Archive of Our Own

“Get up, you big baby.”

Matthew peels open his eyes to see Gunwook hovering over him. His jaw already looks swollen.

“That’s going to bruise real bad.”

“So long as it doesn’t prevent me from eating.”

Reluctantly, Matthew sits up and feels the stickiness of his sweat cling his shirt unpleasantly to the concrete floor. When he pushes back his hair, it feels equally damp.

“They want us on the field in two hours,” Gunwook says, and Matthew groans before he can even finish his sentence. “And Taerae says if you don’t clean the dorms today he’s throwing you off the twentieth floor.”

“I’ve been in training almost every hour of the day for the past week!” Matthew wails, and Gunwook just shrugs before offering a hand to pull him up.

The clock on the wall says it’s around sunset. They’ve been here all day. The lack of windows in the basement makes the training rooms feel like their own pocket where the rest of the world ceases to exist. It isn’t until he’s on his feet that Matthew feels the strain in his muscles, worked endlessly for days without break.

He yelps as Gunwook steps closer to scoop him up in one smooth, easy motion.

“Don’t waste all that energy before we’re outside, idiot,” Matthew says, but doesn’t fight it as Gunwook scans his fingerprint at the door and carries him along like a child.

“I’m not the one who’s going to be half dead when we’re working,” Gunwook argues.

He isn’t put back on his own feet until they’re at the top of the stairs on the ground floor where the elevators start. Gunwook winks and flexes comically, and if it were anyone else Matthew would roll his eyes.

“Go eat something before you pass out,” he says instead.

──★ ˙

Freshly showered, Matthew spends over an hour cleaning the shared dorm until it’s up to Taerae’s standards – practically spotless. He leaves Ricky’s room until last, knowing he, and probably Gyuvin, are likely fast asleep in there after being awake all of last night.

Surprisingly, when he knocks on the door he hears a cheerful ‘come in!’ He pokes his head in and finds the pair sat on the floor and an arrangement of tools scattered everywhere.

“What do we think?” Gyuvin asks, and lifts up Ricky’s arm. The segment that was previously severely dented has been entirely replaced with clean titanium panels like the arm itself is brand new.

“Woah! How does it feel?” Matthew asks.

“Itchy,” Ricky says, then flexes his fingers. “Way lighter than before.”

“But stronger!” Gyuvin adds. “I’m hoping it’ll hold up better and be less likely to get messed up in the crossfire now. I’m planning to swap the leg too.”

Aside from the amount of tools on the floor, the room looks spotless.

“Taerae looked like he was going to kill you and I knew you’d be exhausted,” Ricky explains without looking up.

“You’re the best,” Matthew says gratefully. “Are you gonna be good to go by ten?”

“Yeah, I’m basically finished,” Gyuvin says, rotating the arm around before letting Ricky pull it back. “You need a painkiller?”

“I’m good,” Matthew says, offering a cheerful smile.

Gyuvin salutes and Matthew leaves them alone to finish up. The group slowly starts to reconvene in the dorms, and Gunwook is still shoveling slices of toast in his mouth when they’re gearing up to leave.

“We’re basically just on lookout today,” Taerae explains, slipping in his earpiece. He hands Matthew a pair of facility tech cuffs to clip to his belt. “Coordinates should be on your wristband, Ricky.”

Ricky rolls up his sleeve and taps his fingerprint against the center of his wristband, bringing up a small hologram of a data panel, numbers upon numbers that escape Matthew entirely. “Okay, we ready?”

Matthew responds with a thumbs-up, Gunwook still rapidly chewing while tightening the straps of his gloves beside him. Ricky glances to the empty dorm wall, and it’s as if the paint begins to crackle and split apart. The fissures rapidly expand, forming a near-blinding light between them. In a blink it’s no different than an open doorway, though oddly shaped and still unnaturally bright.

“Roll out!” Matthew jokes, side-stepping Ricky to leap straight through the portal. His stomach flips in the familiar way, and he scrunches his eyes shut to prevent the rush of vertigo. Feet hit firm flooring and his skin meets a rush of cold air.

Steps follow behind him and he turns to watch Ricky hop through last, the wall sealing itself behind him. They’re in some large, open warehouse space, looking entirely abandoned aside from huge stacks of unlabelled crates.

Taerae taps his own wristband, opening the hologram of a map layout.

“Third district high-security warehouse,” he explains, swiping and switching to the next floor up. “Communication devices between facilities across the country are set up in these. They’re impossible for the average person to get into, even without a security set up, but the nearest one was shut down at this exact time yesterday.”

“They’re thinking Hanbin’s group again?” Gunwook guesses, and Taerae nods.

“We’ll split up and hold fort for the next couple of hours. Radio in if you find anything weird.”

They divide up, and Matthew spends the time scouting his floor curiously. The area looks untouched, and every step leaves a footprint in the thick coating of dust across the ground. There are large panelled windows across each wall, and he wonders what system exactly makes this building ‘high-security.’

“Fancy meeting you here, sunshine!”

