,” Jisung mutters, loosening his grip a tad. Chenle still doesn’t let go.

There is one ship—an old, half-broken craft that’s been sitting in the junkyard for as long as Jisung can remember. No one has ever come back for that ship.

“There’s one, but I’m not sure—”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Chenle says. “Let’s go.”

Jisung chews on his lip, glancing at Chenle, then back towards Niima Outpost. He sprints forward, pulling Chenle along as Daegal spins on its lower body beside them. They race up the metal bridge, feet pounding in between the gaps of the Stormtroopers’ marches. The two of them race into the cockpit. Chenle surges forward, pulling his hand out of Jisung’s. Jisung moves to the side to slam the button to close the entrance to the starship.

"Oh my god, they're coming, they're coming!" Chenle screeches as he flips on a row of switches.

"I know that!"

Jisung grits his teeth as the side of the ship he's on rattles due to the blaster shots. He hits his head against the low ceiling and stumbles backward.

"What are you doing?" Chenle wheels around, stabbing Jisung's chest with the blunt edge of the screwdriver. "Daegal, can you go check the ion drive?"

"I'm fixing the compressor," Jisung grits.

"Why? In case you haven't noticed, we kinda had to jump into hyperspace like five minutes ago." Chenle's voice rises, panic making it sharp. "They’re going to be here at any moment and who knows how much this old lump of metal can handle?"

Jisung tactfully doesn't mention that it was Chenle who chose this old lump of metal in their haste to escape. Jisung furrows his eyebrows and tries to shut out Chenle's voice. The wrench is slippery in his palms and he keeps misconnecting the wires. It's hard enough with the ship rattling due to the blaster shots. Add the impending doom of getting killed by the First Order and you have one extra nervous Park Jisung.

He can’t die yet, not here and not now. Any permanent or semi-permanent resident of Jakku is practically nonexistent with the way they’ve existed separately from the rest of the Galactic system. And somehow, Jisung has found himself on the top of the First Order’s hit list. He can hardly listen to the gossip surrounding the people on the First Order’s kill list. Jisung has to make it out of here if he wants a chance at reuniting with Jaemin. He tries his best to will his heart beat to lower into a more acceptable range as he simultaneously racks his brain for knowledge that’s become intuition.

"Okay, there!" Jisung shouts, flipping on the row of switches. He slides into the pilot's seat, thrusting the lever up for the jump into hyperspace.

Jisung's knuckles are white and his entire body shakes as the engine comes to life with a colossal roar. He can feel the thrum of energy around him as a force yanks them forward. His body feels like it's being stretched apart; there's an immense pressure pushing him back against the pilot's seat as Jakku's cloudless blue skies give way to the empty void of space.

Jumping into hyperspace is everything Jisung imagined.

The blinding light of the surrounding planetary systems rushes past them as the ship speeds light years ahead. No training simulation can replicate the inky black space and the almost eerie glow of the hyperspace jump.

Glancing beside him, Jisung notices Chenle clutching onto the seat in front of him like it's his only lifeline.

"A little warning next time?" Chenle grits his teeth, pulling himself into the pilot's seat before entering a series of coordinates. Jisung thinks it was deserved, at least a little.

Jisung opens his mouth to retort but finds the oxygen sucked out from his lungs. He inhales—there's a wheezing sound coming from somewhere?—but no air enters. Jisung turns towards Chenle, meeting the other's eyes as he continues to choke on nothingness.

"Breathe," Chenle commands. Jisung sputters at the impact to his back, hunching over the motherboard of the ship. He coughs as Chenle's hand comes down again in a resounding slap.

"Breathe. We're fine now, Jisung. We've escaped the First Order."

Jisung sucks in a breath, long and shaky. The oxygen is a cool relief to his burning lungs. He lets out a small laugh, pressing his forehead to the dirty metal below him. "We escaped," he agrees.

Two hours later and one star system away, Jisung finally stops staring at the jumping fuel gauge. Now that they’re safely away from imminent death, his hands have stopped shaking and he’s face to face with the vast expanse of space. Somehow, it still isn’t like anything he could imagine.

“We need to refuel soon,” Jisung remarks.

“Ah, shit,” Chenle squints at the bars at the flickering bars of the fuel gauge, as though it’ll suddenly show a level that isn’t borderline empty.

“After that, I need to go back to Jakku.”

“Go back?” Chenle asks, disbelief coloring his voice. Daegal beeps in agreement. “You want to go back to that piece of junk?”

Jisung winces. He reminds himself that he’s only just met Chenle and Daegal, they know nothing about him and why he needs to be back. Here, he’s a fish out of water, a scavenger without the constantly shifting sands to sift through for lost items.

“I’m waiting for someone,” Jisung says.

Chenle scoffs, “And just how long have you been waiting?” He stares straight at Jisung, dark eyes blazing with a challenge.

Jisung doesn’t answer. Instead, he dips his head and stares straight ahead. “Either way, we need to refuel. We won’t make it out of this system.”

