Work Text:
Jonghyeon looked down from the window of his shophouse, nestled deep in the capitol town protected by Wall Sina. His father was setting up shop downstairs, his mother was folding a stack of laundry in the bedroom, and his older brother was out frolicking somewhere.
Life was normal.
The streets were quiet, bathed in the warm glow of dawn. He was satisfied with his life - as satisfied as a teenager could be, unable to see a thing beyond the walls. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering if there was more to life than this.
A man turned the corner, yelling out something that Jonghyeon couldn’t quite make out. He raised an arm, waving a stack of paper. The newspaper was here earlier than usual, and all the merchants were more eager to receive it, running from their storefronts to snatch a copy from the man’s hands.
When his father came smashing through the doors, a look of pure horror on his face, did he realise what he’d witnessed hadn’t been eagerness, but fear.
“Wall Maria has been breached,” his father said, his voice filled with despair. He spreads the newspaper out on the table. “A titan taller than the walls broke the gate.”
His mother stood on shaking legs. She skimmed the words on the paper over and over, and her eyes widened with what could only be terror.
Their reaction only solidified the terrifying thought that had been gnawing at Jonghyeon’s brain. The itch in his heart. The desire to be something more. He stood, turning to his parents with steely eyes. They don’t notice - too absorbed in the horrible news - until the words spill from his lips:
“I’m going to become a soldier.”
—
Jonghyeon sighs, watching the smoking corpses of titans scattered all over the streets from his vantage point on the rooftop. Trost had become a smoking pile of crap in just the half a day that the Survey Corps had been absent.
He grips his handles tighter when he spots a 5M class from afar, closing in on a group of inexperienced trainees. Leaping off the roof, he lets his ODM gear take him through the skies, piercing through winds and smoke until his blades land in the titan’s nape.
Fearful eyes stare at him. They’re young, and remind him of himself way back then. He tells them something about dedicating their hearts and being brave. Then another thing about moving fast to refrain from becoming titan fodder. They all scatter, but one remains.
A boy, slightly older than his fellow trainees, maybe just a year or two younger than Jonghyeon. His eyes are sparkling, filled with admiration and almost excitement - his trainee jacket stained with blood, either his own or his comrades’. He doesn’t say anything, maneuvering away with amazing speed.
It’s been a long time since anyone has looked at Jonghyeon like that. As a member of the Survey Corps, proud freedom fighters, all he got from the public when returning from expeditions were dirty stares and an occasional heckle. He got by, telling himself he was doing something good and that he didn’t need appreciation.
Still, it feels good to have someone look at him like that.
—
“...Dedicate your hearts!”
Jonghyeon stands by the sideline as his Commander spews nonsense at the Disbanding Ceremony. It’s been almost five years since Jonghyeon’s own ceremony. He’d never forget the terror he felt when dedicating himself to the Survey Corps. He almost rolls his eyes, hearing the Commander’s speech for the fifth year in a row.
He watches the trainees’ expressions, the gradual distortion of their faces into pure horror. The colour draining from their faces, their pale lips parting in silent screams. No doubt imagining the bloody deaths they’d certainly be doomed to if they chose to stay behind.
The ground shakes with the footsteps of those leaving. Jonghyeon almost nods in approval - anything might be better than being a Survey Corp. The outside wasn’t nearly as exciting as he’d imagined as a teenager. Just full of meaningless death and gore.
It was pathetic, the number of trainees who stayed behind. Barely enough to be considered useful. Jonghyeon does the salute anyway, smashing his fist to his chest, where his steady heartbeat thuds almost mockingly. His eyes scan the trainees, all their faces devoid of colour.
Jonghyeon spots one familiar face, and his familiar pair of shimmering eyes. They bore right into him, full of reckless determination and steadfast admiration. The fire in his eyes burns bright.
He might just be the soldier humanity needs.
—
“It’s an Abnormal!”
Jonghyeon turns his head at the shout of someone on his squad. He curses to himself when he spots the titan - a downright ugly thing, running with flailing limbs and bulging eyes. Firing off a black flare, he leads his squad forward.
“There’s something else! Another Abnormal!” Someone else yells over the thundering gallop of their horses, his voice shaking.
“It’s huge,” his right-hand woman, Hanna, says. She fires off a black flare, never taking her eyes off of it. Jonghyeon looks, tightening his hold on the reins. A lump forms in his throat just at the sight of it - tall, certainly 15M or more, and definitely special, with short blonde hair and distinctly female features. It runs effectively, scarily so. “It’s coming right for us. It’s gaining fast.”