Matthew spins around and looks up to trace the familiar voice – straight to Hanbin, sitting on the rafters with a tablet in hand. He doesn’t look up from whatever he’s doing, doesn’t spare Matthew so much as a glance.

“You’re here. Shocking,” Matthew says, brow furrowing. “At least you’re on time. Saves us waiting around.”

Hanbin just laughs. “So are you.” He slips the tablet into a bag at his waist, then hops to his feet and starts walking along the beam like he’s never had to balance in his life. Matthew considers yanking him down, but he’s never been able to keep Hanbin in close quarters combat.

“He’s here,” he radios in, and Taerae groans audibly across the channel in response.

He follows in step as Hanbin walks with the utmost confidence to a specific air vent, kicks it open, and disappears inside. Matthew scans his finger against the panel of his wristband, opens up the map projection of the building, and checks where the vent leads.

“Room C3, top floor,” he tells the others, then breaks into a sprint to the nearest staircase.

By the time he’s found the right room, so has Gyuvin, set to monitor this floor – he’s crouched by the door, palm against it, and eyes out of focus.

“Locked,” he explains at the sound of approaching footsteps. There are only a few more seconds before he blinks, stands, and opens the door. Instantly, a metal beam comes flying and Matthew only has a split second to stop it mid air. Abruptly, it floats upwards before coming to smack back down on the ground with a metallic ring, and Gyuvin’s skull lives another day.

“You’re awfully clingy,” Hanbin’s voice says lightly. “We just saw each other.”

Matthew steps fully into the room to see Hanbin sitting cross-legged on the steel flooring in front of a big metal panel, wires so intricately woven between sections he can’t even begin to guess how it works. It reminds him of an old computer, or some kind of comically intricate bomb. His experience with this sort of technology is pretty limited, it doesn’t look like the usual facility tech he’s used to. Hanbin’s eyes are on his tablet and, after a moment of thought, he turns and begins confidently tapping a code into a number keypad on the panel.

Behind Matthew, Gyuvin crouches and touches his hand to the floor. In an effort to buy him a few seconds, Matthew steps in front to cover him.

“What could you possibly need to shut these down for?” Matthew asks.

Hanbin doesn’t look up. A light on the panel turns on, and he switches back to his tablet. “Just something to do,” he jokes in lieu of an answer.

“Doing it back to back? Same time? Isn’t that a little overconfident?”

“Not if I know for a fact it works out for me,” Hanbin says, and finally lifts his gaze to throw Matthew a cheerful wink. It’s a strange comment.

Suddenly, a hand grabs Matthew’s ankle and yanks him backwards. He tumbles into Gyuvin and, instantly, the steel floor begins peeling away like ripped paper. Hanbin quickly jumps to his feet, but the metal is tearing apart into nothingness beneath them, chunks of steel breaking apart and falling to the next warehouse floor many feet below. Matthew feels himself teeter precariously, so his weight gives way easily when Hanbin jumps the gap, grabs ahold of Matthew’s shirt, and pulls them both into the fall.

It’s smart. Their eyes meet for a split second in the freefall, and Hanbin’s amused grin suggests he knows just that. Matthew is forced to reduce their gravity to prevent them both cracking their heads open on the floor; as soon as they’re low enough, Matthew feels his efforts overridden and they’re slammed into the ground for the last few feet.

The weight on him disappears instantly, and by the time he’s upright Hanbin has mysteriously disappeared. Fuck.

“He’s in here somewhere, last seen seventh floor,” Matthew radios in. When he looks up, he sees Gyuvin peering down sheepishly through the huge hole in the floor above. “Don’t worry,” Matthew calls up. “You got him off whatever he was doing.”

The whole group spends the next fifteen minutes combing the entire warehouse without any sign of where Hanbin could possibly have gone. He was as slippery as ever.

Just as Matthew starts to worry they’ll be stuck here for twice as long as planned, an alarm starts blasting – loud enough that he has to resist the urge to cover his ears – and the entire building is plunged into red light.

From the alarm speakers, a tinny voice reads: “Interference detected. Forced evacuation imminent.”

“He went back? ” Gunwook says over the earpiece. “How did he even get back up there?”

“We’ll worry about that later, I don’t know what ‘forced evacuation’ means and I’m not sticking around to find out,” Taerae says. “Ricky?”

“Fourth floor.”

Matthew turns and makes a run for the staircase. “Guys, do we suck at our jobs?”

The attempt at lightening the mood makes most of them laugh, but Taerae does not give him the satisfaction.

──★ ˙

“Ugh, freaky.”

Taerae’s first successful illusion of a person was Gunwook, after many years of nothing but recreating still objects.

“Couldn’t be any more freaky than how much staring at you he’s had to do,” Gyuvin had said, before shoving his arm straight through the second Gunwook. His hand came directly out on the other side, and Matthew had shuddered. “Can you make it move?”

“Um,” Taerae had said, before swaying dizzily and turning away to retch. The illusion wavered and dissipated, something more like fading smoke than a hologram.