Chenle squares his jaw. “Fine,” he finally says after a long stretch of silence. His fingers fly over the keys as they put in a new route. “We can go here. I’m not helping you find a new ship, though.”

“I didn’t expect you to,” Jisung says, forcing his lips into a small smile.

Jisung’s earliest memories are of the endless stretches of sand and the way the dunes would fall into two smiles filled with affection. He remembers halcyon days of idleness where even the constant hunger gnawing on the back of his mind was easily ignored. In those days, Jisung could fall and bloody his knees and he would always have two pairs of hands to help. One to catch him and one to help him.

He’d race across the desert, sand flying up around him as the sun kissed his skin. Bright and happy, even with all the dust and grime caked on.

Two pairs became one but Jisung still had part of his family. One pair of hands to help him up whenever he fell, one mouth to chastise him for dangerous students but also one pair of arms to pull him into a hug at night.

Jisung remembers those days fondly. Memories are all he has so he keeps them close to his heart, as the days bleed into the next.

They land and refuel without a hitch. Chenle glares at him throughout the entire process. Daegal hovers in the middle between them.

Now that Chenle is equipped to leave, Jisung’s chest burns with urgency as he goes around the dock, talking to the captains and their crew members. He needs to get back to Jakku. It’s the only place he’s known and the only place he has a chance of being found. Ignoring the strange twist in his chest, Jisung begins to talk to some of the fuel suppliers about passage. He ignores the way Chenle stares daggers into the back of his head as he negotiates with the captain of the cargo ship.

That’s fine. Jisung has been on his own for long enough to know how to figure things out for himself. He’s grown; he doesn’t need someone to help him up when he falls. He can get up on his own now.

“So you guys leave today?” Jisung confirms.

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” the captain sighs tiredly, before he heads into his starship.

It’s a bit sooner than he’d like, since Jisung still wants to make sure Chenle gets off the planet safely, but he knows how rare it is for people to pass by Jakku. Jisung steals another glance behind him. Across the dock, Chenle’s back is turned towards him but Daegal’s dual cameras are trained on him. Jisung gives Daegal a tiny wave. He’s going to miss the droid. The past week has felt less lonely.

Jisung steps into the entrance of the starship to a ring of blasters pointed straight at his face.

“There’s a bounty from the First Order on two travelers and a droid,” the man to Jisung’s left hisses, shoving the blaster’s barrel into his shoulder. “The droid’s a special type, dual cameras. Apparently the criminals stole a ship from Jakku.”

“The ship was in the junkyard,” Jisung mumbles under his breath. It doesn’t even have a name. He takes a deep breathe in a weak attempt to quell his heartbeat. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Chenle say something to Daegal.

Jisung sucks in a breath, shutting his eyes. On the exhale he sweeps out his leg to kick the blaster out of the man on his left before he whips out his quarterstaff, extending it to its full length and knocking the remaining blasters out of the hands of the starship’s crew. Jisung shoves the quarterstaff into the captain’s gut before he sprints off.

“Chenle!” He shouts as he races across the dock, lungs burning.

Chenle turns towards him, brows knitted in confusion. Daegal beeps excitedly.

“We need to leave. Now,” Jisung says.

“What? Why—”

A dark starship pulls into the landing dock, several stations away from them. Jisung’s heart drops into his stomach. He tries to suppress the dread at the overwhelming terror emanating from that starship. He’s not going to find safe passage to Jakku on another’s ship. If he wants to get back, he’ll have to do it on his own. But first, he needs to make sure Chenle and Daegal are okay.

“Fuck, we have to get out of here. We can lose them in town.” Chenle reaches for Jisung, grip iron-tight on Jisung’s wrist, before they sprint away the second time that day.

"So why exactly is the entire First Order after you?" Jisung hisses as he and Chenle press themselves into the damp brick wall. Stormtroopers race past them and Jisung's heart beats hard enough that it feels like it’s about to leap out of his ribcage. Chenle doesn't seem to be as scared as he is, from the way he periodically peeks out into the main street.

This is so not what Jisung signed up for when he left Jakku.

Chenle throws his arm out, hand on Jisung's sternum, pushing him even further into the wall. Coincidentally, the cloak he's wearing conceals the small lights emanating from Daegal's head.

"They think I have a map to the last Jedi," Chenle says. Footsteps race past them. The retort is on the tip of Jisung's tongue but he swallows it in favor of not getting painted full of holes with the red laser beams.

Jedi.

The word sticks to Jisung's brain as he runs after Chenle. He mulls over the word as they duck into another alleyway, Chenle glancing around before pulling out his watch to tap away at it. It's not a word that's heard often these days, even less so with the type of reverence and hope Chenle seems to say it with. Jedi are for children's stories and dreamers.

"So do you?" Jisung asks. Chenle shoots him a look. "Have a map. To the Jedi," Jisung clarifies.

"No," Chenle says as though it should be obvious.

