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Ash pelts down from the sky, just like tiny, gray flecks of snow. It burns and burns until he pictures constellations of pain pinpricking his body. It burns until it's extinguished by Kihyun's skin. Instead of piling up- colorless and pristine- it coats the streets. It coats his throat, until he imagines he might as well be swallowing sand. His grip on his crutches wavers, until he lets go of one and then the other.
After that, Kihyun keeps going.
He knows what he should be escaping, but he's not thinking about that.
He doesn't know where he's heading, but his eyes never leave the horizon.
*
The return to consciousness isn't anything like a gently plummeting wave. It isn't an imperceptible shifting of the wind's direction. It's a plummet. A crash. Something that, by all rights, should leave fractures in every single one of Kihyun's bones. Something that should leave shards just like the shattered bits of an eggshell. While he recovers from the shock of it all, self-assured hands free him from the wires that are attached to his temples. What would happen if they poked him and he went to pieces?
He's greeted by a different scientist almost every time, and Kihyun is somewhat curious about them. There's clearly some distant land that has an endless supply of people with clipboards, pristine lab coats, and cool voices that expect obedience.
"Our computer simulation has reminded your body how to walk. Now do it."
The first time he'd been issued this order, Kihyun had wanted to punch someone until all their teeth fell out. Violence is the rotten heartbeat of this country, but that moment had been the first time he'd wanted to hurt anyone. That moment was when he'd fully understood desire.
But that was weeks ago. Fifty-two weeks ago, in fact. And now he's just bored. Now, to keep from yawning, he forces himself to notice something new each time. Today he wonders how they know he's walking in each simulation. At this point, he's fairly sure he has some free will within them. No more and no less than any other dream. Maybe they're able to watch on a computer screen.
"Now walk." No impatience, no anger. There's nothing at all in the scientist's voice. Just an assumption that Kihyun should be able to walk they want him to. Like he's just being stubborn.
Kihyun slides from the examination table until his bare feet touch the scalding cold floor.
He can walk. The government's people never seem to acknowledge this. True, it's always like this; slow and labored. Difficult, particularly without crutches or canes. But he can move.
"Okay." The scientist consults his notes, then watches Kihyun. Looks at his notes, and then looks at Kihyun. "You are still limping, There's no deterioration from the ranking you were given last week, but no marked improvement either."
Kihyun hardly knows what to say to that. Back when he was very young, and average citizens were still allowed cars, his family had gotten into a crash. No one had been killed, but his knee had been extensively damaged. There had been several hour of excruciating delirium. Healing had come in fits and starts, and nothing was the same as before. There have been "good" days and "bad" days that have piled up into well over a decade. This is who he is now, and he's not sure why they are fixated on changing it.
Above all, Kihyun knows this: you can't outwit damaged nerves. No hope, no prayer, no government enforced mandate can command something like that. He sometimes wishes he had x-rays of his nerves. They're hidden deep inside the juncture of his upper and lower leg, but the authorities must know what they look like.
Most of the time, he's fine with his own imagination. He imagines those nerves looking like the twisted roots of some flower. Something deep and vital within his straining muscles.
*
Changkyun meets him just outside the Facility's gates. An isolated and strangely guileless figure, his hands buried deep within the pockets of his hoodie. He's out of place.
Except he isn't at all. His place is with Kihyun. They both know it, even if they haven't said it, yet.
Kihyun shifts one of his crutches so that he's holding both of them in one hand. He helps himself to Changkyun's shoulder, even though the support isn't strictly necessary. Changkyun often seems to smell of gasoline, or gunpowder, or other illicit things. Kihyun chooses to abstain from most of the Clan's illegal activities, mostly to protect his family, but he makes an exception for the ritual. He makes an exception for the sacred flowers and his communion with the Clan. The risk is always worth it when he sees Jooheon transformed from callow rebel to steam-wreathed priest. The risk is always worth it when Kihyun paints Changkyun's face with audaciously and illegally bright pigment. He worries a lot, but the risk is always, always worth it.)
They leave the Simulation Facility. They never really say 'hello' or 'how are you?' on these days. None of the others know that Kihyun is hauled over here, without fail, every week. Consequently, none of the others can form opinions about whether this is to help him or to shame him. Not that intent counts for much when the reality leaves him like this.