It’s strange to think of how weak they once were. Stranger still to think of how much stronger they may be one day.

“What do you think?” Matthew asks, watching Taerae. He’s sitting in the middle of the training room floor with five figures in front of him – near-perfect illusions of the whole group. They’re moving, stretching, turning, but that part has never been particularly difficult for Taerae. The real concern is–

“Nope,” Taerae says weakly, putting his head between his knees. The illusions waver while Ricky shoves a bucket into Taerae’s hands, then disappear entirely.

“Two minutes and twenty-three seconds,” Gyuvin says, stopping the timer on his wristband. “That’s pretty good.”

“So that medication helped?” Gunwook asks from beside Matthew. He’s on his sixth banana and has accumulated a relatively impressive pile of peels on the concrete floor. He looks a little shaky from the adrenaline crash, but it isn’t stopping him from taking huge bites.

“I don’t know,” Taerae says, not vomiting but looking pretty close. “I don’t think the extra ten seconds is that helpful. I still feel sick, just without the relief of throwing up.”

He shudders, looking more than a little worse for wear. Ricky pats him on the back in an attempt to be comforting, but Taerae knocks the arm away like it's making it all worse.

“Maybe we take a break and come back later?” Ricky suggests.

“You just want to go play games and skip training,” Gunwook says.

Ricky gives him a look of innocence as if to say ‘who, me?’

“Whatever,” Taerae says. He’s starting to look a little less pale and sickly. “We can do extra tomorrow.”

The group trails up the staircase slowly to accommodate Taerae. He’d rather wobble up every step than let Gunwook carry him.

The halls have a sterile, unearthly feel to them. White on white on white, metal coated with a glowy sheen and dark air vents scattered across the top of the walls. The occasional camera tucked into a corner, but not as many as you’d expect for somewhere so high-security. It’s never felt homely, but it doesn’t matter when their dorm has so many personal touches. It helps Matthew feel like he’s working when he needs to, and helps him switch to relaxing when he flops onto the soft dorm couches.

When they get to the elevators in the main hall, Gunwook stops behind them.

“I’ll catch up with you, I have to do my bloods for this month.”

“Hear me out,” Matthew says, pausing. “Conspiracy theory. This place is run by vampires–”

“Nope,” Taerae says, and shoves his way past them to the elevators.

“–and this is just an elaborate set-up to get blood from us constantly.”

Gunwook nods in mock-serious thought. “Right, right, I follow. But, wouldn’t there be more of us? And why would they only take one vial at a time?”

“To fly under the radar, obviously,” Matthew says.

“Is your power being a genius?”

Taerae sighs loudly and purposefully.

“Matthew, get in the elevator or I’m closing the doors.”

──★ ˙

Matthew lifts up the manhole cover and pokes his head in. It’s pitch black.

“It’s dark and it smells bad,” he complains, sitting back up. Taerae looks at him dryly.

“Get in the hole,” he says, leaving no room for argument. Matthew sighs in dramatic fashion and begins climbing down the ladder, the rest of the team close behind.

His boots make an unpleasant noise on the damp stone. This sewer system is no longer used and the water is just run-in from the river, but a strange damp smell sticks in the air and the walls look suspiciously slimy.

He’s still scrunching up his face in disgust while Taerae is opening his map to tell them the directions and Gyuvin is turning on his wristband’s flashlight. It’s a pretty simple task. Or, well, it would be if anyone but Hanbin’s group was involved. The facility has backup bases across the entire city, for tracking, storage, data collection, and whatever else they get up to. Many of them are locked and abandoned, entirely inaccessible to the average person. Key element being the average person .

“There we go,” Taerae says. They’re down some odd side tunnel that deviates from the typical pathing, and it comes to an abrupt halt at a door. Said door stretches the entire width of the tunnel, foreboding in its sturdy blandness. There’s a screen with a digitalized keypad on the wall beside it, blatantly facility tech. Gyuvin puts his palm to the door, but quickly pulls it back again.

“It’s too complicated,” Gyuvin admits, stepping back. “It’s encoded by that device. More than just metal in there, I can’t move all of the parts in one go.”

Gunwook steps past Taerae with total confidence, who instantly makes a grab at his shirt.

“Don’t waste your–”

Gunwook throws a punch into the device and it’s instantly obliterated into scattering chunks of metal and glass. Ricky, closest to the impact, recoils.

“Idiot,” Taerae says. “There were a thousand other ways to do that.”

“Aw come on, he never gets to hit anything,” Matthew says, and Gunwook turns to give him a high five with his free hand while shaking debris from his other glove. “Cool hit.”

Taerae rolls his eyes wearily, before gesturing for Gyuvin to reattempt the door.

More successful this time, Gyuvin slips the lock and Gunwook promptly yanks the heavy concrete of the door open. It makes an unpleasant, grating noise as he does; promptly, the darkness of the tunnel is filled with sickly green light from varying screens that should not be on.

