Chapter Text
“Nice place.”
Hyunjin looked down at the building with barely-concealed disgust. Where once there had been a bustling warehouse, there now stood a desolate concrete slab tucked within the dark crevices of their city. It looked like a grey amalgamation of lost dreams and hopeless despair. The perfect lair for a villain, according to Chan.
“Thinking of buying?” Minho asked casually. Hyunjin rolled his eyes.
“When’s the last time anyone’s cleaned up around here?” Changbin muttered. He shuddered against the frigid night breeze and folded his arms over his chest. Goosebumps trailed up and down his bare skin.
“It looks better than your room, though,” Seungmin commented. Felix snickered, crouched behind him.
Changbin puffed out his cheeks. “Hey!”
Chan gave him a scathing look from across the metal catwalk, where a sudden drop gave way to the edifice below them. He was perched on the very edge, eagle-eyes peering into the black abyss of night, while also trying to keep his teammates from doing something stupid. The shadows made by the fat-faced moon in the sky only seemed to make Chan’s expression more unnerving.
“That’s enough,” he said. “This is a stealth mission, remember? No quips, no fighting. And—Seungmin, for the love of—Put on your ear-piece! Don’t make me tell you again.”
Seungmin huffed as he shoved the plastic into his ear, though with great reluctance.
He was never a fan of stealth missions. He was basically useless unless someone got hurt, but he never wanted that. He just wanted to go home and lay on their couch and watch a baseball game. Maybe have a nice meal, something hearty. But, alas, being a hero meant sacrificing his Saturday night plans for the greater good. And apparently the greater good meant spying on some loser in his hideout.
Seungmin would have declined, but Chan was adamant that they go on more missions as a team. As a bonding exercise—or whatever excuse he had come up with in their last team meeting. Personally, Seungmin didn’t think this type of mission really needed seven people. But no one was asking for his opinion, were they?
In retaliation, Seungmin huffed and flicked a stray peddle on the ground. It landed on the back of Changbin’s calf.
Changbin whipped around and shot the boy a glare. “Cut it out,” he gritted, gripping the railing near his head a little too tightly. He looked almost as terrified to be on this rickety thing as Minho—and Seungmin could see Minho sweating.
Seungmin smirked at him. Annoying Changbin was so easy. And fun. Much more interesting than waiting around in the dark for Chan to give them orders.
“Sorry, didn’t see you there. Probably ‘cause you’re so short.”
“Seungmin, I swear, I’m going to—”
“Stop it, Changbin,” Minho interrupted, whipping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “You heard Chan-hyung.”
Changbin opened his mouth in indignation. Minho shot him a deadly glare, and then Changbin began to pout. Seungmin stuck his tongue out at him when Minho wasn’t looking, just to rub it in.
“Everyone knows the plan,” Chan said, once Minho had connected him to the crackling earpiece, “keep to the corners and stick with your group. I don’t want any reckless behavior. We’re not having a repeat of last time.”
Seungmin’s eyes instinctively slid to Jisung, who was trying to ignore the jab but was clearly failing. His lips were pursed and his fingertips were subtly turning transparent in embarrassment.
“That was one time,” he whispered, looking away.
Felix patted him on the shoulder. “There, there,” he consoled mildly.
“Jisung, Seungmin” —Chan pointed at the two— “with Minho. The rest with me.”
Seungmin wanted to toss his head back and groan, but he knew that would only warrant a punch from Minho and a severe scolding from Chan. Petulantly, he had hoped that he would be paired with Changbin so he could continue tormenting him. But Minho was no fun, and Jisung was just plain annoying.
It wasn’t that Seungmin held anything against Jisung, particularly, but something about him just set Seungmin’s teeth on edge. He had been Chan’s very first pick, the person Chan had gone to the moment the company had told him to build a team. But he wasn’t anything special. He didn’t really know what Chan saw in the boy, honestly.
Jisung’s power was so common-place, so unremarkable and insipid, it seemed to rub off on his very personality, too. He clung to the walls and barely talked to anyone but Minho and Chan. Half the time Seungmin didn’t even know he was there at all. During practice, his main tactic was camouflage and run. Jisung was invisible, both literally and metaphorically. He just wasn’t really the hero type.
