Chapter Text
It’s a sense of yearning, of being drawn to look out the window to the horizon ahead. It’s a certainty that you know in your bones means you will be right, you’ll be whole once you get there.
It’s a sense that Kibum quashes under his feet with a cold and practiced precision, with the corrosive resentment of two years of anguish. He’s done this before, he has his tools and his methods. Meditation at sunrise every day. Kickboxing in the evenings to release the anger. Television in the evenings to fill the space. Kibum has this process down.
But lately, the pull has been getting stronger and stronger. In the past two weeks, Kibum has found his gaze drifting down the subway lines, his focus scattered. A hollow ghost of a voice whispers almost-words in the back of his mind. If he paid attention, he could probably string a sentence or two together.
Kibum does not pay attention.
He organizes his case studies, and reviews his anatomy books. Rather than his usual case consulting, he actually has to go into the hospital tomorrow to review lessons with residents.
Turning the light off, Kibum lays in bed. He quickly puts his earbuds in and plays upbeat music, ignoring the slow, sad melodic line playing just out of reach.
In the morning, it’s the same routine as always. Meditation to empty the mind of thoughts. Coffee with cream. Simple, black outfits designed to avoid eliciting emotional reactions, paired with his white doctor’s coat.
On the train, Kibum tensed as he was jostled toward the window. Unexpectedly, the sense of faraway yearning didn’t come this morning, making Kibum release a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. Perhaps this latest wave would soon pass.
Kibum idly watches the scenery change, from the neighborhood clinic, to the grocery store, to the elementary school.
As he approaches the neighborhood with the hospital, he sees a pair of boys playing on the soccer field by the station. A young boy with bangs impishly dances around a taller boy, who, in spite of his stylishly wavy hair, looks peevish at the other boy’s antics. The taller boy gesticulates with his arms toward the goal post, and the smaller boy kicks the soccer ball in the opposite direction.
Kibum would snicker at the taller boy’s expression, but when the two boys turn their heads toward the train, Kibum’s heart lurches so hard at the sight of their faces that he thinks the train has stopped.
The boys have matching expressions of wide-eyed shock, which Kibum can feel mirroring his own.
Jonghyun?
Kibum presses his arm against the window, and cradles his face in the crook of his arm to hide his panting breaths. The urge to throw himself out of the moving train and leap toward the field is growing in him.
Muttering out apologies, Kibum stumbles his way to the doors and as soon as the doors open, staggers out, narrowly avoiding falling into the gap. People stare at his white-coated figure and erratic behavior, but he doesn’t--can’t--care about that right now. He *needs* to get to that field, he needs to talk to those boys.
Crossing the street without a glance toward either side, Kibum sees the pair of boys standing stock-still in the field, their eyes trained on him. He also notices for the first time the man in the long coat on the bench behind them, sitting with one leg crossed over the other.
Onew.
Kibum feels bile surge up his throat, and it’s just about everything he can do to not throw up right then and there. It’s him, he *knows* it’s him. Jinki wouldn’t sit like that.
Sweating from the tumultuous mix of emotions, Kibum feels himself cracking. After two years, to see Onew again, is too much. All of his carefully-constructed scaffolding is coming down around him.
He seethes. Onew. If it was Jinki, maybe he could pity him. Onew, though, he can *hate.*
Anger, resentment, and, horrifyingly, tears start welling up in him. Worst of all, he doesn’t know how much of it is his own. Shaking, Kibum aborts an unconscious move to wrap his arms around himself. He refuses to look weak in front of this miserable coward.
As much as he wants to turn around and forget this ever happened, the mystery of the two boys and why they feel like him is too much of a temptation. Steeling himself with a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his hands, Kibum bites his lip and looks up again.
The two boys are still frozen, twin expressions of shock on their faces. But when Kibum looks at them, a dam breaks and they stumble forward in sync with each other, taking small, hesitant, and jerky steps toward Kibum.
“Minho, Taemin, wait!” It’s Onew’s voice. He sounds on edge, nothing like the confidence-laced tones Kibum is used to associating with him.
The boys ignore him, shakily continuing toward Kibum as if drawn by an invisible force.
“Jonghyun, wait!”
Kibum’s heart pumps in his chest. Jonghyun . Kibum feels himself instinctively react to the name, snapping his head toward Onew, who is looking at him with pleading eyes.
The sight snaps something in Kibum.
“How dare you say his name,” he snarls, ignoring the tug in his heart.
“Kibum, I--”
“Don’t!” Kibum can’t handle this. The two boys aside, the sight of Onew is bringing back wave after wave of emotions that Kibum has been repressing for two years. Betrayal, mostly. Anger is there too, and sadness, and a creeping nostalgia. A useless yearning for things to be back to how they were, with the three of them in the lab together laughing--
“Kibum,” this time, Onew’s voice is thick. When Kibum looks up, there are hints of tears in his eyes. The expression makes him think of Jinki, which does nothing for his already fragile state.
“Kibum, I need to say I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry ? You--” Kibum sputters. “Who am I talking to right now?”
“It’s me--I--”
“Which. One.” Kibum grits out.
“No, I--we’re together right now. It’s both of us.”
“I don’t want to talk to him .”