Naturally, Hanbin is at the console. He must have been here for some time, as a lot of wires are running across the floor that look as though they’ve been pulled out. Some have been rushedly duct taped. It looks suspect, but all of the old systems in here are running, so it must be functional to some extent.

He doesn’t even bother turning to check who it is. He unplugs a USB from one of the systems and shoves it in his bag with his tablet. Matthew wonders what he could possibly find so interesting down here in some old abandoned facility backup base.

“You wouldn’t believe the weapons they’ve left down here,” Hanbin finally says, spinning around. He gestures to one of the walls which is pulled open like a sliding door, another encoded screen beside it with a cheerful ‘unlocked’ across it. Matthew is starting to think Hanbin has a whole second power for just knowing passwords. He must never get locked out of his tablet. The closet-like compartment displays a weapons wall, mostly empty but still containing a few different facility tech guns. “Seems unsafe, no? Don’t worry, you can have them.”

“Put the bag on the floor and put your hands up,” Taerae says, but his tired tone suggests he knows Hanbin has never once in his life agreed, and today won’t be the first.

Hanbin offers a deceptively polite smile, incredibly calm for someone with their exit blocked by five people. “No hard feelings, but I have places to be. I’m sure you understand.”

Instantly, Hanbin is in Taerae’s face, reaching for contact.

Matthew side steps closer to throw up a block and prevent Hanbin getting a hand on Taerae. It’s a mistake, because Hanbin takes the chance to knock into him instead. Matthew stumbles, and Hanbin in turn uses that slight imbalance to throw Matthew backwards, unnaturally fast.

He anticipates hitting the wall, but it never comes. His stomach lurches as he’s thrown through a portal that wasn’t there a second ago, and Hanbin gasps when the breath is knocked out of him by the full weight of Matthew appearing through the ceiling above him.

Matthew can never mess with Hanbin’s gravity. He overrides it, and the constant state of motion just gives Hanbin more to work with.

Hanbin is out from under him in a second, and before Matthew is even on his feet, he’s being forcibly dropped through another portal beneath him to move him out of the danger line where Gunwook gets shoved. Such rapid portal usage always gives him a rush of vertigo, but he can’t even imagine how focused Ricky has to be to keep them all as out-of-the-frey as possible, so he accepts the dizziness for what it is.

He shakes the feeling from his head and rights himself in time to see Gunwook finally land a solid punch on Hanbin’s face. He hardly uses any of his stored power, and it shows through only the smallest crunch of Hanbin’s nose breaking and a still-intact head.

Hanbin stumbles back against the wall, only looking a little disoriented considering the amount of blood running down his face. He takes a half-step forward, Matthew blinks, and he’s already on Gunwook, giving him a gentle-looking knock backwards that sends him reeling into the opposing wall.

In the chaos, Taerae is trying to help Gyuvin figure out how to close the door with the encoder broken, flipping through holograms on his wristband swiftly. Ricky is tucked in beside them, but his eyes are entirely on the fight and he has visible sweat on his brow. The close, hands-on stuff did always end up being mostly Gunwook and Matthew.

There are very few things in this room that Matthew can safely alter the gravity of. He doesn’t dare touch the structure of the room itself before he does something stupid like cave them all in.

Hanbin is on him in a breath, and Matthew manages to duck under and through the approaching hand without any contact. For the shortest second, his eyes meet Ricky’s, and some micro communication fires off between them. The ground disappears, the world tilts, and Matthew lands a clean kick into Hanbin’s ribs while they’re mid-portal.

They’re both knocked head-first onto the ground, hard, but Hanbin gets the brunt of it. Matthew’s vision swims for the shortest second. Before he can be thrown away again, he reaches over to grab Hanbin by the jaw and lift his head up.

His fingers slip a little from the blood, but it doesn’t look like any sort of severe injury. Nearly all of it is pouring from what looks to be a very broken nose. Hanbin breathes out through his nostrils and winces, then lifts his eyes to meet Matthew’s.

“You’re late to our date,” Hanbin says, the corners of his mouth lifting. His gaze drifts to somewhere behind Matthew, where Gunwook is likely now standing. “You were expected over an hour ago.”

Matthew frowns. “What does that mean?”

“Don’t chit-chat, cuff him or something!” Taerae demands. Gyuvin is looking pretty worse for wear, palms against the wall and door still wide open.

“No chit-chat?” Hanbin says forlornly. “That’s the best part.”

Matthew’s leg is yanked out from under him. The very second before his skull collides with the floor, he falls right down through it again. A hand grasps at the front of his chest and he’s pushed mid-air. His own trick used against him and, naturally, getting shoved by Hanbin is significantly worse than a well-trained kick. One moment he’s falling, and the next wind is rushing past him deafeningly fast, and the next his back smacks into water. It happens so disorientingly quickly that he has no time to slow his gravity. The shock of the impact rumbles through his bones, but the water helped to take the edge off.

Slowly, Matthew sits up, and finds the water up to his waist. He’s been thrown at least twenty feet back, through the door and through the tunnel, in the blink of an eye.

