Archive of Our Own

It was the first full moon to rise above Ellora since Jae had joined the White Lotus. He hadn’t thought much of it at first, nor had he considered it particularly significant. The moon came and went as it always had, and there were far more pressing things to occupy his mind. Daemin, however, had other plans. He had mentioned wanting to try something, though he had been frustratingly vague about the details.

Ever since Jae had learned of Daemin’s involvement with the White Lotus, the two had found themselves discussing all manner of things, from bending techniques to the organization’s more closely guarded knowledge. Their conversations often led to unexpected discoveries, and what Daemin had proposed this time sounded, at least on the surface, like another training exercise. Naturally, Jae had agreed to meet him.

Daemin had instructed Jae to sneak out that night and meet him at the White Lotus Temple.

Getting out of Datu’s room, however, had proved a little more difficult than Jae had anticipated. His beautiful slob of a boyfriend was a remarkably heavy sleeper, especially after a long day of physical exertion and worrying himself into exhaustion. Jae had spent several agonizing minutes carefully extricating himself from the room, holding his breath at every creak of the floorboards and movement from the bed, before finally managing to slip away unnoticed.

Thankfully, Datu remained blissfully asleep.

With that small victory behind him, Jae soon found himself standing inside the temple. He stepped cautiously into the chamber, his footsteps echoing against the ancient stone as he ventured farther into the cavernous interior.

“Daemin? You here?”

His eyes wandered across the enormous cavern, taking in the ancient stonework that surrounded him. Massive, intricately carved support columns rose from the cavern floor, their surfaces worn by time, while great structural arches stretched overhead and blended seamlessly into the natural rock walls. The entire chamber was illuminated by an eerie, phosphorescent green glow emanating from clusters of large, jagged crystals. They protruded from the ground and the stone pillars alike, casting strange shadows across the architecture. Beneath them, pools and narrow channels of luminous green water wound throughout the temple, their surfaces shimmering beneath the unnatural light.

The place was beautiful in a way that made Jae distinctly uncomfortable. There was something almost otherworldly about it, as though he had stepped into a place that had been forgotten by the rest of the world.

He took another step forward.

“Hellooo? You dragged me all the way down here, so you could at least—”

“Boo!”

A voice suddenly erupted from behind him.

Before Jae could even turn around, a splash of cold, glowing green water struck him squarely across the back.

Jae stood frozen for a moment, water dripping from his hair and running down the back of his clothes. Slowly, he turned his head. Of course.

Daemin stood a short distance away, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Ha, man…”

Jae closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose, fighting the immediate urge to say something he might regret.

“Very funny, Daemin,” he muttered, shaking himself off like a dog that had just climbed out of a lake. “Really. Hilarious.”

His companion only grinned.

Fortunately, Jae couldn’t stay irritated with him for very long. With a casual motion of his hand, Daemin bent the water away from Jae’s clothes, lifting the droplets into the air before guiding them back toward the nearest pool. The last of the water slid from Jae’s shoulders, leaving him considerably less miserable than he had been a moment earlier.

“Sorry,” Daemin said, though the lingering amusement in his voice did little to make the apology convincing. “I’ve been waiting here for a while.”

“Clearly,” Jae replied, brushing a damp strand of hair away from his forehead. He glanced around the cavern once more before returning his attention to Daemin. “So, what exactly do you need me for? And why are we meeting in this place, in the middle of the night?”

For the first time since Jae had arrived, Daemin’s expression began to change.

The grin faded, replaced by something more thoughtful. He looked toward the glowing water, watching its surface ripple gently beneath the green light. For a moment, he seemed to be considering how best to explain himself.

“Well…” he began, hesitating. “There’s something I’ve been studying.”

Jae raised an eyebrow. “Something you’ve been studying?”

“Yeah. I found some references to it in Karthik’s old-world books. It’s a technique that supposedly dates back to the time of Avatar Korra.”

At that, Jae’s expression shifted. He went still for a moment, processing the words, before giving a slow nod.

He was beginning to grow accustomed to these conversations. In the streets of Ellora, certain subjects were approached with deliberate caution, and even speaking the name of that Avatar could make people uneasy. The old world was full of knowledge that had been lost, forbidden, or deliberately suppressed, its history obscured by generations of silence. Yet the White Lotus seemed particularly interested in preserving the very teachings that others would rather see forgotten, regardless of how dangerous or controversial they might be.

Still, the mention of Avatar Korra’s era was enough to pique his curiosity.

“Okay,” Jae said, folding his arms. “So, what is it? Does it have something to do with airbending? Is that why you need me here?”

Daemin shook his head. “No.”

“No?…” Jae blinked.

Daemin looked back at him, his expression growing more solemn. For a moment, he seemed to reconsider what he was about to do, weighing his words carefully before finally speaking.

“Not exactly...” He hesitated, then nodded to himself. “Jae, I need you to trust me. Whatever happens, I need you to hear me out first.”

Before Jae could respond, Daemin reached for his belongings and drew a knife.

Jae immediately stiffened, a shudder running through him.

“Ah, uh… you want to learn hand-to-hand combat? Why didn't you just lead with that?” He let out a nervous breath, pressing a hand against his chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack...”

Daemin stared at him for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

“No, Jae. That's not what I meant.”

His grip on the knife tightened slightly. He glanced toward the glowing green water winding through the cavern, its surface reflecting the pale light of the crystals above. When he spoke again, the amusement that had characterized their earlier conversation was entirely absent.

“The bending technique I've been studying is called bloodbending.”

Jae’s eyes widened. “Bending… blood?” he repeated, taking an involuntary step backward. “Who even comes up with something like that?”

“We don’t know much about it,” Daemin admitted, his tone unusually solemn. “But apparently, there are records of it being outlawed in Republic City, back when it was home to Avatar Korra. Karthik’s books mention it briefly, but there’s nothing explaining exactly how it works or how someone learns to do it.” He paused, looking down at the knife in his hand before glancing back at Jae. “I thought it was worth investigating.”