A green flare shoots off somewhere in the distance. Jonghyeon takes a deep breath, fisting the reins so tight that his knuckles turn white.
“Just keep going!” His voice is loud, determined and confident. It shocks the rest of his squad back to attention. It gives them a new resolve. It reminds them of their dream, and their will to survive. They traverse the grass plains with new determination.
Jonghyeon suddenly wishes he could see him right now - the boy who gave him his resolve back. The boy with glittering eyes. The boy whose name he doesn’t even know. He’s somewhere on the right flank. But Jonghyeon has to focus on the mission.
Eventually, the Abnormal heads off somewhere else. It’s odd, for sure, but before Jonghyeon can think too much about it, a few 3M classes appear out of nowhere and snatch his attention.
He leaps out of the saddle, latching onto one of the titans and taking them all out in one swoop. It’s better to do things quickly out here, in the plains where the ODM gear didn’t give them much of an advantage. He lands right back in his saddle, and he feels the burning, tenacious gazes of his squad members on his back.
“Stay focused,” he reminds them, and himself. He can’t stop thinking about that boy.
He has to survive.
—
Jonghyeon lies on the soft grass, its blades tickling his neck and ear. Staring up at the bright blue sky and soft tufts of clouds, he wonders if he’s still alive. He bathes in the warm sun, its glow giving the world an amber hue.
Then, there’s a ringing in his ear and he opens his eyes.
He sits up immediately, his head spinning and pain blooming behind his eyes. Looking around, he sees his fellow soldiers, marked by green capes and the blue and white Wings of Freedom. He sees bundles of bloodied cloth on the ground. Corpses. Too many.
“Squad Leader,” Hanna materialises beside him with a worried expression. “You were hit, your injuries are most likely severe.” She holds onto him when he tries to get up. “Please, don’t move.”
“I…” Jonghyeon’s throat is so dry that the words barely come out. “I have to find him.”
Hanna looks confused. She stands, helping Jonghyeon stay upright. “Who?”
Jonghyeon opens his mouth to answer, but he doesn’t know the boy’s name. The boy with shiny eyes, who gave him a reason to be proud. The boy he wants to fight for. “I don’t know.” He says instead.
“Squad Leader, please, you should rest.” Hanna leads him to the back of a wagon, resting his head on a makeshift pillow of folded cloth. She drapes her cape over him, her expression full of sympathy. Full of pain.
His eyelids grow heavy, but they snap right back open at the Commander’s yell.
“Yoon Dongju!”
That name - he doesn’t know it, but it sounds familiar nonetheless. He tilts his head to see the small commotion. He gets to his feet, faster than lightning, forcing the pain away as he trudges across the grass as fast as he can go.
Soon, he’s staring into glimmering eyes, and the world stops.
—
The night is cold, but still. Not a gust of wind, not a sound. Jonghyeon stands on the balcony of the Survey Corps Headquarters with a mug of water and thick bandages around his chest and stomach.
According to Hanna, he’d fainted shortly after running toward Yoon Dongju. She was curious, her eyes betrayed her despite her silence. He didn’t tell her anything - there was nothing to tell. The name echoes in his head. Yoon Dongju.
There’s a knock on the door. Too firm to be Hanna and too polite to be the Commander. “Come in,” he says without turning around. The door opens and shuts gently, but no voice or introduction comes. Instead, someone joins him on the balcony.
Jonghyeon turns to look, and he’s shocked by who he sees.
“Squad Leader Jonghyeon,” Yoon Dongju says, almost carefully. As if it were precious. His eyes are bloodshot, his skin pale. He looks worse for wear. It’s to be expected, after that devastating expedition just a few days ago. Jonghyeon suspects he looks similar, maybe worse.
“Dongju,” Jonghyeon doesn’t know what to say. There’s a tense pause as he watches Dongju gaze poignantly down at the empty street. The look in his eyes was just as Jonghyeon remembered. Full of hope.
“Do you know why I became a soldier?” Dongju takes a deep breath, turning to look Jonghyeon in the eye.
“Not a clue.” Jonghyeon mutters truthfully. He can’t imagine why a person would want to become a soldier. He can barely remember why he’d wanted to become a soldier, all those years ago. How would he have turned out if he’d just stayed in the capitol, manning his father’s shop? If he’d just been like his brother, a normal boy with normal aspirations? What would life have been like if the Colossal Titan and Armoured Titan hadn’t destroyed Wall Maria five years ago?