“That was a close one. Nearly missed the water. Wouldn’t have been good for your spine.”

Matthew spins his head to see Hanbin standing further down in the tunnel. He’s bloody but otherwise relaxed. He could at least do them the justice of looking slightly out of breath.

“This was fun, let’s do it again sometime!”

And he turns around the corner into the darkness. If they follow him that way, he will be long gone by the time they even reach the end of the tunnel. If five of them can’t catch one guy, what could they possibly do if he brought his entire group? Who knows how many people work for him?

Taerae looks at Matthew, soggy and exhausted, with pity.

“Should we like, take the guns back?” Gunwook asks in the silence.

“We wouldn’t have to if you hadn’t broken the lock mechanism,” Taerae says curtly.

Sheepish, Gunwook just shrugs.

──★ ˙

Matthew lands a well-placed punch on Gunwook’s jaw, right where he’s still bruised from last time.

“Ugh,” Gunwook groans, dropping his guard. “That was a good one.”

“Was it enough, you think?” Matthew asks, wiping a line of sweat from his brow.

“I think so. Let me put my gloves on.”

Matthew and Gunwook have spent the most time in the training rooms together out of everyone. It isn’t necessarily anything to do with their combined powers. Matthew is simply the second strongest physically, the most willing to spend time bulking up, and the cleanest punch of the group. After Gunwook, of course.

Most of their duo training has always been simple boxing. Naturally, Matthew gets the brunt of it, since he doesn’t actually get anything out of being punched. Gunwook, however, is a different story.

“Okay,” Gunwook says, flexing his gloved hands.

The entirety of the training rooms are concrete. It’s sturdy and still accommodates Gyuvin. Concrete is boring, though, and Gunwook loves to push himself more than the rest of them.

Matthew sets the stainless steel bar across the floor and steps on it with one foot. “Give it your best shot.”

Gunwook doesn’t hesitate, simply throws a punch that Matthew can feel vibrate all the way up his leg and into his jaw. The impact makes Gunwook recoil. The steel is cracked prominently, but not entirely broken.

“All good?” Matthew asks quickly, walking over to check Gunwook’s hand.

“It’s fine, not broken,” Gunwook says, still allowing Matthew to turn it over carefully. “Didn’t work as well as I wanted. Maybe we start half an inch thinner?”

“Probably a good idea. You should take a break before we fight again, though. You don’t look great.”

Gunwook has always been notorious for overdoing it. It isn’t something fixable about him, but you learn to work around it.

Younger Gunwook was giving the whole team gray hairs while they were still teenagers. He’d box with Matthew, purposefully take every strike to store up as much energy as possible – the state of his physical body be damned – and try to hit things far too hard for his skill level.

“I think I should try to make you some gloves,” Gyuvin had said one day, Gunwook’s fourth time shattering the bones in his knuckles. “I can probably take some of the stress off of the bone.”

They don’t know their exact ages, and they can’t be that far apart in years, but Taerae’s maturity and sense of organization had him acting like a leader from the start. He never seemed particularly interested in filling that position, but when you’re the only one freaking out at the sight of Gunwook testing if he is capable of punching moving bullets, that role tends to fall on you naturally.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Taerae had said, and Gunwook had the decency to look guilty. “Leave that stuff to Gyuvin! Seriously, you people are going to kill me.”

Gunwook, the notorious overdoer he is, always had a tendency towards silly ideas and sillier plans. Matthew and Gyuvin were simply victims of poor impulse control and the occasional ‘okay, but what if?’ Ricky used to be pretty immature with them too, but losing his arm and leg turned him into something a little quieter, a little more reserved. If Matthew thinks about it, all of them became more serious, to some extent. Training feels less goofy and fun when someone loses something they can’t get back.

All of them have grown up, Matthew supposes. It’s a good thing for Taerae’s stress level.

It doesn’t stop them curling up on the couch and playing the same ancient fighter game on an even more ancient console every now and again, or even crawling into the same room with all of their blankets for a sleepover after a particularly long day. It just makes them calmer. Maybe more risk-averse. Well, sometimes.

“Nah, I can do one more try,” Gunwook says, and Matthew sighs.

“If you say so.”

──★ ˙

The city is split by a wide, curving river flanked by stone banks and only crossable by the main highway; it paths its way across via a huge bridge. The first time Matthew saw it he stood there gawking. You don’t see many new sights when you’re as busy as they are.

He stands there now and ponders it for a while, enjoying the way the soon-setting sun casts through the triangular shapes of the beams.

“Stop yearning. You’re procrastinating getting in the hole again,” Taerae says, and Matthew yelps as his arm is pinched. They’re standing outside of the shuttered and long-abandoned underground railway system. With a more efficient road layout, it became useless over the years. Or so he’s heard. It’s been closed since before they were moved here.

“I’m starting to think we spent too much time in creepy tunnels,” Gyuvin says once he’s unlocked the shutter.

“How much is too much?” Gunwook asks.