Jae could only stare.

“Look… I know how it sounds. I know it's forbidden, and I'm not going to make you do anything you're uncomfortable with. If you want to stop at any point, we stop. No arguments.”

Jae continued staring at him, trying to reconcile the Daemin he knew with the person standing before him, casually proposing that they experiment with one of the most disturbing bending techniques imaginable.

Daemin offered him an awkward smile.

“And, hey, if it makes you feel any better, we could always try that suffocation technique Karthik uses on me afterward!” he added, attempting to lighten the mood. “You know, for the sake of research.”

Jae closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Daemin waited a moment before adding, a little more tentatively, “Besides, it's all for the girls, right?…”

It took him a long time to absorb everything Daemin had told him. Bloodbending. A technique powerful enough to have been outlawed in Republic City, yet obscure enough that even the surviving records offered little insight into its practice. He couldn't pretend the idea didn't unsettle him. There was something deeply disturbing about the thought of using one's bending to manipulate another person's body in such a direct and invasive way.

But he was a member of the White Lotus now.

He was beginning to understand that their responsibilities extended far beyond the preservation of knowledge or the peaceful teachings Jae had always been trained to uphold. The White Lotus existed to protect the Avatar, and sometimes that duty demanded an understanding of things that others considered too dangerous, too immoral, or too terrible to study…

Bloodbending had likely been forbidden for good reason. Its potential for harm was obvious, and the very nature of the technique seemed to violate everything Jae had been taught about the responsible use of bending.

Yet the world wasn't always kind enough to let good people fight fair.

If the White Lotus was expected to protect the Avatar by any means necessary, then perhaps understanding such a technique was part of that responsibility, however uncomfortable the prospect might be.

Jae finally looked back at Daemin. “...Agreed,” he said reluctantly. “But I'm holding you to that promise. If I want to stop, we stop.”

“Of course.” Daemin nodded, with the most seriousness Jae had ever seen on him.

Jae glanced between Daemin's hands, trying to put his unease aside long enough to focus on the task ahead. “Then, what have you managed to figure out so far?”

Daemin's expression grew thoughtful. He looked down at one of his hands, turning it over as though searching for something invisible beneath his skin.

“Well, I've been experimenting.”

“Experimenting how?”

“Trying to get it to work.”

Jae waited for him to elaborate.

Daemin raised his other hand, positioning it a short distance above the first. For a moment, nothing happened. Then his fingers twitched.

His arm began to rise.

It was a small movement at first, barely noticeable, but it quickly became apparent that Daemin wasn't moving it of his own accord. His wrist lifted, followed by his forearm, as though an invisible force were pulling it upward against his will.

A strained grunt escaped his throat.

Jae immediately straightened, his amusement disappearing.

“What are you doing?” he muttered, instinctively shifting into a defensive stance.

“I'm...” Daemin struggled to speak, his face tightening with concentration. “I'm bending the blood in my arm.”

Jae stared at him.

Daemin's arm continued to rise, his muscles visibly straining as he fought to maintain control over the movement. His breathing grew uneven, and his expression twisted with the effort of sustaining whatever it was he had managed to accomplish.

“I've been trying to do this for months,” he continued through gritted teeth. “Whenever I could find time alone, I'd practice. Over and over again.”

Jae watched in stunned silence.

“Months?” he repeated.

Daemin nodded as best he could without losing his concentration.

“But I've only ever managed to get it to work under certain conditions. About once every thirty days, give or take.” He let out another strained breath. “And always at night.”

His eyes flicked toward the cavern's entrance, beyond which the full moon hung somewhere above Ellora.

“That's why I wanted to meet tonight,” he explained. “I started noticing a pattern. Every time I managed to do it, the moon was full.”

Jae slowly turned his gaze toward the darkness beyond the cavern, as though he might somehow see the moon through the layers of stone separating them from the surface.

He had heard of the connection between the moon and waterbending, but hearing about it was one thing. Standing in an ancient temple while his friend attempted to manipulate the blood flowing through his own body was another entirely.

Daemin’s arm suddenly dropped, falling limply to his side as the strain finally left him. He staggered slightly, his balance faltering beneath him, but managed to catch himself before he could fall. For a moment, he remained standing, trying to steady his breathing. Then he bent forward, bracing his hands against his knees as he struggled to recover.

For several seconds, neither of them spoke. The only sounds that filled the cavern were Daemin’s labored breathing and the faint, steady trickle of glowing water winding through the ancient stone.

Jae watched him with growing concern before finally stepping forward.

“Goodness, Daemin...” He moved to his side, allowing his friend to lean against him for support. “Are you all right? And does Karthik know about any of this?”

Daemin shook his head, still catching his breath.

“Not yet.” He paused, swallowing before continuing. “Not that I think he’d particularly care, but I wanted to practice alone first. You know, figure out what I was doing before I started involving anyone else.”

Jae frowned but said nothing. He adjusted his hold on Daemin, making sure he was steady before glancing down at his arm.

That was when Daemin began rolling up his sleeve.

Beneath the fabric were several thin, healed cuts, their marks still visible against his skin.

Jae's eyes widened in immediate horror.

“Oh, my Seven Havens, Daemin!” He straightened, staring at the marks in disbelief. “What did you do to yourself?!”

Daemin glanced down at his arm, then back at Jae. To Jae's further dismay, he gave a small, almost sheepish chuckle.

“Well, I had to make sure it was actually blood in some way,” he explained, as though that were a perfectly reasonable thing to do. “And, honestly, it's easier to manipulate when it’s outside the body.”

Jae stared at him.

For a moment, he genuinely couldn't find the words.

Then his expression fell, the initial shock giving way to something much quieter and more painful. He looked at the healed cuts again, his brows drawing together as he struggled to comprehend how long Daemin must have been experimenting on his own, without anyone knowing what he was doing or how far he had gone.