Perhaps, then, the reason Seungmin didn’t like Jisung was because of Jisung’s ineptitude at the whole superhero thing, or perhaps it was just pure jealousy that Jisung was Chan’s first. Either way, Seungmin was not very keen on spending more time with the boy than was necessary. Especially in some creepy, abandoned warehouse prowled by some B-class villain.
Changbin and Felix looked happy with their group, though. Changbin pinched Seungmin’s side as he brushed past, to which Seungmin squirmed away. Felix winked at him exaggeratedly.
“Make sure to hold hands so Seungminnie doesn’t wander,” Changbin teased.
Minho would have rather eaten his shoe. Jisung was too busy sulking to really care, but if he got any ideas in that vacant skull of his, Seungmin would be sure to shake them out.
“Remember the plan,” Chan warned as the two teams parted.
His hushed voice echoed inside Seungmin's mind as his group entered the second floor of the main building—or what was left of it—through a broken window near the drop-off.
The plan was simple: figure out which villain had been using the warehouse for their evil agenda, spy on them a bit, and then leave without being noticed. No action, Chan had stressed. No high stakes.
Seungmin’s team was to patrol the west side of the building. Supposedly, Chan’s team would be on the north side, and then the two teams would converge to cover East and South together. If they saw anything suspicious, they were to alert the other team and turn back.
Minho was doing a pretty good job of leading their small pack through the narrow halls and vacant tombs of the warehouse. Jisung took up the rear, while Seungmin had been unceremoniously shoved into the middle. (Changbin’s little crack earlier hadn't been so playful in that regard, because Seungmin was known to wander off during missions.)
It was dark, save for the beam of Minho's flashlight. Seungmin heard the sound of little mice scurrying along their path. The tap, tap, tap, of rainwater occasionally interrupted the silence, too, but it quickly melted into the background.
“Are we having takeout for dinner tonight?” Seungmin asked absently.
“Focus,” Minho whispered.
“I am focused. What’re we having for dinner?”
Minho suddenly paused. Seungmin nearly walked into him, only stopping inches away from his back. Jisung, however, smacked straight into his.
“Dude,” Jisung said, “watch where you’re going.”
Seungmin frowned. “You’re the one that—“
“Shut up,” Minho interrupted. His head was tilted up towards the ceiling, where Seungmin could faintly make out the beams and rusted metal which barely held the place together. His eyes were narrowed into thin slits; a bad sign.
“What is it?” Jisung said, his voice so quiet it was hardly a whisper at all.
A beat passed. Two. Then—
Seungmin heard it.
Cracking. Splintering.
Metal
groaning against
Metal.
A break
in the ceiling
above their heads.
Someone let out a scream, and it wasn’t until someone pushed Seungmin to the ground did he realize that it was coming from him.
But by then, it was already too late.
Seungmin was soaked. Uncomfortably, utterly, soaked. Straight to the bone. He didn’t know much else except for the feeling of his suit sticking to his back and stringy locks of his hair dangling in front of his face. A smell like pure iron hit his nose so violently it made him want to gag. But his chest was tight, constricted; all that came out was a weak moan.
He peeled his eyelids back.
In the darkness, there was only the sound of water drizzling and nothing else. He couldn’t see anything. Seungmin knew, however, that he was positioned at such an unnatural angle that even if he could see, he wouldn’t know which way was up or down.
Something was digging into his shoulder and pinning him down. Tiny, needle-like rocks pressed into his stomach and chest, and a great weight lay on top of his back. Really, he felt like a waffle in a waffle-maker.
When Seungmin tried to stretch out his limbs, break free of the rubble, a sharp, intense pain shot through his leg. It was pure, brutal agony. He howled, muscles tensing, and his voice echoed out into the abyss, warping and warping until it sounded like laughter instead of screaming.
His body barely budged.
He was stuck.
Great. Just great. Could it get any worse?
“Hh... Hey.”