“Twice in one week is sort of overdoing it, no?”

“I’d say we could up it to at least three before it’s getting ridiculous,” Ricky says, slipping under the shutter.

The tunnel leads them down a set of stairs and into what was once a small station. The tiles beneath their feet are cracked and the walls are littered with graffiti. None of the lights are on, obviously, so they are stuck relying on their wristbands again.

Matthew is the first to hop down onto the tracks. They’re rusted and dotted with random trash.

“Follow the north tunnel until it splits off from the tracks on the right side,” Taerae says, following after him. “I don’t have a coordinate map of this sector, so we’re going to have to go by foot.”

It’s been an especially long day, but the walk is still full of conversation.

“That makes no sense, you’re being dumb,” Taerae says. “If you pissed off enough people, nobody would want you in a government position. They’d find a way to kill you somehow.”

“I’m not saying I want to be any kind of leader,” Gunwook argues. “I’m just saying, I think if we did want to, people would be hard pressed to stop us.”

“We are monsters to be feared,” Gyuvin says dramatically. He puts his palm on the wall and slowly rakes his hand along as he walks, leaving claw-like gashes across the metal in the wake of his fingertips.

“You are so childish,” Ricky complains, but he has the same fond look on his face that he always does.

“If you were a really kind, benevolent leader, nobody would overthrow you,” Matthew adds.

“If you were so benevolent, the powers don’t come into question,” Taerae says wryly. “The powers imply you are using them to get into that spot in the first place.”

The conversation falls to a stop once they turn into the tunnel and see the doors to the facility backup base wide open. Walking closer shows that none of the screens are turned on, but the haphazard fixing shows signs of Hanbin having been here.

“They told us it hadn’t been touched when we left!” Gunwook says. “No way he came and went that fast? We missed him!”

As if on queue, the world itself seems to shake. Small pieces of rock fall free of the ceiling and scatter across the tunnel.

“Huh. We don’t get earthquakes here,” Gyuvin jokes. “No, but what the fuck was that?”

Their eyes all habitually switch to Taerae.

“There is no map!” he says. “Run, now. We’ll have to get out at the next station.”

They come out of the station and are only a short sprint from a large, cleared out space of land on the city outskirts. It’s the largest construction site Matthew has ever seen. It’s strange, almost like someone is constructing office buildings, but the facility logo is plastered on the fence with a threatening ‘Restricted Area: No Trespassing’ sign every few steps.

“What are they even building here?” Gunwook asks.

Taerae shrugs. “No idea, but I don’t like that,” he says, pointing at where one of the building frames has, somehow, been entirely demolished into a pile of rubble. “That doesn’t just happen.”

“It’s okay, you can say who you think it is,” Gyuvin says lightly.

Ricky transports them onto the other side of the fence and they stick close together as they clear the area. This wasn’t in their mission report and there’s a chance they’ll get in trouble, but Hanbin was already long gone from the base they were supposed to check, so what’s the harm in making sure he isn’t causing more problems?

“Guys?” Gunwook says, causing the group to fall to a halt. He gestures up at a tall section of scaffolding against the side of a building. Lo and behold, it’s the person they all expected.

For the first time ever, Hanbin isn’t alone. There’s someone following close behind him. Some kind of accomplice? A second-in-command?

Hanbin leans in to whisper something to his ally, then they both pause for a few seconds. Suddenly, the new face recoils as though knocked over the head with something heavy, and grasps his forehead. How strange. Matthew, confused, watches them closely. The guy whispers something back to Hanbin, who nods in response.

Taerae pulls Matthew back by the shoulder and sets a small tracker clip and its wristband attachment in his palm. He doesn’t even need to explain the plan.

“Send me in coach!” Matthew says, nudging Ricky with his elbow.

“I can get you close but it’ll have to be on that flat wall,” Ricky says quickly, gesturing to the other building beside. He’d have to get a good jump in to make it across to the scaffolding where Hanbin is.

“Less talk more portal,” Matthew says with a grin. He takes several steps back while Ricky creates the entry portal on the ground, then runs up and throws himself in.

For a split second, it feels like he won’t make it. Or at least smack his face straight into a beam. His aim was a little off and his hands find purchase on one of the beams mid-jump, leaving him to swiftly clamber up.

Hanbin’s companion shrinks at the sight of him, but when Hanbin tries to shoo him away from the inevitable fight, he firmly stands his ground on the platform. Matthew may be familiar with what Hanbin can do, but the new guy is a wild card. His hair is messy, he’s in an oversized pink hoodie, and he looks quite nervous. He doesn’t seem particularly threatening, but Hanbin never did either.

“You want to pick a battle this high up?” Hanbin asks, eyeing Matthew. The scaffolding platform is maybe fifteen feet wide, and if Matthew has to fight two people with powers… It’s just a good thing he doesn’t have to worry about falling.

“If I can’t get you down, I suppose I have to come up,” Matthew says with a shrug. Hanbin smiles at that, like this is all a fun game to him. His weight shifts, and it’s the only warning Matthew gets before Hanbin is in his personal space.