"Oh," Jisung deflates. He wants to tell Chenle if that's the case, they can stop running. Then he remembers that the First Order is unlikely to stop chasing after them until they do get the map. Or at the very least, the person who does hold the map.

"Is there a map?"

"That map was just a lie the Resistance made up to throw the First Order off our backs," Chenle huffs. “There is no map, there never was.”

"Then why are we running?" Jisung questions. Daegal chirps in agreement.

Chenle shifts from foot to foot. He glances at Daegal, who has its mini-taser out and ready. “Well, you see, the thing is…,” Chenle rubs the back of his neck as Jisung and Daegal continue to stare at him. “I was supposed to deliver the plans of the super top secret planet destroyer the First Order is building to another Resistance member, but I may have lost it.”

Jisung blinks.

“Do you know where you lost it?” Jisung’s voice comes out hysterical. At this point, the Stormtroopers could march back into the alley with their blasters and it wouldn’t be the worst turn of events in Jisung’s day.

“Erm.”

Jisung stares at Chenle. Daegal beeps.

“At a bar?” Chenle offers. “Look, I was really drunk and got back to my ship super late. By the time I was on the next planet, the plans were already gone.”

Jisung’s head throbs with the new information. He’s going to lose it. He’s going to die in some random corner of the galaxy and he’s never going to make it back to Jakku and reunite with—

“Hey, hey.” Chenle’s hands are on his shoulder, warm. His hands press Jisung into the ground as Daegal spins around them. “We’re going to be okay. We’re going to find the plans, get them back, and get it to the Resistance. Then, I’ll help you get back to Jakku.”

Jisung sucks in a long, wheezing breath. Like hell we are, he wants to say, but when he looks up into Chenle’s eyes, the words die on the tip of his tongue. Chenle smiles weakly but his eyes blaze with a conviction that Jisung has never seen before.

“Okay,” Jisung says. “Okay.” He believes him.

It happens that the first place Chenle needs to go to start his search is conveniently located two planets away. They circle back to the docking station early the next morning before stealing back their starship. Chenle keys in the coordinates and they land in the middle of the ravine on the outskirts of town. Chenle finds a rickety old speeder stored inside of the starship. He looks too accustomed to lugging out the rickety speeder and he lowers the visor as Jisung climbs into the backseat. Jisung wraps his arms around Chenle’s waist as they speed across the dried dirt towards a place where more life exists.

Jisung doesn’t question Chenle about why they’re on some planet in the Outer Rims and still taking a million precautions. He holds on tight and before he knows it, they’re in the middle of a bustling town center despite the darkness that has settled in the sky.

“I like to come here sometimes,” Chenle tells him before they duck behind an old red curtain, so old it’s practically brown.

Jisung follows Chenle closely, steps on the top of Chenle’s heels as he spins around in a daze. There are so many people in the bar. He’s starting to sweat even with the lightweight linen and every step they take forward, the tips of his toes narrowly miss Chenle’s heels.

“It’s…,” Jisung flinches at the sound of shattering glass as one person shoves another across the table, hissing as a deck of holocards fly up into the air. In the other corner, bodies are crowded so tightly against one another Jisung doesn’t think there would be enough space to breathe. He can feel the heat flood his cheeks. “Something different, I guess.”

“First round’s on me,” Chenle declares as he slides into a seat.

The bartender rolls his eyes as he slides two drinks down the bar. The ice cubes clink against the glass, spinning and spinning before they finally settle in front of Jisung. Jisung raises the glass, sniffing before he takes a tentative sip.

He’s two seconds away from spitting it out.

“Have you never had alcohol before?” Chenle scoffs as he downs the glass in one go. He motions to the bartender for another.

“No,” Jisung answers. There was little to be spared on Jakku and even less at a place meant for passers-by like Niima Outpost. There were days where Jisung had to go without water, stretching last week’s ration into the next and desperately praying that the measly amount of liquid didn’t evaporate overnight. He’s all too familiar with the taste of ration bread and artificial meals only meant to keep the human body functioning.

Chenle opens his mouth then quickly shuts it as realization dawns upon his face. “Just don’t get drunk and throw up. I don’t want to deal with any of that.”

Jisung bites back his retort.

“It’s rare for you to bring someone here,” the bartender comments as Chenle sips his second drink. Jisung leans over to take a tentative sniff. It smells sweeter but there’s still the underlying sharp tang that makes him wrinkle his nose in disgust. When he pulls back, he catches the bartender staring at him with wide, cat-like eyes.

“Well,” Chenle responds. He doesn’t follow up on it.

The bartender laughs underneath the dim yellow light. “You still have two hundred credits on your old tab. Are you going to pay for the new guy’s too?”

“I’ll pay off everything right now and his drink if you can answer a few questions.”

You were going to make me pay when this was your— Jisung looks down as Chenle’s watch rings with a familiar chime meant only for transferring credits.

The bartender winks as his fingers fly across a nearby monitor. A softer, quiet chime hides underneath the cacophony of the bar.