He hated seeing people hurt. He always had. It didn't matter whether the injuries were serious or superficial, whether they were accidental or self-inflicted in the pursuit of some greater purpose. The sight of someone suffering had always been enough to leave a heaviness in his chest that he could never quite shake.

And Daemin…

Daemin was a good man. A genuinely good man. He could be reckless, stubborn, and occasionally so consumed by his curiosity that he seemed to forget his own limits, but Jae had never doubted the sincerity of his intentions. Even now, standing in the dimly lit cavern with the remnants of his experiments hidden beneath his sleeves, Daemin wasn't pursuing this knowledge for his own benefit alone. There was a greater purpose behind it, one that Jae understood all too well.

“This is why I wanted to speak to you,” Daemin finally said.

His voice had grown quieter, the earlier playfulness giving way to a more serious apprehension. He straightened, drawing a slow breath before continuing.

“I... I want to try manipulating someone else's body.”

Jae's eyes widened.

For a moment, he could only stare at him, the weight of Daemin's words settling over him. There was a considerable difference between experimenting on oneself and attempting to bend another person's blood. Whatever reservations Jae had held before, the prospect of becoming the subject of such an experiment made the situation feel suddenly, uncomfortably real.

Daemin seemed to recognize the hesitation on his face. After gathering enough strength to stand upright on his own, he carefully stepped away from Jae, giving him some room.

“Listen, you don't have to agree to this,” he assured him. “I mean it. I won't hold it against you if you don't want to participate. As far as I know, I'm the only person around our age in the White Lotus who's been looking into this, and I'm perfectly capable of continuing my training alone.”

He paused, offering Jae a small, reassuring smile.

“I'd rather you say no than feel like you have to do something you're uncomfortable with.”

Jae lowered his gaze.

He thought about the girls and the responsibilities that came with being part of the White Lotus. He thought about the things they might one day face, the threats they might encounter, and the lengths to which their enemies might be willing to go. He didn't like the idea of bloodbending. He wasn't sure he ever would. But if understanding the technique meant they might be better prepared to protect the people who depended on them, then perhaps it was something worth considering.

“I...” Jae hesitated, swallowing his apprehension. “I'll do it.”

Daemin blinked.

“Really?”

There was genuine surprise in his voice, as though he had prepared himself for a refusal and hadn't quite anticipated Jae agreeing so readily.

Jae gave a small, uncertain nod.

“...For the girls, right?” he said, attempting to convince himself as much as Daemin. “If someone ever tries to attack them during a full moon, and knowing this technique could help us protect them, then... it's worth understanding, at least.” He glanced toward Daemin. “Besides, you're a much more experienced White Lotus member than I am. If anyone's going to figure out how this works, I trust you.”

Daemin regarded him for a moment, his expression softening with gratitude.

“Jae, man, you really don't have to—”

“I said I'll do it.” Jae raised a hand, cutting him off before he could change his mind. “Just... don't make me regret it, okay?”

A faint, nervous smile crossed Daemin's face.

“I'll do my best.”

Jae let out a quiet sigh, then turned. He took several measured steps backward until he stood within the blue training circle etched into the cavern floor. The luminous crystals cast shifting shadows across his clothes, lending the folds of his sleeves a faint green sheen. He settled his feet and looked back at Daemin, his hands hanging uncertainly at his sides. “All right,” he said. “What do I have to do?”

“Just stand there.” Daemin approached the edge of the circle, then stopped, studying the distance between them. He adjusted his stance twice before raising one hand. There was none of his usual ease in the movement; even the placement of his fingers seemed to require consideration. Jae watched him glance from his hand to Jae’s shoulder, then down to his wrist. “And try to relax.”

Jae softened his shoulders. “Like this?” Daemin nodded, though he didn’t look entirely certain. For several seconds, nothing happened. Water murmured through the channels bordering the floor, and somewhere behind them, a drop fell from an overhanging ledge. Jae began to wonder whether he ought to say something encouraging.

Then his wrist turned.

It was a small movement, so slight that at first he thought he had done it himself. His palm shifted away from his thigh, opening toward the ceiling, and his fingers loosened with a slow, uneven hesitation. He felt the movement without feeling the decision that should have come before it. Something drew taut inside his forearm, too deep for him to locate, and his hand continued turning.

“Oh,” Jae whispered.

Daemin lowered his hand immediately. The sensation disappeared, leaving Jae’s arm to settle against his side. For a moment, Jae kept looking at it. He curled his fingers into his palm, then opened them again, reassured by the familiar little effort of doing so.

“Did that hurt?” Daemin asked. He had already taken a step toward him.

“No.” Jae looked up, careful not to let his surprise sound like accusation. “No, it didn’t hurt. I just wasn’t expecting it to feel like that.” He touched his wrist with his other hand, pressing his thumb lightly against the place where the movement seemed to have begun. There was nothing unusual beneath the skin. “Were you trying to turn my hand?”

Daemin glanced at his own fingers. “I was trying to lift your arm.”

Jae looked down again. That was less reassuring, though Daemin’s expression made him reluctant to say so too quickly. His friend was watching him with an attention that had become almost uncomfortable, searching his face for something Jae hadn’t yet found words to describe. “It felt like you caught something here,” Jae said, tracing a short line along the inside of his forearm. “And the rest of my hand followed.”

“Caught something,” Daemin repeated quietly. He flexed his fingers, trying to remember the shape they had held. “I couldn’t tell how much I was moving.”

“Only a little.”

“I couldn’t tell that, either.”

Jae let his hand fall. Daemin’s admission settled between them, more sobering than the movement itself. They had both been looking at the same arm, but apparently that was where their shared understanding ended. Jae had felt something Daemin could not feel, Daemin had reached for something Jae could not see.

“We can stop,” Daemin said.

Jae considered it. He was uneasy, but not hurt, and beneath the uneasiness was a curiosity he suspected Daemin recognized. “Once more,” he said. “But tell me what you’re going to try before you do it.”