Seungmin snapped his head up. He squinted through the darkness, but still couldn’t make out the source of that rasping noise.
“Hello?”
“Seungmin-ah,” came the quiet response.
And then the rasping sounded much more familiar than Seungmin had originally thought, like... like the voice of one of his teammates.
“Jisung?”
“Yeah,” Jisung replied hoarsely. “Are you okay? I heard... screaming.”
Seungmin licked his lips. He was far from okay. Everything ached, everything burned, everything was stuck. And the more he thought about that, the quicker his breathing became, the faster his heart beat. “I can’t move.”
“Niether can I.”
“I think,” Seungmin said, shuddering as a wave of newfound pain washed over him, “the ceiling collapsed.”
Jisung muttered something he couldn’t hear.
“What? I can hear you.”
“Minho,” Jisung repeated, more frantic this time. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. “Where’s Minho-hyung?”
Seungmin’s heart nearly stopped. He hadn’t forgotten about Minho, but the fact that he hadn’t heard a peep from the older boy didn’t fully process in his mind until Jisung said something.
“You don’t think he’s—”
“No,” Seungmin cut him off, shaking his head, “no, he isn’t.”
Seungmin couldn’t let either of them think that way. And even if it was a lie, a small part of him had to believe in it. Minho was strong. He wasn’t dead—perhaps injured, but he would be okay. He had to be.
“He’s... He’s probably getting help.”
Jisung didn’t respond.
Seungmin frowned. “Jisung?”
“Hurts,” he whispered, after a painstakingly long moment. His voice was wet, like he was crying. “It hurts so bad, Seungmin.”
Out of everyone on the team, Jisung probably had the weakest pain tolerance. It wasn’t anything anyone held over him, of course, because you really can’t control those types of things, but it was something that everyone held in the back of their minds, because it reminded them to be delicate.
Seungmin, however, was hardly delicate in anything he did.
“Get it together,” he said, harsher than he intended. “I’m in pain, too.”
“Can’t you do something?” he spat back, sniffling.
“Like what? I’m stuck, too.”
“Just, like, move your arm or something! I don’t know!”
Seungmin rolled his eyes, but complied. His left arm was free, though it felt like hell and his shoulder wasn’t much better, and he could probably reach Jisung if he tried hard enough. He was pretty close, wasn’t he?
He stretched out his arm, ignoring the pain coming from his shoulder, and extended his fingers as far as they would go.
But when Seungmin brushed empty nothingness, his lips parted.
“I can’t reach,” he whispered into the dark.
There was a sharp intake of breath. “What?” Jisung said, then, “Don’t joke, man.”
“I’m not joking. I—I can’t reach.”
“Just try a little harder.”
“I am!” Seungmin shouted. He paused. Jisung needed Seungmin’s help, not his anger. Yelling would do neither of them any good.
“Sorry,” Seungmin sighed, “I’m—”
“You really can’t,” Jisung interrupted him, but his voice seemed distant, far-off. He let out a disbelieving scoff, and then, suddenly, Seungmin heard the sounds of rocks scraping together and metal grinding against metal.
“Dude, what are you doing?”
“I need to get out!” Jisung shouted. “I need—”
“Stop! Jisung, stop! You’ll only make it worse!” Seungmin felt the urge to start worming around too, if only to stop Jisung, but he knew that that was hypocrisy, and it was a futile endeavor anyway. The rocks slowly crushing them were unstable. Logically, they would either keep crushing them or fall and crush them even quicker.
“HAN JISUNG, STOP IT!”
Jisung stopped. Seungmin could only hear the sound of his panting and little pebbles falling from the rubble above them now. For a heart-stopping minute, he listened for any other noise. The sound of debris shifting, the sound of metal snapping, anything. He counted the seconds, waited with baited breath.
Nothing.
He sighed in relief.
But then he heard crying. Soft, hardly audible, even in the quiet. It was coming from Jisung.
Seungmin opened his mouth to berate him for being so reckless, for putting their lives in more danger than they already are, but he paused. Jisung’s crying was so... pathetic. Like a little mouse stuck in a gluetrap. He sounded helpless. Hopeless, even.