“Because of you.”
Dongju’s eyes glisten, and it brings Jonghyeon back to that day. That day in Trost, when he’d come face-to-face with Dongju for the first time.
“I was a kid, standing by the side of the street waiting for the Survey Corps to return from a day’s expedition,” Dongju sighs, and when he continues, his voice is trembling. “I saw the Commander’s stoic expression, then the hopeless, downtrodden faces of the rest.
“Then, I saw you. A teenager, barely a few years older than me, covered in the blood of his friends, battered by the outside world,” Dongju chews his bottom lip, staring up at the stars scattered in the night sky. “You smiled at me.”
Jonghyeon doesn’t remember this, not in the slightest. He attributes it to the countless times he’s returned to the Walls, having lost his friends in brutal ways. Maybe he’d dissociated, or lost his mind.
“I wondered how you could smile,” Dongju says, the corner of his lip lifting in a lopsided smirk. “I decided I want to be like you.”
“You shouldn’t be like me,” Jonghyeon blurts out without much of a thought. He tears his gaze away from Dongju, staring into his mug and his own reflection in the still water. His eye bags seem to have gotten darker since the last time he actually took a moment to look at his reflection.
“Why not?” Dongju’s soft voice fills the space between them. “Even after meeting you, my mind hasn’t changed.”
Jonghyeon’s chest feels warm for the first time since he became a soldier. His eyes drift to the symbol on Dongju’s jacket pocket - the Wings of Freedom - and back up to his face. He’s looking up at the sky again, a soft smile on his face and stars in his eyes.
For the first time, Jonghyeon feels a yearning in his heart.
A yearning for freedom.
For a future.
—
Jonghyeon runs his fingers over the screws and bolts of his ODM gear. It’s an interesting design, and he wonders how it came to be. It was probably taught back in school, and again in the Training Corp, but he can barely remember those times of his life anymore.
Routine maintenance of the ODM gear, an essential piece of equipment for every soldier, was a huge event in every faction of the Military. Except maybe the Interior Police - they didn’t care about anything. But for the Survey Corps, the proper function of their equipment could be the difference between life and death.
And so, Jonghyeon sits with the members of his squad, Hanna on his right as usual, checking every component of the equipment. He’s barely done with the preliminary checks for his squad when Dongju approaches.
“Squad Leader Jonghyeon,” he says, holding his dismantled equipment in hand. “Could you help me with mine?”
“Where’s your squad leader?” Jonghyeon asks even as he takes Dongju’s equipment in hand.
“No idea.” Dongju’s tone is slightly off, and Jonghyeon starts to think he’s lying to him. He raises an eyebrow at the younger soldier but brushes off the feeling quickly. Telling Hanna to take over, he sits off to the side with Dongju.
He watches as Dongju undoes one of the bolts on his gear. As the day goes by, Jonghyeon and Dongju check their equipment thoroughly. While teaching Dongju some tips and tricks to keeping his ODM gear efficient, Jonghyeon notices him shifting restlessly.
“Have a question?” Jonghyeon asks as he begins reassembling his own gear.
“Not exactly,” Dongju mumbles under his breath, taking a wet rag to the grime on his gear. “It’s got nothing to do with the gear.”
“Say it anyway,” Jonghyeon gives Dongju a smile.
Dongju takes a deep breath. “Let’s go to the oak tree together someday.”
Jonghyeon isn’t quite sure what he’d expected, but it definitely wasn’t that.
“Okay,” he answers as casually as he can, but he thinks his voice quivers a little.
—
The grass crunches beneath Jonghyeon’s boots. He tails carefully behind Dongju, leaving a comfortable distance. The wind blows from the North, rustling the leaves of the large oak tree.
Ever since joining the training corps, he’s been hearing stories of this tree. It’s a place where the townspeople make wishes, where they pray for good outcomes and the safety of their loved ones. Those within Wall Maria, close to the outskirts, come here and wish upon a leaf or carve things into the bark.
Dongju pulls out a hunting knife, kneeling by the trunk and carefully picking a spot. He carves decisively, and finishes just as Jonghyeon approaches.
DJ + JH
“What does it mean?” Jonghyeon asks, touching the rough edges of the primitive carving. He observes many other carvings like it in the area, combinations of letters and words wishing for good health.