Matthew has always been the better close-combat fighter, in theory. All the practice with Gunwook did pay off. If powers weren’t involved, he could knock Hanbin out no problem.

However, powers are involved. One hit from Hanbin – even a light touch at the wrong time – is significantly more dangerous. Matthew is forced to dip and dodge to avoid any contact, and it makes landing any of his own hits ten times as difficult.

“What are you doing out here?” Matthew asks, ducking a beat before Hanbin’s fist meets his jaw. He tries to kick Hanbin’s leg out from under him, but a quick shift and a precarious wobble saves him. Matthew takes the chance to speedily clip the tracker to Hanbin’s bag and lean back out of range.

Their eyes meet for the shortest of seconds. “If I told you,” Hanbin says, sounding only the slightest bit winded, “You wouldn’t listen anyway.”

It’s such an odd thing to say that Matthew feels his concentration on the fight waver slightly.

He sidesteps to avoid a strike and misses Hanbin swerving to get a good kick into his stomach. Matthew anticipates the force of being thrown back, but it never comes. It knocks him a little off balance and he tries to recover fast, but it doesn’t particularly matter when Hanbin isn’t taking the opportunity to throw him away. Suddenly Hanbin is dodging his hits too, not using his power at all, and twirling around him in the process. It feels like some kind of stupid dance.

“Hanbin!” his friend snaps, and it makes Hanbin laugh.

“Fine, fine,” he says, turning around Matthew once more and knocking him backwards. This time it sends Matthew reeling off of the scaffolding, air rushing past his ears, and towards the ground.

He falls through the ground and has the extremely disorienting experience of popping back out of the dirt elsewhere with the same force. His weight drops into a pair of waiting arms.

“Gotcha!” Gunwook says before setting him on his own feet again.

When Matthew looks up at the scaffolding, both have disappeared.

“Did you get it?” Ricky asks.

“Yeah, it’s on the bag.”

Suddenly, there is a deafening metallic groan behind them, and it feels as though the ground itself rumbles with the force of it. They spin, and the huge crane behind them is teetering to the side as though off-balance; the counterweight anchor is entirely cut.

“We were here the whole time! How did he have the chance to–”

Gyuvin sprints closer before Taerae can finish speaking and throws both of his hands against the metal base. The entire machine creaks jarringly, and Matthew switches his focus to it.

He can’t really influence things this big yet, but maybe the slightest reduction in gravity could take even an inch off of Gyuvin’s ambitious effort.

Gyuvin lets out a rush of breath, and Matthew can tell he’s struggling. The crane has stopped falling but now isn’t moving at all, caught mid-collapse. A sign post near them suddenly bends as though hit, and there are a hundred little clanks and snapping pops as the metal around them suffers.

“Run!” calls Taerae, twisting to grab Ricky, but it’s too late. Ricky yelps, Matthew and Gyuvin both instantly lose focus, and the crane starts dropping at full speed. Taerae begins yanking Ricky along with him, and Matthew finds himself pulled into a run by Gunwook. He turns to look for Gyuvin in time to see the ground swallowing him up in a portal, only for him to be thrown out onto the ground a hundred feet in front of them.

Despite the distance they’ve made, the force of the crane hitting the ground knocks them all forward into a tumble on the ground in a rush of dust and flying debris.

Matthew doesn’t give himself time to recover, and when he clambers to his feet he sees the others doing the same amidst the dispersing cloud of the aftermath.

Minus Ricky, who stays hunched on the floor without lifting his head. Taerae steps closer, but Gyuvin comes running before he has a chance.

“Fuck!” Gyuvin says. Matthew blinks and he’s crouched down by Ricky. “Fuck. Ricky, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Ricky replies through gritted teeth. He doesn’t look particularly fine, but he’s been through worse. Slowly, he uncurls himself, and his metal arm is crushed like tinfoil. No matter how many times he sees it happen, the sight makes Matthew cringe in empathy.

“Maybe we should try plastic,” Taerae says, but the joke falls flat when he himself looks so worried.

“I shouldn’t have tried to do that, I just panicked,” Gyuvin says urgently. His hands hover around Ricky as though he wants to help but is afraid of making it worse. “I thought this material would work better. It’s so hard to bend…”

“You tried to do the right thing,” Gunwook says, but his expression wavers.

Gyuvin finally takes Ricky’s hand. “I’ll have to try and set it back, but it’ll take me a while, and–” He glances off where Hanbin and his companion went, looking torn.

“Stay with him,” Taerae says gently. “The three of us can handle it.”

Gyuvin looks grateful, and wastes no time setting a hand against Ricky’s crumpled arm and closing his eyes in focus.

“Split up,” Taerae says, gesturing, and the three of them divide to cover the construction site.

The crane has knocked its way through several half-constructed buildings, including the frame of what would eventually be a several floor tall building.

Matthew can’t figure out what Hanbin could possibly gain from destroying a facility construction site, other than creating senseless havoc.