The Clan shares everything. Except when they don't. Kihyun is sure they all have something- one terrible fact- that can't be pried from their hearts.
Except... Except he had shared it. Kihyun had confessed this truth only once to Changkyun, during the ritual, when he'd been higher than the clouds. Higher than the stars. The words had poured out like drunken laughter. Like sacred paint. And then Changkyun had grabbed his face. That was their first- and so far only- kiss. Kihyun had unburdened himself against Changkyun's lips.
And now they meet like this every week.
Someone usually breaks the silence on the meandering shuffle back home. Today it's Kihyun.
"I want to go to the green house." He wants to see Changkyun glowing in the bright lights. So illuminated he might as well be naked. He wants to grab fistfuls of the sacred flowers and feast on them. Without prayers or preparation. He wants to feel holy and untouchable. "Right now."
Changkyun rarely expresses anything other than bemused enjoyment, but, leaning up against him, Kihyun can feel the surprise in his body.
"It's not the day of the ritual. Are we allowed to...?"
It nearly makes Kihyun laugh. He knows, without ever being told, that Changkyun has done so many criminal things. Up to and including arson against the government. But he doesn't want to go against the Clan's unspoken rules. It makes Kihyun want to turn around and fully embrace Changkyun.
Instead, he allows Changkyun to opt out; "Just... think about it. For the next time, maybe."
"Okay." Maybe that's relief in Changkyun's voice. Maybe it's something else.
*
It's a waking dream this time. Maybe it will always be this way, now that he's sure the government is watching these simulations. Maybe he wants to make a statement.
This time, he's not running. This time he's fighting. They have Hyunwoo, Hyungwon and Minhyuk somewhere. In the underworld? In a prison-lab?
It doesn't matter.
Here's what matters; Kihyun gets a gun and shoots a soldier right in the face. Transforms a thinking, walking enforcer of The Will of the People into a useless heap of bones and flesh. Stuffs that mess into a bag, and hauls it all the way to a barred set of doors.
This is is offering. This is his sacrifice. He will unlock the doors to hell and bring his friends back.
This thought blazes through him. Until the moment he looks back, and Changkyun isn't there.
*
"You are still limping, There's no deterioration from the ranking you were given last week, but no marked improvement either."
*
Kihyun can't decide if he's terrified or triumphant. But he knows how he feels when he sees Changkyun waiting for him this week. Like all the weeks before, like all the weeks to come. Simulation be damned. When Kihyun leans on him, Changkyun leans back. They wrap their arms around each other's waist.
"I can't make myself go to the green house. It's just ... feels wrong?" Changkyun laughs, seemingly a bit embarrassed. "I really did think about it all week. But I can't."
"That's okay. That's fine." Kihyun hopes he isn't babbling. "I think I understand."
"How about you come back with me instead?"
Kihyun realizes their post-simulation walk is a ritual, too. Every week Changkyun meets him here. Every week, he leaves when they make it to Kihyun's doorstep. And now Changkyun is shattering that, with a casual question.
"Let's go."
Unlike Kihyun, Changkyun doesn't live with family. Like Minhyuk, he lives in a small shack with a cot and not much else.
Not that they need anything else. As soon as they're inside, Kihyun kisses Changkyun. Kisses him finally. Kisses him fully. No flowers, no prayers, no confessions. Just the strangely sober reality of long-delayed need. They throw every single one of Changkyun's blankets onto the floor and lie down on them. They shed everything; clothes, propriety, the world. Everything.
Kihyun licks and tastes Changkyun, starting with his shoulder. He's so well-acquainted with it, after all. But then he moves lower and lower still. And Changkyun... Changkyun is careful, yes, but he doesn't touch Kihyun like he's a figurine made of glass. He doesn't make that mistake. Changkyun touches him with awestruck vigor. Purposeful desire. Kihyun's not looking to change Kihyun. He wants Kihyun, right now, as he is. As he always will be.
When they're done, Changkyun dozes off at once. Sated and content. Kihyun keeps staring, though. He keeps looking at Changkyun, until sleep comes for him, too.
Kihyun doesn't dream. Kihyun doesn't need to dream.