Daemin nodded and returned to his place. This time, he watched Jae’s arm for a while before raising his hand. “I’m going to lift it,” he said. “Only a little. No higher than your waist.” Jae nodded in answer, then made himself release the tension gathering in his shoulder. It was harder now. His body seemed to have learned something from the first attempt and was quietly resisting the second.

The pressure returned near his wrist, faint at first, then gathering with a peculiar, inward firmness. Jae’s fingers stirred. His hand lifted away from his thigh, and he felt the weight of his arm shift before his elbow followed. Nothing pressed against his skin. There was no hand beneath his wrist, no support under his forearm, yet something held him with enough certainty that he knew, before trying, that lowering his arm would not be entirely up to him.

His elbow bent too sharply.

Daemin’s brow tightened. “Was that you?”

Jae looked at him. “No.”

Daemin changed the angle of his hand. The pressure tightened in response, and Jae’s wrist gave a sudden, awkward jerk. His breath caught. “Wait,” he said, and Daemin went still.

The movement stopped, but the hold remained. Jae’s arm hung between them at an uncomfortable angle, his fingers half-curled. He could feel the strain beginning at his shoulder. Instinctively, he tried to lower it, and the effort met something that did not give. For one brief moment, he became sharply aware of his own body as a thing someone else was holding.

“Let go,” he said, more quietly.

Daemin released him at once. Jae’s arm dropped, and he caught it against his stomach. Daemin stepped forward, then stopped just outside the circle, his hands suspended uselessly in front of him. “I thought you meant stop moving,” he said. “I didn’t know you meant—”

“It’s all right.” Jae rubbed his forearm, waiting for the strange lingering sensation to fade. “But if I say wait, let go completely. We can work out the rest afterward.”

“Yes.” Daemin lowered his hands. “Yes, all right.”

Jae gave him a small nod. He could see how badly Daemin wanted to ask whether he had hurt him, and how frightened he was of hearing a different answer this time. “It startled me,” Jae explained. “That’s all. I tried to move, and I couldn’t.” He paused, searching for a gentler way to say the next part without making it less true. “I don’t think I liked that very much.”

Daemin looked down at the blue line around Jae’s feet. “We should stop.”

“For a moment,” Jae agreed. He stepped out of the circle and sat on its low stone border. His arm felt ordinary again, which was almost confusing. He had expected some trace of what had happened… a soreness, perhaps, or a patch of skin that felt different beneath his fingers. Instead, there was only his sleeve, a little twisted at the elbow.

Daemin crouched in front of him. “Can I see?” he asked, then hesitated when Jae looked up. “Your arm. Just with my hands.”

The distinction brought a faint smile to Jae’s face. He offered his wrist, and Daemin took it carefully, supporting it from beneath. His other hand settled near Jae’s elbow. The contact was warm and comprehensible. When Daemin turned his arm toward the crystal light, Jae could feel exactly where the pressure came from and how easily he could pull away.

“Was it here?” Daemin asked.

“A little higher.” Jae guided his fingers with his free hand. “There, I think. Though it’s difficult to tell.”

Daemin’s thumb rested against the inside of his wrist. Beneath it, Jae’s pulse beat steadily. Daemin grew still, and Jae found himself watching his face rather than his hands…

“Is that what you were following?” Jae asked.

“Not exactly.” Daemin frowned. “I could feel something moving, but whenever I tried to concentrate on one place, I lost track of the rest.” His fingers shifted slightly beneath Jae’s wrist. “With water, I can see what happens when I pull too hard.”

“You can look at me,” Jae said.

Daemin raised his eyes.

“I’ll tell you,” Jae continued. “But you have to leave room for me to tell you.”

Daemin nodded, then released his arm. Jae let it rest in his lap for a while. Neither seemed eager to be the first to move. Beyond Daemin’s shoulder, the pool lay smooth beneath the green light, undisturbed by everything they had been doing beside it.

Eventually, Jae lifted his hand. “Could you try something smaller?”

Daemin’s gaze returned to him. “How small?”

“One finger.” Jae held out his forefinger, then glanced at it with an uncertain little smile. “Would that be easier?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then we’ll find out. And if it isn’t, that can be enough for tonight.”

They remained beside the circle this time. Jae rested his elbow on his knee and held his hand between them, where both could see it clearly. Daemin moved closer, close enough that Jae could hear the careful breath he took before raising his hand. He did not begin immediately. First, he asked which finger, then how far, and Jae answered each question, grateful for the plainness of them.

The first attempt bent the wrong finger.

Daemin released him so quickly that Jae barely had time to register the small tug in his middle knuckle. They looked at his hand, then at each other, and a nervous laugh escaped Jae. Daemin smiled in answer, though it faded as he studied the hand again. “I thought I had it,” he murmured.

“I know. Try once more.”

The second time took longer. Jae watched Daemin’s fingers make a minute adjustment, then another. For several breaths, he felt nothing. Then a delicate pressure gathered along his forefinger, so narrowly placed that the rest of his hand seemed unusually loose around it. His fingertip dipped. The movement was scarcely larger than a tremor, but neither of them mistook it.

“There?” Daemin asked.

“Yes.” Jae’s voice had grown quiet. He watched his finger remain bent, held in that slight, unnatural curve. Daemin was close enough to touch him but did not, the space between their hands stayed empty. “Now let go.”

The pressure gradually eased, and Jae felt the tension leave his hand. He carefully straightened his finger before curling it again, testing the movement for himself. This time, it responded exactly as he intended. Across from him, Daemin slowly lowered his hand into his lap, his shoulders sagging with exhaustion.

For a little while, neither of them spoke. They sat in silence, their attention fixed on the same spot between them, as though each were trying to make sense of what had just happened.

“That’s enough,” Jae said at last.

Daemin nodded without protest.