“Hey,” Seungmin said, the anger gone from his voice, “you’re gonna be alright. I’m gonna get you out of here.”
But despite Seungmin’s reassurance, Jisung’s cries turned to sobs. Loud, miserable sobs.
Seungmin swallowed. “I know—I know you’re in a lot of pain, and you’re scared, but I need you to work with me, Jisung-ah. We can’t get out unless you work with me.” Seungmin never thought he’d see the day when he would be begging Jisung, of all people, to cooperate with him outside of any team activity. Still, he let his prejudice fade into the background, if just this once.
He might have been a stupid seventeen-year-old with an undeveloped frontal lobe, but he wasn’t going to let Jisung perish. It could have been the last time he would save anyone ever again.
Gradually, Jisung stopped crying. Silence joined them again.
“Seungmin-ah?” Jisung timidly called, his voice shaking and still wet.
“Yeah?”
“I’m scared.”
Seungmin bit his lip. It tasted like iron.
“Me, too.”
Darkness seemed to be their friend. Beside the steady drop, drop, drop of water somewhere above their heads, the darkness remained constant. Seungmin didn’t know if that meant it was still night, or if they were buried so deeply the sunlight couldn’t reach them. He didn’t know what time it was or how to tell, because the arm with his watch on it was stuck under rubble with the rest of his torso.
It felt like it had been hours.
Jisung wouldn’t say anything but the occasional groan or whimper, which both bothered Seungmin and put him at ease, ironically. He couldn’t stand the noise, but it comforted him to know that he wasn't the only soul down here, and that Jiusng was still alive, however hurting.
A sick part of him wished Changbin was there instead. He would have been able to lift all this crushing weight on Seungmin’s back. He wouldn’t whine or cry—he would probably try to make Seungmin laugh. But Changbin wasn’t here. No, instead Seungmin was stuck with the one person whose powers had absolutely no effect in this situation.
What could Jisung do? Turn invisible and spook the rocks off? Please. At least the others would have the wits to stay calm and rational even if their powers weren’t exactly helpful.
But Jisung was… well, Jisung.
Seungmin wasn’t any better, of course, but at least he was trying to be optimistic about the whole thing.
“Seungmin-ah.”
“What?”
“I don’t think Minho-hyung’s coming.”
Seungmin tried to peer through the darkness to see him. To see what kind of expression marred his face. Seungmin thought of hopelessness and despair.
“Don’t say that. He’s coming. We just need to wait a little longer.”
The silence on Jisung’s end was overwhelming.
Seungmin just sighed.
“You know, Chan says patience is a hero’s greatest virtue. Maybe you should actually apply his advice for once,” Seungmin said. He couldn’t help it, the jab just slipped from his tongue. He had been holding back for the past hour(?) and he couldn’t take it any longer.
“How’d you get into the team, anyway? I mean, I’m genuinely curious.” Jisung was quiet. Seungmin huffed. “Since we’re stuck down here, you might as well tell me. C’mon.”
And again, silence.
“Fine, don’t tell me. Whatever. See if I care.” Seungmin sucked his teeth and tried squinting into the darkness again. His eyes had adjusted, but it was still hard to tell where Jisung was amid all the mess. He imagined he was right across from him, jutting his lip out or glaring. Or both. “You know, you are the biggest baby I have ever met. You sulk over the littlest things. I’m just asking you a question. Well, you're awfully quiet for a guy who was in so much pain earlier. Really, awfully… quiet…”
Seungmin paused again, but this time he listened. Really listened. There was no moaning or groaning or any pathetic sound of any kind. And when he really strained his ears, he couldn't hear the sound of breathing, either.
“Jisung?” he called out, praying that what he was thinking wasn't true.
His voice echoed, and echoed, and echoed.
“JISUNG!”
No reply.
“HAN JISUNG, ANSWER ME RIGHT NOW!”
Nothing.