“No, we--Kibum, we’re both so sorry. We both knew, and we tried to stop it, and we never wanted--”
“Never wanted what?” Kibum laughs, a noticeable edge of hysteria lacing his voice. “Never wanted to help the government use our research to extract the souls of the poor to feed to the rich? Never wanted to lie to your friends? Never wanted to hurt us?”
Kibum’s voice cracks on the last word, but he stubbornly refuses to yield eye contact.
Onew--or Jinki? Kibum can’t tell when he’s scratching at his arms and looking at him desperately--gulps down a breath. “No,” he whispers, “I never did. Any of it.”
“Then why?! ” Kibum screams. He can have volume control, or he can remain standing right now. He chooses standing.
“I--they threatened you and Jonghyun. They told me they’d use your souls for their experi--experiments.” A hiccup. This must be Jinki now.
“And your solution was better ?” Kibum jabs his hand at him, beyond caring if he’s mad at Onew or Jinki right now. “You stole the souls of innocent people! And you dare say it was for our sake?”
Jinki sobs, shaking his head miserably.
“You broke Jonghyun! His soul split in half from the shock, and you say you did it to save us?”
Jinki is silent, sobs wracking his body as Kibum continues, until a pair of light gasps reaches his ears. For the first time since he started this--argument? Screaming match? Kibum doesn’t even know what this is--he remembers the two boys.
They are standing nearby, the taller one’s mouth dropped open in shock and the smaller one covering his mouth in a similar state.
With two years of resentment turning into viciousness, Kibum swirls toward Jinki again to sneer, “And who are these two, huh? Two new pretty, young assistants? Looks like they didn’t know about your background , did they?”
Jinki, still trembling, looks at the two boys, who flinch away from his gaze. He looks down, but when he meets Kibum’s gaze again there’s a determination there that takes him aback.
“Kibum, I need you. That’s the reason I found you today.”
“I--you need me? Now?” Kibum is incredulous.
“Yes. Those two boys--Minho and Taemin--have had their souls stolen from them. Half each. I believe the government is behind it, and Kibum….I think they want to do more. They have something big planned, and I need your help to stop them. It was our research, Kibum. We need to make it right.”
“What--I---how can I believe you after all you’ve done?” Kibum can feel the tension in his body rising, burning into something out of his control. “How can I--you betrayed us. I can’t--you--”
Heat is rising into Kibum’s palms, a migraine throbbing in his head. It’s too much.
“Kibum, wait, this is dangerous--”
“We loved you!”
It’s quiet, so quiet. And then a massive shockwave of psychic energy comes, the heat bursting out of Kibum’s body as he lets out a scream.
Vaguely, as his temples burn and his eyesight blurs, Kibum sees Jinki bracing against the force, coat billowing behind him.
Lethargically turning his head, Kibum sees the two boys fall to the ground. A distant pang of concern resounds somewhere in him, but before he can focus on that, he sees a red sphere of energy lift up from the two boys and rush toward him.
Red…..Jonghyun?
Time slows as Kibum feels himself split apart. He is fabric that is tearing along a weakened seam, howling as the stitches of two years fray and tear.
It ends, and Kibum pants on the ground. When he looks up, he sees the red outline of a man. A face he holds so dear that tears spring to his eyes unbidden. He reaches a trembling hand out.
Kibum.
His voice. He had stopped hearing it years ago, broken into a million pieces when all he heard was the wailing of a shattered soul.
Kibum, it’s me. I’ve been with the both of you for the past two years. Jinki is telling the truth. He--and Onew--are remorseful. They want to fix what they’ve done.
Even though it’s him, Kibum cannot help but argue, “He can start by fixing you. I just--I’m so angry, Jjong, I don’t think I can let go of it.”
It’s ok. You don’t have to let go yet. Just trust in him.
The man looks over his shoulder.
I found those two boys. They were dying, Kibum. They needed a soul. I decided to give them mine to hold onto until theirs return. But we don’t have much time, Kibum. Jinki needs you to help him make things right.
Kibum blinks and stares at the ground.
Kibum , he breathes. Kibum. You’ve held onto me for two years. You took the most damaged, broken parts of me and sheltered them. You held me together when I needed you the most.
Kibum feels himself choking on hot tears at the sight of a sincere smile and earnest eyes. He feels his heart thrumming in his chest, the intensity of it reverberating through his whole world.
Kibum, thank you. Blonde hair and a tilted chin, a slightly lopsided smile. It hurts to see, and it makes Kibum want to stumble forward and reach--
It’s not yet time for that.
Painful, poisonous grief surges up, a denial on his lips. But he is not done speaking, it seems.
The time will come. Soon, even. But for now, you can let go. Be yourself. Your beautiful, generous, strong self.
Kibum is silent for a long moment, and then another.
It’s ok. It will all be ok. A mischievous grin. When have I *ever* been wrong?
“Plenty of times,” Kibum mutters to himself in a thick voice, before taking a deep breath.
He lets go.
…
It’s a sense of fulfillment. Of blinking your eyes once, twice, three times, and rubbing away the spots. It’s the relief of finally turning away from the window and the everlasting horizon. It’s a peaceful calm, for the first time in two years. It is enough.
--