Jae glanced down at his hand, flexing his fingers a few times before looking back at his friend. He felt a little guilty about ending the session so soon, especially after everything Daemin had explained. If his suspicions were correct, they might have another thirty days or so before the conditions were right to attempt this again. It seemed a shame to waste the opportunity when they had already come so far.

But there was only so much Jae could bring himself to tolerate, and he had no intention of pushing himself beyond that point merely because the next full moon was weeks away.

Besides, he wasn't entirely convinced he wanted to experience that sensation again anytime soon.

Daemin seemed to understand. He offered Jae a tired smile before leaning back slightly.

“Better get back to Datu before he starts worrying that something's up,” he remarked, a small chuckle escaping him.

Jae let out a weary sigh.

“Oh, I'm sure he's already starting to suspect something.” He rubbed his forehead. “Knowing him, he'll probably have an entire investigation planned by the time I get back.”

Daemin laughed quietly, though his expression soon softened.

“Just remember why we're doing this, okay? It's for the girls. When this world is finally saved again, everyone will understand why we had to learn things like this.” He paused, looking down at his hands. “At least, I hope they will.”

For once, Jae had no clever response.

He understood what Daemin meant. Neither of them had any illusions about the nature of what they were studying, and neither was particularly eager to explain their decision to someone who might misunderstand their intentions. Still, they had responsibilities to fulfill, and protecting the girls remained at the heart of everything they did.

Daemin looked back up at him.

“Thank you, though. Really. For trusting me enough to help with this.” He hesitated before adding, “I hope it'll prove useful to the White Lotus someday.”

Jae regarded him for a moment before giving a small nod.

“Yeah. I hope so, too.”

He pushed himself to his feet, brushing the dust from his clothes before glancing toward the cavern's exit.

“Agreed. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

With that, Jae turned and began making his way out of the temple, his footsteps gradually fading into the darkness.

Daemin remained where he was for a little while, watching him leave. He was grateful that Jae had agreed to help, though he couldn't help feeling that they had barely scratched the surface of what bloodbending might allow them to accomplish. There was still so much he didn't understand, and the thought of waiting another month before he could properly test his findings was frustrating, to say the least.

Eventually, his gaze drifted toward the knife resting nearby.

He still had plenty of work to do.

And, for the time being, he preferred to do it alone.

…

Jae had nearly convinced himself that Datu would still be asleep by the time he returned. The thought had sustained him for most of the walk back, offering the comforting possibility that he might slip into their room unnoticed and leave the night's events unexplained until morning.

Then he saw the light beneath the door.

He stopped on the step.

It was only a thin line of warm light against the darkness, but he stood staring at it for several seconds before finally reaching for the latch. Along the way back, he had rehearsed a perfectly reasonable explanation. He hadn't been able to sleep, so he had gone out for a while. He had lost track of the hour. Nothing particularly unusual had happened.

Now, with the light waiting for him on the other side of the door, every explanation seemed suspiciously well prepared.

He opened it.

Datu sat at the table with a lamp beside him. He had put on a shirt, though he hadn't bothered fastening it properly, and his hair was flattened on one side from the pillow. He looked as though he had only recently gotten out of bed, but the moment he heard the latch, his head lifted.

His eyes settled on Jae.

Neither of them spoke.

Jae eased the door shut behind him, suddenly conscious of how late it was and how conspicuous his return must have seemed.

"I'm sorry," he said, keeping his voice low. "Did I wake you?"

"No." Datu studied him for a moment. "Where were you?"

"I went out."

"I noticed…” Datu turned his body to face Jae.

Jae lowered his eyes and began unfastening his shoes. He could feel Datu watching him, and the simple task became unexpectedly difficult beneath that attention. One of the laces had tightened into a knot, and he picked at it with his thumbnail, grateful for the excuse to keep his head down.

He wished he could have another minute before looking up.

"Jae."

His fingers stopped.

"Where did you go?"

He could hardly pretend there was no answer to that question.

"To meet Daemin," he admitted. "At the Bending Compound."

It was as close to the truth as he could get without revealing too much. Jae resisted the urge to reach up and pick at his ears again. He'd been doing it so much lately that they were practically sore. All this lying was going to get him into trouble if he wasn't careful.

Datu leaned back slightly in his chair, his eyes fixed on Jae.

"In the middle of the night?"

Jae nodded.

"What for?"

"We wanted to practice something."

The silence that followed made Jae wish he had chosen his words more carefully.

He looked down at his shoes, suddenly conscious of how he was still standing in the entryway with his hands hovering awkwardly at his sides. After a moment, he bent to work the knot loose, tugging at the laces until they finally gave way. He slipped off his shoes and placed them neatly beside the door, adjusting one until it sat perfectly parallel to the other.

There was no particular reason to arrange them so precisely. He simply needed something to do with his hands.

"When did you decide to go?" Datu asked.

Jae straightened, his gaze flickering toward him. "Earlier..."

The word came out awkwardly, trailing off before he could think of anything to add. He immediately regretted how it sounded.

Datu watched him for a moment. "Earlier? As in before we went to bed?"

"Yes."

The answer seemed to settle something between them, and not in a way Jae liked. Datu looked away, his attention shifting toward the table. He didn't say anything else, but the quiet change in his expression was enough to make Jae's chest tighten.

"I should have told you," Jae offered.

Datu's eyes returned to him. "Why didn't you?"

Jae hesitated, searching for an answer that wouldn't make the situation worse. "You were asleep."

"Earlier, Jae."

He fell silent.

There was no mistaking what Datu meant. He hadn't asked why Jae hadn't woken him before leaving. He wanted to know why Jae hadn't mentioned his plans beforehand, when they'd still been together, when there had been every opportunity to say something.

And Jae had no answer that wouldn't lead to another question.

He could hardly tell Datu that he'd been afraid of what he might say. Not when that would only invite him to ask what, exactly, there was to be afraid of. Nor could he explain that the meeting with Daemin had been something he'd needed to do alone, something he hadn't known how to talk about even before he'd left.

So he stood there, feeling the weight of Datu's attention, and tried not to look as guilty as he felt.