Dongju grins as he sits cross-legged on the grass, back against the tough bark of the old tree. Jonghyeon sits right next to him. “It’s a new beginning. I wanted to come here today, ‘cause tomorrow’s another expedition.” Dongju shifts, hugging his legs to his chest and looking wistfully at the sky. “Who knows if I’ll get to see this sky again after tomorrow?”
A soft breeze hits Jonghyeon’s face, and he feels compelled to wrap an arm around Dongju. It surprises the younger boy, but he melts into it nonetheless.
“Do you think we’ll ever be free?”
Jonghyeon squeezes Dongju’s shoulder. “I don’t know,” Jonghyeon looks up when a bird flying by catches his attention. “But I’ll keep fighting for it. For you.”
Dongju leans over, kissing Jonghyeon on the cheek.
—
The Survey Corps have been in a flurry, preparing for the biggest expedition of humanity’s history. The plan to retake Wall Maria. Just sitting in the meeting room, listening to the Commander drawl about the plan and formation, brought him back to that very day.
The day he thought he’d found his purpose.
The day he was foolish enough to believe he’d be truly passionate about anything.
His eyes drift from the chalkboard when the Commander turns his back. Particularly, his gaze is drawn to someone, sitting a row in front of him.
The back of Dongju’s head seems to evoke a feeling in him, something dreadful. He was afraid. Afraid that this mission would take something from him that he valued more than his own life. He watches as Dongju scribbles something down in a notebook, his steady hand showing his confidence.
Jonghyeon feels the fire in his chest rekindle.
Maybe he truly is passionate about something.
—
When Jonghyeon opens his eyes, all he sees is blue.
The bright blue sky, painted with soft flurries of white clouds. Sun hits his face, dousing him in warmth. His eyelids feel heavy, and his head foggy. He can’t quite remember where he is, or what he was doing before this. It’s quiet, peaceful. Too good to be true. Groaning, he sits up, touching his temple where a searing pain had begun to spread.
“Squad Leader,” he hears a voice in his head, slightly far away, echoing.
Hanna’s hand touches his shoulder, shocking him. He recoils, but quickly recovers when he sees her face. She looks bad, tired and probably injured, covered in blood - blood that wasn’t smoking. Human blood.
Looking past her shoulder, Jonghyeon realises that they’re on top of the wall.
Everything comes back to him then: retaking Wall Maria, being attacked by large mutant titans, the blood and gore and death. A heavy dread fills his chest, infecting his heart and constricting his lungs - he can’t breathe. His knuckles turn white with how hard he’s gripping Hanna’s arm.
“Dongju?” He asks, his voice hoarse and embarrassingly shaky. As a member of the Survey Corps, losing the people close to him wasn’t new at all. But could he really survive losing Dongju? At the very thought of the worst, the pain in his chest becomes too much to bear.
Hanna’s eyes are glassy, sympathetic. “I don’t know.”
Jonghyeon rises to his feet shakily despite Hanna’s protests. He puts on gas tanks and picks up new blades. Every step he takes, he feels pain. In his body and in his mind, pain overtakes him. His vision gets blurry, and only when he rubs at his eyes does he realise he’s crying.
All of a sudden, he remembers that day - beneath the shade of the old oak tree. Dongju’s warmth, nestled in his arms. Dongju’s beautiful smile. The way the wind combed through his hair and the sound of Dongju’s soft laughter. Their fingers intertwining, the soft kiss against his cheek.
He’s brought back to the present when he stares down from the terrifying height of the wall. With a shaky exhale, he walks off the edge, catching himself with his ODM gear. His feet hit the ground with a devastating thud, sending a puff of ash into the air. Every step feels heavy, but he forces himself to go forward.
“Dongju!” His voice trembles desperately. “Dongju!”
He sees someone, crushed by a piece of debris from a fallen house. His legs drag him over and as he gets closer, he starts to wonder. How would it feel, seeing Dongju’s lifeless face? His motionless body? Or worse yet, barely alive, to witness the warmth fading from his eyes? He can’t think like that. He has to hope. What’s humanity without hope? It’s the reason they’d gotten this far. It’s what Dongju believes in.
“Hey!” Someone calls to him, running up and grabbing both his shoulders. Another squad leader who Jonghyeon can’t quite remember the name of. “What the hell are you doing down here? You’re injured! Do you have a death wish?”
“Shut up,” he flicks the stranger’s arm off of him. “I’m looking for someone.”
The stranger doesn’t say anything. For a moment, the air is still and the silence seems almost threatening. “There’s no survivors,” he says, his eyes filling with sickening sympathy. Jonghyeon doesn’t want sympathy. He doesn’t need it. He’d find Dongju alive and prove this man wrong. He pulls away roughly out of his grasp.