“Ask away,” The bartender cackles.

Chenle wrinkles his nose. “Do you remember who I was playing mahjong with last time I was here? I’m pretty sure one of them took something from me when I wasn’t looking.”

The bartender purses his lips, tilting his head to the side as he makes a show of thinking. Besides him, Chenle’s gaze narrows. “Seriously, man? Like, c’mon,” Chenle sighs. “Remember that time the bar was low on supplies? Or the other time I got that shipment past the First Order? Oh, what about the other—”

The bartender laughs loudly but his eyes are sharp as he tilts his head back. “‘Kay, only because I’ve known you for so long. But you were pretty drunk—” he snickers into his elbow, “—the guy to your right was pretty weird.”

“The guy to my right…” Chenle repeats as the bartender leaves to serve someone else. Chenle stares into his drink as he swirls the liquid around. Jisung doesn’t speak a word as he stares into his own drink.

“Oh my god,” Chenle says as soon as they’ve exited the bar. “We are so fucked.”

He doesn’t say a word as he hops onto the speeder, Jisung sliding in right behind him. Jisung can feel the nerves thrumming through Chenle’s body as he presses himself against Chenle’s back. They fly over the sands in tense silence. When Jisung closes his eyes he’s back on Jakku, the wind whipping against his cheeks on sleepless nights and the stars shining dimly in the distant sky. His grip tightens.

“I can’t believe this,” Chenle says as he storms into the cockpit.

CHENLE IS UPSET, Daegal beeps.

Jisung hangs a couple of steps behind as Chenle is on his twentieth lap around the cockpit. He tugs at his hair, nails digging into his scalp as he continues to murmur to himself.

UPSET. PLANS LOST.

“Chenle,” Jisung interrupts. “What’s wrong? Who was sitting next to you?”

“A really, really annoying thief,” Chenle says. “The most irritating treasure hoarder in the whole galaxy. Once he’s set his eyes on something, you’re guaranteed to never get it back.”

Despite the small size of the starship—the Golden Warrior Chenle has named it because of the gold plating on the underside of the starship—Jisung doesn’t see Chenle for another day. After they got back, Chenle had punched in a flight route by angrily smashing the keys before stalking off. For some reason, it didn’t feel right to follow him.

Jisung feels restless. With Chenle gone, the starship is too small and too large all at once. He spends the first hour walking around the entire craft before his hands start twitching too much. It isn’t until he’s seated with the speeder, taking apart the engine to fix that obnoxious rattling sound, that Jisung finally feels at peace.

He works until his fingers ache. He only notices the hunger when he stands up, world spinning before he shuts his eyes long and hard to will the dizziness away.

“Oh, you’re here,” Chenle says. He’s leaning against the entrance to the room, face twisted in displeasure. “We’re picking someone up.”

“Who?” Jisung asks.

“Renjun,” Chenle says, as though Jisung would know who that is. He seems mildly apprehensive at the thought. “Renjun isn’t part of the Resistance, but he smuggles a lot of things. He helps us out a lot.”

“Cool,” Jisung says. He doesn’t know what else to say.

“He’s making us pick him up tomorrow morning,” Chenle says. “Have you eaten yet? I was going to make tomato egg noodles.”

Jisung inhales Chenle’s bowl of noodles like a starving man. It’s quite possibly one of the best things he’s ever tasted. Chenle watches him with utter fascination.

“I’ve basically been eating ration portions my whole life,” Jisung says once he’s finished draining the bowl. Chenle is only halfway done with his.

“If you thought that was good, just wait until I make you something with fresh ingredients. I’ll make you one of my favorite dishes from back home,” Chenle tells him, smiling.

Jisung is so moved that he forgets to ask Chenle where home is. Before he knows it, they’ve both finished eating and he’s left with Daegal in the kitchen once again. It feels weird bringing it up again, but as much as Chenle likes to run his mouth, Jisung realizes that he hasn’t been told anything besides the bare essentials. The starship is starting to feel as cold and lonely as the nights on Jakku.

Jisung stands underneath a brick archway gazing at the fountain in the middle of the plaza. It’s built from gray stone but when the sun passes over it, the fountain shines white. The head of the fountain spits out an endless stream of water as Jisung waits. The water droplets shine like glittering white crystals as they rise up then fall back down into the pool.

The sound of laughter tinkles as the water falls down. Spurred into action by the footsteps in the corridor, Jisung sprints towards the fountain, feet light as he gets closer and closer to the spraying water.

He leaps into the fountain, the cool water soaking his pants. Just as he spins around, two silhouettes come into view.

The first person steps out of the shadows and his entire body shakes with laughter after he speaks. Jisung can’t hear the second person even when he leans towards them. He pouts, huffing and making a show of crossing his arms and kicking up the water around his feet.

Two different laughs fill the air. That’s not fair, Jisung thinks as he pouts.

“You guys are being mean,” he whines.

“Aw, we’ll play with you too,” Jaemin says as he approaches the fountain. His arms are wide and inviting. He stops just before the fountain.