"I didn't think I'd be gone so long."

Datu stood. The scrape of his chair against the floor made Jae glance up, but Datu didn't approach him immediately. Instead, he remained beside the table, looking tired in a way Jae hadn't fully appreciated from the doorway.

"I woke up, and you were gone. Your shoes weren't here, and there wasn't a note." He paused, his expression tightening. "I checked outside before I realized I had no idea where to look."

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are." Datu looked at him again. "I'm asking why you didn't tell me."

Jae swallowed.

He could have told Datu that he hadn’t wanted to worry him. It would have been true, to an extent, and perhaps Datu would even have accepted it. But it wasn't the whole truth, and Jae was beginning to understand that offering only the parts of it that were easiest to explain would do little more than make him sound evasive.

He shifted his weight, rubbing his thumb against the side of his index finger.

"I thought you'd ask me not to go," he admitted.

Something changed in Datu's expression. It was subtle, a slight stillness that settled over his features, but Jae noticed it all the same.

For a moment, he wished he could take the words back. They were true, but they made it sound as though Datu were the obstacle standing between him and something he wanted, as though he had anticipated an argument and decided it would be easier to avoid it altogether. That wasn't quite how he'd thought about it. Or, at least, it wasn't how he'd wanted to think about it.

The truth was that Datu's opinion mattered to him. It mattered enough that the prospect of hearing him disagree had made Jae reluctant to bring it up at all. He simply hadn't known what to do with that reluctance, so he'd done the one thing that had spared him from having to confront it.

He'd left without telling him.

"Would you have stayed?" Datu asked.

Jae looked at him.

The question was quiet, almost painfully so. There was no accusation in it, no attempt to corner him into giving the right answer. Datu seemed to be asking because he genuinely wanted to know, and somehow that made it harder to respond.

Jae hesitated, searching himself for an answer he could offer with any confidence.

"I don't know."

Datu nodded once, slowly, then lowered his gaze to the table.

The answer settled between them, leaving Jae uncertain of what to say next. He had known Datu might be upset with him. He'd expected questions, perhaps a lecture about wandering around in the middle of the night without so much as a word. What he hadn't anticipated was how difficult it would be to stand in front of him and watch that hurt take shape in the quiet spaces between their words.

Jae shifted his weight, then crossed a little of the distance separating them.

"It wasn't because I didn't want to be here," he said.

Datu's expression barely changed. "I didn't say it was."

"I know. I just..." Jae trailed off, struggling to put the thought into words. He pressed his lips together, looking down briefly before forcing himself to meet Datu's eyes again. "I don't want you thinking that."

For a moment, Datu said nothing. Then he looked at Jae properly, and the attention made him feel strangely exposed. There was no anger in his expression that Jae could point to, nothing he could easily defend himself against. Just a quiet, unmistakable hurt that made every excuse he'd prepared on the way home feel terribly inadequate.

"Then help me understand what I'm supposed to think."

Jae's throat tightened.

The cavernous temple came back to him in a sudden, unwelcome flash: the eerie green light spilling across the stone, Daemin sitting opposite him, and the awful sensation of his arm refusing to obey him. He remembered the pressure that had settled over his body, the instinctive effort to pull away, and the moment he had realized just how little control he possessed.

He remembered Daemin's expression afterward, too.

The memory left him unsettled, and he found himself rubbing at his forearm without quite realizing what he was doing.

Datu noticed immediately.

His gaze dropped to Jae's hand, following the movement with a sharpness that made Jae stop mid-motion.

"What happened to your arm?"

"Nothing."

The answer came too quickly. Jae realized it as soon as the word left his mouth, but there was little he could do to take it back.

Datu's eyes lifted to his face. "Then why do you keep holding it?"

Jae released his forearm at once, letting his hand fall to his side. "I didn't realize I was."

It wasn't entirely a lie. He hadn't been consciously aware of the movement until Datu pointed it out. But now that his attention had been drawn to it, he became acutely conscious of the lingering sensation beneath his skin, of the memory he'd been trying not to revisit since leaving the temple.

Datu rose from his chair.

Jae instinctively straightened as he approached, watching him close the distance between them. Datu stopped just in front of him, near enough to study his face, and Jae had to resist the urge to look away.

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." This time, Jae made himself answer firmly, holding Datu's gaze despite the uneasiness gathering in his chest. "I'm not hurt."

Datu studied him for another moment.

Jae couldn't tell whether he'd been believed. Datu's expression had softened slightly, but the concern hadn't left his eyes. If anything, it had only deepened, as though Jae's insistence had given him more reason to worry rather than less.

Then Datu extended his hand between them, palm upward.

He didn't reach for Jae's arm or attempt to examine him without permission. He simply held his hand out, leaving the choice to Jae.

Jae hesitated only briefly before placing his wrist in it.

The contact was so ordinary that the relief it brought caught him off guard. Datu's fingers closed gently around his wrist, his thumb resting against his skin. Jae found himself focusing on the warmth of his hand and the slight roughness at the base of one finger, on the simple reassurance of being touched by someone whose intentions he understood.

There was no strange pressure beneath his skin, no unfamiliar force attempting to direct his movements. His arm was his own. His hand was his own.

When he looked up, Datu was watching him.

"What?" Jae asked softly.

"You tell me."

Jae's throat tightened again.

Datu loosened his hold, though he didn't withdraw his hand entirely.

"You've barely looked at me since you came in,” Datu continued.

"I'm looking at you now, Datu."

"Yes." Datu's gaze remained on his face. "And you look as though you're waiting for me to ask the wrong question."

Jae lowered his eyes.

There it was.

He had known Datu would notice something was wrong. Datu noticed when Jae left food on his plate, when a room became too crowded for him, and when something said hours earlier was still turning over in his mind. He had always been frustratingly perceptive in that regard, picking up on the smallest changes that Jae himself sometimes failed to recognize.