The stranger shouts after him, but he can’t hear it as he walks away. His eyes fill with tears again. This shouldn’t be any different than the countless times he’d witnessed the deaths of his fellow soldiers, and heard their terrified screams in their last moments - but it is different. It feels like a part of him is crumbling, his very heart being ripped from his chest.
He breathes once more when he hears the shout of another soldier, piercing urgently through the stillness.
“Someone’s here! He’s still alive!”
—
Jonghyeon sits by the bed, holding Dongju’s hand in his.
He touches each callus, every scar. He interlocks their fingers, squeezing tight and feeling Dongju’s warmth seeping into his skin. He brings Dongju’s hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles.
Dongju’s head is wrapped in a thick layer of bandages, his eyes shut peacefully. His chest rises and falls, slightly shallow but steady.
When he was found, he was worse for wear. A bloodied mess, but still in one piece. Still breathing. Still alive. The other soldiers commented that it was ‘nothing short of a miracle’, and that ‘he has something he wants to live for’. Jonghyeon had broken down crying, ugly wails ripping from his throat.
He held Dongju’s hand all the way home, all through the townspeople’s parade in celebration of their victorious return. He wished Dongju could’ve heard the things the townspeople were saying - who would’ve thought they’d be cheering? Dongju would’ve laughed. But he remained silent and unmoving.
He sits with Dongju every day, telling him things and silently praying to every star he can see and every divine being he can think of. Even when Hanna calls him over for meals, he doesn’t budge, and she has to bring him his food, which he barely touches anyway.
“Dongju,” he whispers, every day. “I love you.”
Silence is all he ever hears back.
—
Jonghyeon has a dream that night.
He sees Dongju standing by the sink, washing the dishes, humming a tune. Outside, it’s peaceful. Sunny. Some neighbourhood kids run by. He’s sitting at the table, reading the paper. When he looks up, Dongju’s drying his hands on a cloth, walking over with a soft smile.
Dongju touches his hair affectionately, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. He looks up in disbelief. Somehow, he knows that it’s a dream. Yet, it feels so real. It makes his heart skip a beat, his face flushing warmly. And he wants this feeling to last.
His hand cups Dongju’s cheek, and he can almost feel the warmth on his palm. Bright eyes look back into his, crinkled at the corners as he laughs. It echoes in his head, in tandem with his heartbeat.
When he wakes at Dongju’s bedside, he sees the same eyes staring back at him. Glassy, tired, but alive.
“Dongju,” he sits up immediately, grabbing Dongju’s hand and holding on tight. “Dongju,” he repeats, softer, blinking hard to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.
“Were you dreaming?” Dongju’s voice is quiet, hoarse. Barely there, but the sound of it makes Jonghyeon’s eyes well up with tears. “Yeah,” is all he manages, his voice quivering as he chokes back his cries. He feels the gentle squeeze of Dongju’s hand in his, and the tears begin to fall uncontrollably.
“What about?”
“You.”
The corners of Dongju’s mouth lift in a smile. “Did you miss me that much?”
“I almost lost you,” Jonghyeon whispers.
Dongju guides Jonghyeon’s hand to his chest, letting his beating heart say the words.
Jonghyeon counts the beats in his mind, and the feeling makes him cry. His shoulders shake with each sob. He rests his forehead on Dongju’s shoulder, bawling pathetically when he feels Dongju’s touch, tenderly petting his hair.
Now, he can finally feel his own heartbeat too.
—
Jonghyeon’s hands shake as he sets a metal meal tray on the nightstand. The soup is piping hot, and the bread looks just about as fresh as soldier rations could get. He turns to look at Dongju, sleeping peacefully, stirring and twitching every now and then - alive. It feels almost surreal, like everything might just be okay after all.
The air in the room stills when Dongju opens his eyes. They’re bright, alert, noticing Jonghyeon immediately. He tilts his head to look at the food, undoubtedly drawn by the aroma. As he shoves spoonfuls of soup into his mouth, Jonghyeon watches, grateful.
Closing the door, Jonghyeon decides to take a walk. The past week has been horrible, despite the mission being a success the losses were huge. Almost all of the Survey Corps had been wiped out, leaving just ten or so surviving soldiers. Another squad leader had taken the position of Commander - but what’s next?