Seungmin didn’t know how he managed it. He didn’t really think about the risks, even though he had just scolded Jisung for it earlier, and he didn’t really weigh the possibility that doing it might kill him. All he could think about was Jisung, getting to Jisung, making sure Jisung is alive, and oh, he better be alive, because Seungmin could not make it out of there without him.
Jisung may be a royal pain, but he’s still Seungmin’s teammate.
Seungmin shrieked as he wrenched his arm from the rubble, his shoulder popping out first as flesh ripped across rock, and his forearm following not long after. It burned, it burned, it burned. Without the support, the rubble on top of him began to lean precariously sideways, and then it toppled. Seungmin braced himself as much as he could, but one of the rocks landed on his head anyway.
It hurt about as much as you would expect—like someone had just punted his skull for fun. The rock disintegrated. A wail tore itself from his throat. But he couldn’t dwell on the pain, because everything hurt and the dwelling would take too long. Instead, he kept going, wiggling and squirming like a shriveled worm on a hot, concrete sidewalk. He used his arms, though he screamed at him to stop, to pull himself out. Debris went with him. Dust and rock and metal and wire. Miraculously, none of it dropped on him except for a stray boulder or two, which he was able to push off without pausing his endeavor. And he didn’t pause until his back felt lighter and his legs were free.
But he couldn’t let himself rest.
As fast as he possibly could without crumpling in agony, Seungmin grabbed onto a nearby pile of ceiling and raised himself up. He could feel the blood running in rivulets down his arm and back, mingling with the sweat beading on his skin, but he chose to ignore it. His ankle was in complete shambles, but at least he could hobble on the other.
With excruciating steps, he limped over to where he thought Jisung was. The lump on the floor underneath that slab of concrete couldn’t be anything else, could it? Seungmin had to take a brief rest before he could push the rubble off, but he gave himself a mental pat on the back for even getting five feet.
The rocks came off one by one, and then all at once, because Seungmin accidentally went too fast. He cringed as he watched them crumble and fall to the side, hoping he hadn’t made any of Jisung’s injuries worse. Even so, Jisung gave no indication. He just lay there, motionless. Like a corpse.
Seungmin pressed two fingers to his neck just to check.
His pulse was faint, but it was still there.
Wasting no time, Seungmin slipped a hand under Jisung’s armpit—careful of Jisung’s probably-most-definitely-broken arm swinging at his side—and hauled him up. He staggered under the added weight and breathed in sharply through his nose.
Jisung groaned. That was a good sign.
“Sorry,” Seungmin muttered, slinging Jisung’s arm around his shoulder. “This is going to be painful for both of us.”
The walk was torture.
There could not be another word more appropriate for how it felt. Seungmin’s ankle was on white-hot fire and his shoulder was growing achingly numb. Every step he took was like walking on hot coals, but the coals just kept getting hotter and hotter.
Seungmin had found a small hole between the two spots where he and Jisung had been originally trapped, which led out to what he believed was the path his team had been trailing before the collapse.
He kept his eyes peeled for any sign of Minho, but it was hard to really focus when he had another person hanging off of his shoulder. He wasn’t blaming Jisung. It was just how the cards fell. Seungmin had to make sure the other boy got out safely; that was his number one priority. He eased the part of his mind that cried at him to stop and search the rubble for his Minho-hyung by telling himself that he was probably already ahead of them. Besides, there was still hardly any light down within the depths of the rubble. Finding Minho down here would be like trying to find a needle within a haystack.
Jisung shuddered against him. His skin was cold and clammy. Their suits were still soaked with what Seungmin had discovered was old rainwater and machine lubricant, but Jisung was also experiencing bloodloss, which Seungmin had yet to actually find the source of. All he could do was continue to give Jisung his own heat, and, recklessly, his healing power.
In any other circumstance, Seungmin wouldn’t have done it. He was injured, too. Healing anyone in his state would come at a great cost. His instructors had warned him time and time again: don’t heal other people when you’re hurt. But Jisung was on the brink of death, and Seungmin’s hands were tied. He had no choice. He had to heal him.