Jae couldn't reasonably expect that care to disappear simply because, tonight, being understood was inconvenient.

"Something happened," Datu said.

Jae said nothing.

"Did Daemin do something?"

"He didn't hurt me."

"That wasn't what I asked."

"I know."

Datu's hand went still around his.

Jae drew a breath, then another. He wanted to offer him something reassuring and complete, something Datu could take back to bed without spending the rest of the night wondering what had happened. He wanted to make this easier for him.

But every explanation he considered led to another lie, and he was beginning to run out of the energy required to maintain them.

"There are parts of tonight I can't talk about," he said at last.

Datu released his wrist.

Jae felt the loss immediately, though Datu had only let his hand fall between them.

"Can't," Datu repeated, "or don't want to?"

Jae looked at him helplessly.

"I don't know how to answer that."

"Did someone ask you not to tell me?"

"Datu..."

"All right." Datu stepped back, running a hand over his face. "All right. I hear you."

But he didn't sound all right. He sounded as though he had reached the edge of what he could ask without making Jae retreat even further, and the restraint in his voice somehow hurt more than anger would have.

Jae moved toward him.

"Please don't think I'm trying to shut you out."

Datu gave him a tired, unhappy look.

"You are shutting me out. You might have a reason for it, but that's still what's happening."

Jae's eyes stung.

He nodded because he couldn't honestly argue with him. He had left in the middle of the night without a word, returned with an explanation that answered almost nothing, and now expected Datu to accept that there were things he couldn't discuss. Whatever his reasons, he understood how it must look.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Datu returned to the table and turned the lamp down a little. Its light had begun to smoke against the glass, and he adjusted the wick with a degree of care that seemed almost unnecessary. Jae watched him do it, feeling increasingly helpless in the face of the quiet distance that had settled between them.

He wanted to explain everything.

He wanted to tell Datu about the bloodbending, about the things Daemin had discovered in Karthik's books, and about the dangerous knowledge they had begun to explore for the sake of the girls… the Avatars. He wanted to explain why he had agreed to help, why the possibility of learning such a technique frightened him, and why he had nevertheless felt that he couldn't simply walk away from it.

But he couldn't tell him any of that.

Not yet.

And he had no idea how to make that understandable without asking Datu to trust him with nothing in return.

Eventually, Datu rested both hands on the table.

"Tell me what you can."

Jae looked up.

The invitation was gentle, but it didn't erase the hurt in Datu's expression. He wasn't pretending that everything was fine. He was simply giving Jae another chance to say something honest.

Jae drew out the nearest chair and sat. His knees felt strangely unsteady now that he no longer had to keep standing. Datu remained where he was, waiting for him to begin.

"I went because I wanted to," Jae said. "Daemin asked me, but I could have said no. And when we finished, I came straight back."

Datu's gaze flickered toward his arm.

"I'm not hurt," Jae repeated. "I haven't lied about that."

"Did you get frightened?"

Jae looked down at his hands.

He had been frightened. More than he had expected to be, perhaps. Even knowing that Daemin would stop if he asked, there had been something deeply unsettling about surrendering control of his own body. It had made him acutely aware of how vulnerable a person could be when faced with a technique they couldn't defend themselves against.

He wasn't sure he wanted to experience it again.

"A little," he admitted.

Datu pulled out the other chair and sat opposite him.

Jae's first instinct was to soften the answer, to explain that it hadn't been all that bad or that he had known what he was agreeing to. But he stopped himself before the familiar habit could take over.

Instead, Jae kept his hands still on the table and let Datu look at him.

"Are you frightened now?" Datu asked.

Jae considered it. He was still unsettled by what had happened at the compound, by the things he'd felt and the things he didn't yet know how to make sense of. But the uneasiness wasn't quite fear, and it certainly wasn't something he could easily put into words.

"Not of anything that's going to happen," he answered at last.

Datu's expression grew thoughtful. "Of me?"

Jae's head lifted at once.

"No."

The answer came so quickly that he heard the desperation in it himself. He couldn't bear the thought of Datu believing that, of imagining he'd somehow become someone Jae needed to be afraid of.

Datu didn't look away. He waited, giving Jae the opportunity to think about what he'd been asked rather than simply dismiss it.

Jae shook his head again, more deliberately this time.

"No, Datu. Not of you."

For a moment, Datu remained quiet. Then, gently, he asked, "Then what were you afraid of?"

Jae looked down at their hands.

"I was afraid you'd be upset," Jae admitted. He traced his thumb along the edge of the table, keeping his eyes lowered. "And then I saw the light under the door, and I knew you'd been waiting for me, and I didn't know how to come in."

Some of the strain eased from Datu's face. Not all of it, though. He still looked troubled, and Jae couldn't blame him. An explanation wasn't the same as an excuse, and neither of them seemed particularly inclined to pretend otherwise.

"You still have to come in," Datu said.

Jae looked up.

"I know," he murmured, giving a small, rueful nod.

"Even when I'm upset."

"I know."

Datu watched him for another moment, as though making certain Jae understood what he was trying to say. Then he reached across the table. This time, he didn't take Jae's hand or attempt to draw him closer. He simply rested his own nearby, close enough that Jae could reach for it if he wanted to.

The gesture undid something in him.

Jae glanced at Datu's hand before finally closing the small distance between them, settling his fingers against his. Datu didn't immediately clasp his hand in return. He allowed Jae to make the first move, and only then did his fingers curl gently around his.

"I don't know what to do with something you won't tell me," Datu said quietly.

"I can't promise I won't worry about it," Datu continued. "Not when you come home in the middle of the night, looking like you've been carrying something around all by yourself."

Jae swallowed. He wanted to tell him that he hadn't meant to make him worry, that the last thing he'd wanted was to come home and find him sitting awake beneath the light, waiting for an explanation Jae couldn't give him. But he'd already said as much, and repeating it wouldn't change anything.

"I'm not asking you to," he said.

Datu's thumb moved once against his knuckles.