What would become of humanity, now that the Survey Corps are incapacitated? They may have taken back Wall Maria, but what are the chances that nothing devastating would ever occur again? He thinks back to that wonderful dream he’d had, and how much he’d like it to come true, even if just for a while.
“Squad Leader!”
Hanna catches up to him in the back of the Survey Corp headquarters, near to the edge of the woods. He’d been walking without an aim, and wandered all the way out here. Pursing his lips, he turns to meet Hanna’s eyes.
She looks just as cold and level as she always did, but her eyes creased with just the tiniest bit of sadness. The rest of their squad had perished. They only have each other.
“Dongju is okay, right? I heard he woke up,” Hanna says, her lips curving in a smile. A feeble attempt to show relief. To mask her hopelessness.
“He’s eating,” Jonghyeon mutters, tearing his eyes away from her face to stare at a single daisy in the ground, swaying in the wind.
“It’s a miracle,” he can feel Hanna’s soft gaze on him. “I’m glad for him. And you.”
Jonghyeon swallows, the lump in his throat growing. His eyes sting, but he holds back his tears. “Thank you.”
There’s a pause, the silence filled by rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze.
“Are you okay?” Hanna finally asks, her voice barely audible.
It takes Jonghyeon a while to answer. Okay? What defines being okay? He’s okay - he’s alive, breathing. The same couldn’t be said for the rest of his squad. He’s relieved that Dongju is alive. But he’s not okay - he’s terrified, petrified, filled with dread at the thought of having to go through this again, wracked with guilt for his fallen comrades.
“I guess so,” he decides to say. When he looks up, Hanna’s face is unreadable.
“It’s okay if you’re not,” Hanna’s voice is quiet. “I know I’m not.”
“I’m terrified,” Jonghyeon says aloud for the first time in ages. “I don’t want to lose Dongju.” He mumbles. He’s not sure if Hanna heard, but the soft smile on her face felt knowing.
Jonghyeon chews on his bottom lip, looking up at a bird flying across the brilliant blue sky. “I don’t know if I can keep fighting like this.”
Hanna sighs, tilting her head back and closing her eyes, bathing in the warm sun. “Me neither.”
—
Dongju is up on his feet in just a few days, running laps around the facility as if he was never injured. He smiles and laughs as usual, and after the devastating events of the past two weeks, it ticks some people off. Another soldier punches him, and his nose bleeds. Jonghyeon, busy with training of his own, wasn’t the first to get the news. When he finally hears, he runs to Dongju’s room, knocking on the door a little too quickly.
The younger man opens the door, the puzzled look on his face instantly turning to a playful grin when he sees Jonghyeon. The towel around his neck is spotted red on one corner, and a bandage sits on his nose bridge. When he speaks, he sounds slightly nasally. “What’re you doing here?”
“I heard about what happened,” Jonghyeon lets himself in, closing the door behind him. His hands are immediately cupping Dongju’s face, his thumbs caressing the old, fading bruises on his cheeks. “Does it hurt?”
“Yeah it hurts. Everything hurts.” Dongju wraps his arms around Jonghyeon’s waist, nestling his face into the older man’s chest. “Make me feel better.”
Gingerly, Jonghyeon returns Dongju’s hug. “How?”
“Like this.” Dongju pulls back briefly.
Before Jonghyeon can realise what’s about to happen, Dongju’s lips are pressed against his.
When they pull apart, Dongju grins at Jonghyeon lopsidedly.
“When’s the next expedition?” Dongju asks, turning away to check his bandage in a nearby mirror as if nothing happened.
“Nothing’s planned yet. We had too many losses the last time so we’re not ready,” Jonghyeon tells the truth, noticing Dongju’s visible disappointment. He swallows thickly, the feeling of Dongju’s lips on his still lingering with a vivid memory.
“Darn,” he frowns. “I had a theory, but I guess I won’t be able to test it any time soon.”
“What is it?” Jonghyeon asks when he turns around to look at him.
Dongju purses his lips. “I think there’s a sea out there, if we go far enough. The ocean. Just water, for as far as our eyes can see.”
“Really?” Jonghyeon places a hand on Dongju’s waist as he approaches.
“Yeah,” Dongju looks down, fiddling with the hem of Jonghyeon’s jacket.
“I’ll take you to it. Next time when we’re out,” Jonghyeon promises boldly.
Dongju chuckles, looking up with bright eyes that seemed to twinkle more each day. “I’ll hold you to that,”
As Jonghyeon looks into those eyes, he feels hope for this doomed world once more.