The process was slow and arduous. Because Seungmin barely had any strength left in his body, he had to draw from his own stored fat to create energy and then siphon it out to give to Jisung. Skin-to-skin contact helped, but theirs wasn’t really enough to speed up the process. (Seungmin wasn’t about to rip Jisung’s suit off and drag him butt-naked through the rubble, though, so it would have to do for now.) Anyway, he still had to make sure he could stand up right and walk.
And on top of all of that, Seungmin also had to keep Jisung awake.
“Stay with me, Ji,” Seungmin murmured, when he felt Jisung’s head lolling again. Jisung’s eyes would flutter, then shut, then open slightly again. The pattern was not comforting. If Seungmin was correct in his diagnosis, Jisung probably had a concussion.
He would be shocked if he didn’t have one, too.
But Seungmin was strong. He had to be. He was a hero. He was a hero, and he was going to get Jisung out, even if it killed him. That was the mantra that he repeated inside his head just to push him through all the tremendous pain his body was physically under.
“Hey, tell me about... tell me about something,” Seungmin panted. He was going to have muscles like Changbin after all of this was over.
Jisung opened and closed his eyes for a second, and then responded, “Ab’wha?”
“Anything.”
Jisung thought. Or, at least, he looked like he was thinking. His eyes stayed open, even though they were little slits, and that made Seungmin feel slightly better. If he could just keep Jisung like this, then maybe everything would be okay.
“I used’ta... want to be a singer.”
Out of all the things he could have said, that was the least likely thing Seungmin had expected.
“You don’t strike me... as the singing type.”
“Ga’a goo’ voice,” Jisung slurred.
A smile ghosted over Seungmin’s lips. “Yeah? I like singing, too.”
Jisung seemed to perk up. It was subtle, barely noticeable if Seungmin was anyone else. Just a sparkle in his eyes. But when Jisung looked up at Seungmin, it was obvious. “Really?”
“Really. Maybe...” Seungmin couldn’t believe what he was thinking. It was so out of left field for him. Maybe he was experiencing blood loss, too. “We could do karaoke sometime... if you want? I’ll let you listen... if you don’t want to sing.”
Jisung hummed.
For some reason, it made Seungmin feel a little less horrible.
After a few more minutes, he finally decided it was time for a break. If he kept walking he wasn’t sure if either of them would actually find a way out or if he would end up collapsing before that. He slowed his walk and gingerly leaned them both against a smooth, cool wall the ceiling hadn’t punctured. “I need... I need to rest here. Just a second, okay, Hannie?” Seungmin whispered, his breath still ragged.
Jisung was as limp as a ragdoll, allowing Seungmin to position him awkwardly between his side and the wall. They could only stay there a few seconds, at most a minute, before they needed to move again, so there was no use sitting down.
“Seungminnie... I’m tired.”
Seungmin looked back at Jisung and frowned. Blood was smeared against Jisung’s cheek, but Seungmin couldn’t tell if it was his or not. Jisung’s curls were plastered against his skin with sweat. His eyes were shut, screwed up in pain.
“You’re okay, Jisung-ah.”
“N—No... No, I can’t. I can't go...”
Seungmin gently shook his head. With shaking hands, he brought Jisung’s head to rest against his shoulder. “I’m sorry, but you have to.”
“I wan’ Minho... hyung.”
“I know.”
“Gotta leave... Can’t... But I...”
Jisung was just whimpering nonsense at this point. Seungmin couldn’t blame him. He wished he could just slump over and do the same.
But he had a Jisung to save.
“I’m not the strongest,” Seungmin said, swallowing his resolve, “but I’m going to get you out of here.”
He wiped his tear-stained cheeks with the back of his free hand. He didn’t know when he had started to cry. Maybe it was way back when he pulled himself out of the rubble. Maybe it began when Jisung said he wanted to be a singer. Either way, the tears hadn't stopped. “I’m gonna carry you. I’ll keep carrying you until you’re ready to walk on your own, okay, Sung-ah?”
Jisung whined.
And so they continued the walk.