"And I'm not going to pretend I'm satisfied with this."

"I know."

Jae wished there was something else he could offer. A promise that everything would be fine, perhaps, or some assurance that the secrets he was keeping would eventually make sense. But he couldn't guarantee either of those things, and he didn't want to give Datu another comforting answer that might prove hollow later.

For now, all he could do was acknowledge the hurt he had caused and hope that his actions would eventually give Datu a reason to trust him.

Datu glanced down at their joined hands.

"But if you leave at night, tell me. Leave a note if I'm asleep. Something."

Jae nodded.

"I will."

"Not just because I caught you tonight."

Jae looked up at him.

"I will," he repeated, more firmly this time.

Datu studied his face for a moment longer, seemingly searching for any sign that Jae was making the promise merely to end the conversation. Eventually, he gave a small nod.

The room grew quiet again, though the silence felt different now. The tension hadn't disappeared, and Jae knew they hadn't resolved everything between them. Still, there was a little more room to breathe.

He became aware of how late it had grown, of Datu's bare feet against the floor and the untouched cup sitting near his elbow. The poor man had probably been sitting there for ages, waiting for Jae to return while his imagination supplied one possibility after another.

Guilt settled heavily in Jae's stomach.

He brushed his thumb over Datu's knuckles.

"You must be tired."

"I was tired an hour ago."

A small, uncertain smile touched Jae's mouth.

"I'm sorry."

Datu exhaled, almost a laugh, and shook his head.

"Come here."

Jae rose, keeping hold of his hand. When he reached Datu's side, Datu turned in his chair and drew him close.

Jae bent into the embrace, resting his forehead against Datu's shoulder. At first, he held himself carefully, uncertain how much comfort he was allowed to want after refusing to give Datu the answers he'd asked for. Part of him felt that he ought to remain at a distance, to let Datu decide whether he was ready to forgive him.

Then Datu's hand settled between his shoulder blades.

Jae closed his eyes.

The simple gesture loosened something in him. He hadn't realized how tightly he had been holding himself together since leaving the temple, or how much he had wanted to come home and find something familiar waiting for him. For all the unease of the evening, Datu's presence was a comfort he hadn't known how to ask for.

"I'm still upset with you," Datu murmured.

"I know."

Datu's hand moved once along his back, slow and warm.

Jae stayed there until the tightness in his chest eased enough for him to breathe without thinking about it. He couldn't tell Datu everything, but he could at least let himself be held by him. For tonight, that would have to be enough.

When he finally straightened, Datu looked up at him.

"Bed?"

Jae nodded.

They put out the lamp and moved quietly through the house. In the bedroom, Jae changed while Datu pulled the blankets back into place. The small domestic sounds… the rustle of cloth, the creak of the bed beneath Datu's weight, made the temple feel distant at last.

Jae slipped beneath the covers and lay facing him.

For a few moments, neither of them reached for the other. Jae could feel the lingering uncertainty between them, a quiet reminder that one embrace hadn't undone the worry or disappointment of the past hour.

Then, slowly, he moved his hand across the sheet.

Datu took it.

Their fingers settled together beneath the blankets, and Jae let his eyes drift closed. He was exhausted now that the tension of the evening had begun to fade, but sleep didn't come immediately. He lay listening to Datu's breathing, comforted by the familiar sound and troubled by everything he still couldn't say.

He thought about the temple again, though he tried not to. He thought about Daemin's determination, the knowledge they were pursuing, and the girls whose safety had become the justification for so many difficult decisions. He understood why they had chosen to proceed, but understanding the reasons didn't make the consequences any easier to bear.

He wondered whether Datu would see it the same way if he ever learned the truth.

The thought made him turn slightly beneath the blankets. Datu was already lying on his side, his eyes closed, though Jae couldn't tell whether he had fallen asleep. The faint tension in his brow suggested that the evening hadn't left him entirely at ease, either.

Jae wanted to reach out and smooth it away.

Instead, he remained still, unwilling to disturb him after everything that had happened.

Just as his eyes began to grow heavy, he felt Datu shift closer, an arm settling around his waist.

Jae moved into the embrace, careful and grateful, allowing himself to rest against him. The familiar warmth helped quiet his thoughts, and for the first time since leaving the temple, he felt as though he might actually be able to sleep.

"Next time, wake me," Datu said into the darkness.

"All right."

Datu's hand settled against his back.

He asked nothing more.

Jae remained awake a little longer, caught between the comfort of being held and the knowledge that he was keeping something important from the person who knew him best. He wanted to believe that, when the time came, Datu would understand why he had made the choices he had. Until then, all he could do was hold on to the trust Datu had offered him, even as he struggled to give that same trust in return.

He thought about how easily Datu had reached for him despite being upset, how he had listened even when Jae could offer him so little, and how he had made room for him beside the table rather than sending him away to face the night alone. It wasn't forgiveness, not entirely, and Jae knew better than to mistake it for that.

But it was something.

It was the reminder that their relationship could withstand an uncomfortable conversation, even if it couldn't emerge from one entirely unchanged. Datu had been hurt, and Jae would have to live with that. He couldn't undo the worry he'd caused by apologizing, nor could he expect a promise made in the middle of the night to repair everything at once.

All he could do was make sure he didn't repeat the same mistake.

Eventually, the last of Jae's thoughts began to blur together. His breathing slowed, his fingers relaxed around Datu's, and the tension in his shoulders finally began to ease. He allowed himself to settle more comfortably against Datu, accepting the warmth without trying to justify why he needed it.

The secret would still be there in the morning.

So would the questions he hadn't answered, the explanations he couldn't give, and the uncertainty of what their work with Daemin might eventually demand of them. None of it had disappeared simply because Jae had returned home, and he knew the coming days would bring their own difficulties.

For now, though, he didn't have to solve any of it.

He could rest.

And between them, beneath the quiet of the sleeping house, the secret remained, something Jae had been entrusted to keep, and something he wished he could share.