“Yeah, what if I don’t want to play with you guys now?” Jisung counters. “I can have fun just by myself.”

Jaemin looks at him knowingly. “Don’t come knocking on our door later tonight then.”

Jisung shifts his weight from one foot to the other. When he looks up, there’s a knowing grin on Jaemin’s face. Jisung has lost.

“Play with me later?”

Jaemin laughs as he ruffles Jisung’s hair. He seems to take extra care to ruin his bangs, making the stray strands poke Jisung’s eyes just the way he knows Jisung dislikes. “We’ll be back soon,” Jaemin promises.

Jisung watches Jaemin leave. He stays in the fountain as Jaemin disappears into the shadows. It turns silent.

Terror grips Jisung’s heart. He can’t move. When he looks down, his feet are no longer submerged in water but stuck in sand. They’re gone. Jaemin is gone and Jisung is alone. He closes his eyes, clutching his head as the sand around him continues to rise.

Jisung wheezes as he blinks away to the darkness of the starship.

They pick the smuggler off one of the mining sites in the Kuliquo belt. Jisung spends their entire descent gripping onto the arm rests of his seat, ignoring the way his stomach tumbles around as Chenle cackles with laughter. He barely registers the door to the cockpit sliding open and the presence of another person joining them. Jisung is too busy squeezing his eyes shut as Chenle weaves in and out of the hunks of rock. He doesn’t open his eyes until it’s been a good fifteen minutes since they’ve made the jump into hyperspace.

"You let him fix the blasters? On this old thing?" the smuggler, Renjun asks, incredulous. He eyes the triggers to the gunner's seat warily.

Jisung slowly pushes himself out of his seat to join the other two. Now that he’s standing, he can see that Renjun is shorter than he anticipated. Renjun eyes Jisung warily, weight shifting to his leg with a gun holster strapped to it. He takes half a step towards Chenle as he stares at Jisung with dark eyes.

Jisung knows Renjun’s type and knows they’re to be avoided.

"Hey! I'll have you know that Jisung is an excellent mechanic," Chenle defends, blissfully unaware.

Despite the way his senses prickle, Jisung can’t help but grin at Chenle’s compliment.

"Well, it's not like it takes much to be a better mechanic than you," Renjun snips. He glances around the ship, eyes glossing over Jisung. "Is he a better pilot than you too?"

"Excuse me, I'm an amazing mechanic and pilot. Top in the Resistance." Chenle puffs out his chest. Jisung resists the urge to roll his eyes. He’s yet to actually see Chenle fix something but Jisung has a sneaking suspicion he’s better in that department.

It's like I'm not even here, he mouths at Daegal.

"There's a difference between being good and being reckless," Renjun says wryly, "You almost got us killed getting out of the Kuliquo belt."

"But I got us out in the end," Chenle argues, face twisting in displeasure.

It's a bit endearing. Jisung lets out a small huff. Propensity for flirting with death aside, Chenle did get them out. Still, Jisung could have done without the barrels and rolls that sloshed his stomach around and almost caused him to vomit all over Renjun’s shoes.

While the Golden Warrior was clearly meant to be a lightweight freighter for last-minute cargo transportation, the starship still felt spacious enough when it was just the two of them. Now, the narrow hallways feel even smaller. Every time Jisung rounds the corridor he feels like he’s going to bump into someone else. He takes back to hiding in the storage room, fixing up the speeder. Daegal is usually with him. He only sees Renjun at night, when they’re both headed to bed. Chenle will usually come down to get Jisung for meals, where they chitchat about aimless topics. The third time it happens, Jisung realizes he still doesn’t know anything about Chenle, or about the Resistance and this fight. For some reason, the former bothers him more than the latter.

Chenle still hasn’t told Jisung why they need Renjun’s help to get these plans back and anytime Jisung steps into the same room, they both clammer up about whatever they’re talking about. Machines and the different pieces of metal that form them have always been Jisung’s most reliable companions, anyway.

“You’re a good droid,” Jisung tells Daegal, patting the droid’s head as Daegal hands him a torque wrench. Its weight resides comfortably in the middle of his palm.

Jisung bends over, continuing to fix the engine on the speeder. It’s fine. If Chenle needs him, he’ll find him. They’re all on the same starship, after all.

"You're so fucked," Renjun says.

Jisung is on his way to the lowest levels of the starship, passing by the kitchen, just to check for any spare parts that may be lying there as well as check how the blasters are doing. He doesn’t mean to linger but he can’t help himself. It’s been a solid two days since Renjun boarded their ship but Jisung has scarcely seen the man. He sucks in a breath, sticking himself to the rusting metal wall.

“I know that!” Chenle retorts. He sounds angry and Renjun sounds too bitter. Jisung tries to sneak a look at Chenle out of the corner of his eye. He can feel Daegal bumping up against his left knee under the table.