Seungmin could taste his bruises. Was that weird? He knew he had some internal bleeding. His ribs smarted when he tried to twist at the waist and raising his arms above his shoulders was currently impossible. But the blood lingered in the back of his throat. It was sore. Everything was. His throat, his ribs, his arms. But he could taste the bruises on his ribs specifically, and he didn’t know if that was normal or not.
He smacked his lips. They were as dry as dust. One foot after another, he and Jisung had slowed into a painful stagger. Jisung had closed his eyes, and Seungmin allowed it. He wanted to close his eyes, too. But he kept them open so he could see where they were going, even if it was just one foot after the other.
Seungmin-ah!
He was hearing voices now. They were distant, and sounded vaguely familiar, but he knew they weren’t real. His mind was trying to trick him into falling for it, so he could finally stop and rest. But stopping and resting meant death, not just for himself, but for Jisung. And he would never allow that. So he ignored the voices and kept on.
Jisung-ah!
Seungmin-ah!
Say something!
Say something!
SAY SOMETHING!
Okay, now they were just being annoying. Seungmin was trying to focus—couldn’t they understand that?
Seungmin-ah, over here! Please!
Seungmin scoffed. If they wanted to imitate his Chan-hyung, they were doing a poor job at it. Chan sounded much stronger than that. More sure. Less scared. They should have done their research.
“SEUNGMIN, LISTEN TO ME!”
Seungmin’s foot caught on a rock. He barely caught himself from falling face-first into the cold, hard ground, but... Jisung was less lucky. He tumbled out of Seungmin’s arms ungracefully and landed with a grunt onto the floor.
There was a sharp intake of breath.
Seungmin turned.
Through the darkness, in a hole in the wall, his eyes met Chan’s.
He was really losing it, wasn’t he?
“Seungmin-ah, oh thank goodness,” Chan breathed, his face crumpling in relief. Tears were silently streaming down his cheeks, too. “Here, come here. Hyung’s here. Bring Jisung with you, Seungminnie.”
Seungmin did as he was told. He couldn’t do much else. He lifted Jisung’s arm and dragged him over to the hole in the wall, where Chan’s hands grasped for the two desperately.
Was this real?
Seungmin wasn’t sure, even when he got closer. Chan was exactly as he was when they had parted, except his hair was a frizzy mess and his suit looked like it had seen battle.
“I’m so glad to see you,” Chan muttered. His eyes softened as they took in Jisung’s miserable form. “Here, there’s an exit this way. Let's get him out.”
Chan took Jisung’s slack body and delicately pulled him through the hole, first with his head, and then with the rest of him. He murmured sweet nothings that neither Jisung nor Seungmin could understand. Seungmin heard other voices, too, but could only see Chan’s face. Perhaps he was just imagining them.
“How come.... you’re here, hyungie?” Seungmin asked, watching it all through a haze. He wanted to ask him how he managed to find them. If Minho was with him. If he was okay. If they would be okay. But all his questions sat upon his tongue, too heavy to let go of.
Chan didn’t stop his motions. Jisung’s foot was caught on something jutting out of the wall. But a quick glance up from Jisung, and Chan’s furrowed brow became wide-eyed shock.
“Seungmin-ah, you’re... hurt.”
Seungmi could have told him that.
Chan shook off his shock. He turned around and said something, as though he were speaking to someone else, and then turned back to Seungmin with a shaky, distressed smile. “Okay, that’s okay. We’re gonna get you both out, okay? Just stay there, Seungmin-ah, I’ll get you after I’m done with Hannie.”
“You got him?”
“Yeah, hyung’s got him. You can let go now, Seungminnie.”
Seungmin did not need to be told twice. He helped Chan shove Jisung the rest of the way through the hole and then release his vice-like grip on the boy. His palms were coated in a thick layer of blood. Looking at them made him want to vomit.
But he was exhausted. So, so exhausted. Even upchucking his lunch sounded like too much work. He just wanted to rest for a million years.
And so, naturally, that’s what Kim Seungmin did.
“Gonna... Gonna lay down, now,” he said, before his legs gave out, and the last thing he heard before closing his eyes was Chan frantically calling his name.