“I already know how shitty and dire this situation is. You don’t need to rub it in,” Chenle says. “Kun is going to flay me as soon as I step foot on base.” He laughs, but it sounds tense. It’s not the laugh that Jisung has become accustomed to—the one that paints a brilliant picture across Chenle’s entire face and makes Jisung’s lips tug upward of their own accord so he can match a fraction of Chenle’s delight.

“Then you shouldn’t have asked me for my help if you didn’t want my opinion,” Renjun counters, voice sharp.

The following silence stretches for what seems like an eternity. “You won’t tell him, will you?”

“I plan on being on the other side of the system before you even get back,” Renjun spits, “I don’t want to get dragged into any more of these messes. You guys always seem to forget that I’m not actually part of the Resistance.”

It takes all of Jisung’s self-control to keep his head down. Daegal bumps into his leg again. There’s a shaky inhale followed by the sound of evenly-spaced footsteps across the floors of the Golden Warrior. When Jisung looks up, he meets Renjun’s sharp gaze. Renjun narrows his eyes before he spins on his heels, leaving Jisung alone in the hallway.

“Renjun’s just pissed because the last time he saw Donghyuck, they had a huge spat,” Chenle tells him, glumly, the following afternoon. He’s been polishing his blaster for the better part of the day.

“Donghyuck?” Jisung repeats.

“Yeah, he’s the heir to the Hapes throne,” Chenle says.

Jisung takes the blaster and polishing cloth from Chenle’s hands to scrub the one spot he’s been attempting to shine for the past ten minutes. Chenle mentions these people—these places—so casually, as though it’s common knowledge. Since they left Jakku, since Renjun boarded their ship, Jisung has felt like a stick in the mud. Chenle and Renjun are both embroiled in a cause so far removed from him, it’s difficult to understand the weight of everything. Still, Jisung tries. Just for Chenle, just for now. After this is over, he’ll return to the lawless and untouched desert. It’s impossible to tame the shifting sands.

“Why do we need Renjun’s help?” Jisung finally asks after the silence has stretched on for far too long.

“He smuggles a lot of things and knows a lot of people. The security around this planet is tight and you can only get in if you’re here for trade. Theoretically, Bakura is neutral but most of their entryways are controlled by the First Order.”

Jisung takes Chenle’s words and ponders them as he rotates the blaster in his hands to check for any missed spots. Chenle’s hands hover over his as he passes the blaster back.

“Why did you join the Resistance?” Jisung asks.

Conflict has only existed in the stories on the datapads, years and planets so far removed from Jisung. It existed on the tendrils of news they would receive at Niima Outpost. At the end of the day, they were all trying to survive the harsh sun and the unyielding sands of time. That kind of conflict, those kinds of wars, weren’t meant for the inhabitants of Jakku.

Chenle’s lips curl up into a small smile. “You can’t be the only one asking questions! You’ve skipped my turn.”

Jisung scoffs. Chenle’s smile stretches into a grin as he watches Jisung flounder for some kind of retort. “Well, I polished your blaster. So that’s an extra question for me right there.”

“Fine,” Chenle acquiesces with an ease Jisung wasn’t expecting. “I joined the Resistance after my parents died. They were merchants and were sympathetic to the Resistance when the war started. The Resistance is all I have left.”

The words seep into Jisung’s skin. This, this is something he understands.

“My turn now,” Chenle chirps and Jisung wants to grumble that it’s not a game. “Who are you waiting for on Jakku?”

Jisung can’t handle the close scrutiny of Chenle’s gaze, like he’s trying to peer inside Jisung and discover what makes him tick. There’s little to be found. Jisung doesn’t have anything to hide.

He draws his knees into his chest. “My family,” he says. The only family he’s ever had.

“And you really think they’ll come back?” Chenle asks.

That’s one more question than they agreed on, but Jisung doesn’t have the heart to refuse Chenle. Mutely, he nods. Chenle doesn’t press him any further. Together, they stare out of the window into the dark expanse with its infinite glowing possibilities. All those stars are just out of reach.

Renjun doesn’t trust Jisung.

It’s okay, because Jisung doesn’t trust Renjun either. He doesn’t like the way Renjun’s eyes are constantly stuck on his back, or his judgemental glare whenever they’re doing something. He’ll turn his nose up at Chenle’s food before begrudgingly taking his place, nag them both about missing a spot while cleaning or not taking detailed notes during inventory check. No matter what they do, Renjun never seems pleased. Jisung happily pulls Renjun’s breakfast towards himself the morning they’re supposed to arrive at the Bakura System. Chenle’s cooking is a thousand times better than the ration bread Jisung has been eating for as long as he can remember.

“You guys only have three hours once we pass the asteroid belt to come in and out,” Renjun reminds them.

“Yeah, yeah,” Chenle says. “Three hours should be plenty. We’ve been over this a million times.”

Renjun scowls. “Jisung will navigate us through the asteroid belt.”

Jisung’s head shoots up from the co-pilot seat. “Me?” He asks.

“Him?” Chenle repeats.

“Yeah, Jisung.” Renjun stands up, motioning for Jisung to take the pilot seat. Jisung’s feet move on their own.

“You’ve been here a million times. Don’t you already have the safe route programmed?” Chenle argues. “What’s your deal?”

“I wanna see what he’s made of,” Renjun counters. His hand feels like a heavy weight on Jisung’s shoulder as he presses him deeper into the pilot’s seat. “Better you know now if he can help. If he can’t manage to get us through the belt, he’s staying on the ship.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Chenle says.

Renjun shrugs. He downs the last of his coffee before leaving the two of them in the kitchen. Jisung’s hands shake as he attempts to finish the rest of his breakfast. Even Chenle’s gentle pat does nothing to calm his nerves.

When Jisung steps out of the tiny starship, without a single scratch on them or the starship, he’s overwhelmed by the sheer amount of green. He stands at the entrance, lost in the overpowering smell of the trees and the way their scent cuts through everything else. Multitudes of verdant leaves in the landscape in front of them flood his vision.

“What’s wrong with you?” Chenle asks as he pushes Jisung forward.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Jisung tells him with awe. “I didn’t know there were places with so much life.”

He takes a moment to breathe in the fresh air, the sharp smells, and allows the life around him to fill his lungs and flow through his body. As he exhales, part of the unspoken tension he’s been carrying with him for years dispels. He feels lighter, somehow.

“We should try and get a mission on Kenari, you’d love it there.” Chenle tells him. He moves forward, parting the branches of foliage in front of them. Jisung follows.

“The security here is nonexistent,” Chenle comments as the metal door shuts behind them. With Renjun’s vague map, it hadn’t taken them too long to find the thief's lair. It had taken Daegal less than a minute to hack into the system and there weren’t any traps after they stepped into the entryway. Jisung releases the breath he had been holding.

Daegal rolls forward, green laser scanning the room in front of them. The place is well occupied. Boxes sit upon boxes from the floor to ceiling. They’re all unlabeled, with a thick black iron bolt keeping them shut. A few of the cabinets remain open and papers are strewn across the small table in the center of the room.

Chenle begins to rummage through the drawers. Jisung remains a few steps behind him.

“There are really people out here without computers?” Chenle huffs, slamming the drawer shut. “Not even a goddamn datapad?”

There was one week on Jakku where Jisung had a datapad. It was some old, outdated model they had scavenged from the junkyards two days away from the Niima outpost. Jeno was the one who found it and Jisung had spent an entire day hovering over the scrap of metal, trying to get the screen to flicker to life. It was one of the best weeks of Jisung’s life.

“Erm, what exactly are we looking for anyways?” Jisung asks. The scraps of paper in front of him are filled with scribbles he can’t decipher and no pictures whatsoever. Jisung is certain that starship plans usually have a couple of pictures, at least.

Chenle spins around, wooden drawing slamming shut behind him. “The schematics for the Death Star? Daegal, can you do another scan of the house?”

“But what do they look like? I don’t think there’s enough paper in this whole house for the plans.”

Chenle blinks at him, slowly, irises stretching into a thin line. “It’s on a datachip, Jisung. I know you’ve seen those on Jakku before.”

Jisung flushes. “You just assumed I knew what we were looking for this entire time,” Jisung says.

Daegal beeps a couple of times, in quick succession. Jisung’s ears turn even warmer. The cylindrical hunk of metal on the table in front of him is looking more interesting by the second. There’s the sound of something humming in the distance. When Jisung glances towards the entrance, the sound disappears.

“Well, the datachip is black and rectangular. Just the way a datachip is made,” Chenle says, “I hope that helps.”

Jisung mumbles an agreement. He reaches for the cylindrical piece of metal, fingers sliding into the grooves running parallel to the base. It fits well in his hand—the metal is cool to the touch and the grip is secure. Jisung tosses the cylinder up a couple of times, catching it as Chenle continues to search.

The third time the cylinder arcs back down, Daegal rushes towards him, bumping the back of his knees. The cylinder slips through Jisung’s fingers and hits the edge of the desk before it rolls to a stop on the table. Jisung gasps as several items bounce off the table. He catches a paperweight in his left hand—a marble with his right. Another small knick-knack bounces once, twice, before it falls off the table. Jisung places the paperweight on the ground before snatching it up—a crystal.

Jisung blinks a few times at the small crystal. It’s clear and cool to the touch. The light catches on its rough edges, scattering the harsh white light above him. It makes the crystal look like it’s glowing. The humming sound is back and louder than before as Jisung continues to stare. He strains his ears and below that hum, there’s a soft melody. He’s heard it somewhere before.

The crystal grows warm and when Jisung looks back down, it’s adopted a golden yellow hue.

“Do you want to help, or are you just going to continue knocking things around?” Chenle shouts.

Daegal’s head spins around. It chirps rapidly.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Jisung mutters. He quickly puts everything back on the table. His hand lingers on the crystal.

“Jisung?”

“I’m going to check the desk,” Jisung answers. He slips the crystal into his pocket before he turns around to help Chenle.

Renjun is spinning his blaster around his finger when the two of them arrive back at the ship. As they approach, Jisung can see the boredom written across his face, but the way Renjun’s shoulders relax once he spots them gives him away.

“You guys made it out awfully quick and easy,” he notes.

“What can I say, we’re pros,” Chenle says smugly as he pulls himself into the antechamber. Renjun rolls his eyes before he follows.

As soon as Jisung enters the cockpit, he sags down into the backseat. The crystal in his pocket thrums as he gazes at the green on the horizon. Renjun raises an eyebrow at him but takes the pilot seat, right next to Chenle. Jisung barely registers the clicks of the switches and the slow rumble of the engine.

“You good?” Renjun asks, eyes narrowed.

Jisung’s hand tightens around his pocket. “I’m fine,” he says as the kyber crystal beats in time with his pulse.

The thunderous roar from the engine and the vibrations from the way it sputters to life aren’t enough to quell the eerie attraction Jisung has to an indiscriminate crystal. He shuts his eyes as they leap into hyperspace, trails of white light flooding his vision as the quiet fills Jisung’s empty eardrums.

The crystal thrums in his pocket.

The silence follows them three hours from Bakura. None of them have moved from the cockpit despite the tangible relief Chenle had exhaled as soon as they had boarded the starship.

Jisung doesn't want to be the first to break the silence. He also doesn’t want to be the first to leave despite the way his legs have been cramping up, because—now what? Chenle has the plans and they’re going to go back to the Resistance. Then, no matter what Chenle says and how he’ll try and cajole him into joining the Resistance, Jisung is going to return to Jakku. Even if he’ll need to steal their tiniest starship to get back.

The crystal burns against his thigh.

“Are the two of you capable of sitting still for a single second?” Renjun snaps, shattering the delicate atmosphere.

“Sorry,” Jisung apologizes. He pushes his knee down, smiling sheepishly at Renjun’s unimpressed look.

“I just—” Chenle starts, “how long until we get back to the base?”

Renjun pinches the bridge of his nose. This time, he’s actually scowling. “Whatever time it takes us to get there. You can see what the flight map says, can’t you?”

Chenle rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he slouches in his seat. He turns his face away from Renjun, towards Jisung, and scrunches his nose in exaggerated disgust. A silent laugh spills from Jisung’s mouth.

Renjun only gives them fifteen minutes’ notice before they make the last jump in hyperspace to the Resistance’s base. Jisung braces himself against the high speed throttle as white bleeds into his vision. When he next opens his eyes, he can see deep blue waters and the thick green forests beyond the sandy shore.

“Welcome to the Resistance,” Chenle says as they fly past the waves.

Jisung is quick to unbuckle his seatbelt and rush towards the window, pressing his face to the glass. It’s amazing to see that much water in a single place. As the waves crash upon the shore, they leave a trail of bubbly white. The contrast between the ultramarine and bright emerald is a sight to behold. It’s beautiful. He doesn’t realize they’ve landed until the starship lurches to a stop and Daegal presses against the back of his calves.

“We’re here,” Renjun announces.

Chenle’s face erupts into delight and he leaps out of his seat with a bounce that’s been missing these past few days. He races out towards the group of people before the ramp has fully lowered. Jisung catches Renjun’s grimace as they follow Chenle.

“I’m not nervous,” Jisung tells Daegal. He scratches the bit underneath the droid’s ear and Daegal’s ear swings up to catch the back of his hand.

“Sure you aren’t,” Renjun says before he steps out of the starship and into the sunlight.

Jisung’s feet remain glued to the starship’s floor for another heartbeat. One step forward, and he’ll be one step closer to returning home. He repeats the mantra in his head as he places one foot in front of the other, wiping his sweat on the hem of his shirt.

“Jisung!” Chenle beams from the center of a throng of people. “You took so long, I thought something broke.”

Jisung ducks his head to avoid the eyes turned towards him, face heating up as he makes his way to Chenle. The people surrounding Chenle recede like the waves on the shore. Jisung doesn’t breathe until he makes it to Chenle’s side, meeting the other man’s eyes as he swings an arm around the back of Jisung’s neck. The body heat only makes him feel even more flushed.

“This is Jisung. He saved me after I crash-landed on Jakku and helped me get the plans back,” Chenle tells members of the Resistance that have gathered around them. The grin on his face is brighter than the sun. He looks like he’s at home.

Jisung wants to refute Chenle’s words, wants to clarify what he actually wants. He’s rehearsing the words he’s mouthed time and time again as he braces himself for the inevitable disappointment. When Jisung lifts his head to the crowd, a pair of familiar eyes stare back at him.

Jaemin’s smile is the same as Jisung remembers. Eyes warm, that dimple right next to his mouth as his lips stretch to reveal the same set of pearly white teeth.

“Welcome to the Resistance, Jisung,” Jaemin says.