Something moves out the corner of his vision. Found you.

The duo are rushing across the tall, partially crushed framework of the biggest building frame. Hanbin keeps slowing to account for his companion, who still looks a lot like he really was hit over the head by something invisible. Matthew has to squint a little to see them from behind a shorter, more intact building, and he can only just see their pathing over its roof. A much smaller crane is holding up a metal beam by cables, clearly abandoned mid-construction. It’s a ridiculously risky way to go, but it would lead them into a more enclosed building where they could try to disappear discreetly. Matthew has never known Hanbin to play it safe.

“They’re on the huge frame that got crushed,” he radios. “Right at the top. Crossing to the more constructed building, south side. It looks like they’re trying to get out.”

“Get them across, I’ll set up and wait on the other side,” Taerae says back.

Matthew hears footsteps behind him, and spares the shortest glance to see Gunwook rushing over, out of breath.

Hanbin jumps on the beam and turns to hold out a hand for his companion, who makes the jump just fine by himself.

You’re predictable , Matthew thinks.

Quickly, Matthew increases the gravity on the beam in an effort to angle it correctly and spook them both off to where Taerae is waiting. It’s difficult altering something from this far away; he feels his body temperature rise with the effort.

The beam slants precariously, and one of the cables snaps with the force of the uneven pull.

Matthew watches as, instead of both rushing ahead as predicted, Hanbin turns and makes a grab for his ally’s hand. It misses, and the beam tilts further; Hanbin watches the other fall off, out of his reach – and out of Matthew’s vision.

“Hao!” Hanbin shouts, sounding terrified. A weird jolt of panic passes through Matthew and his focus on the beam drops. With the cable broken, it doesn’t matter. Hanbin slides down the beam and jumps off to the side at an unnatural speed, also disappearing out of view behind the cover of the building.

Instinctively, Matthew starts running to loop around the building and can hear Gunwook hot on his heels. He falls to a stop as soon as he rounds the corner to where – Hao? – had fallen. He’s on the ground amidst random debris from the construction, and half of his head is so bloody he’s near unrecognizable. Hanbin is in the middle of carefully tilting his face, but Hao’s eyes are hazy and distant.

Hanbin carefully peels away Hao’s jacket with shaking hands, revealing significant amounts of blood seeping through his shirt. He suddenly looks frail and small, and when he turns to look at Matthew, his gaze looks genuinely frightened before it hardens.

“Come on,” he says to Hao. “You’ll be okay. We just have to get you back to Jiwoong.”

When he starts trying to scoop up a groaning Hao, Gunwook whispers to Matthew, “Now’s our chance.”

Matthew feels abruptly sick. “Let them go.”

“What? Are you fucking kidding?”

“Just leave it today!” he snaps. “We have the tracker anyway.” Wherever Taerae is, off waiting for what should have been a clean plan, he isn’t here to counter Matthew’s decision. Gunwook stares at him like he’s gone totally crazy. Maybe he has. He has no explanation for his panic.

Hanbin doesn’t look behind him as he leaves. Blood pools on the ground where Hao was laying, already seeping into the dirt. Something in Matthew feels irrevocably wrong.

“Let’s find the others and go home,” Matthew says. Though Gunwook doesn’t say anything, he knows this is going to come back up in front of everyone. It’s a problem for later.

“You let them go ?” Taerae says when they’re all settled at home, and it’s suddenly a problem for now.

They haven’t even had time to shower and change clothes. Ricky is slumped against Gyuvin’s side on the couch, a little loopy from painkillers, and Gunwook is just hovering around, looking nervous.

“He was hurt real bad. He could have died if nobody helped him,” Matthew says quietly, uncomfortable. He’d sat on the other couch, but now that Taerae is standing over him he sort of wishes he was still on his feet where he’d feel less small.

“So you’re going to crumble at a little blood? These people hurt others every day!” Taerae retorts. “What do you think is going to happen to them if we bring them in alive, anyway? This facility doesn’t have the means of containing dangerous powers just to play morals! I strongly doubt they’re going to sit pretty and use their powers for good with their streak.”

“There has to be some other way,” Matthew says, frowning.

Taerae buries his face in his hands, and he looks so genuinely exhausted that Matthew almost feels regret. Almost. He trusts his gut, and he knows for a fact that something about that situation was simply not right. “Seriously, Matthew, this stuff is beyond us. I get you want to do the right thing, and you know I like that about you, but this is the greater good we’re talking about.”

“It’s going to come back to you,” Gyuvin finally says. “You can call it mercy all you want, but if they find out you’re letting them go, something could happen to you . None of us want that.”

All eyes turn to Matthew. Uneasy with the attention, Matthew looks away.

“Go shower and take a break,” Taerae says, voice now gentle. “I’ll make something up in the report.”

Without another word, Matthew gets up and leaves. His half of the tracker feels oddly heavy in his pocket.

──★ ˙

When your entire life has been the same, you don’t know anything else.

Matthew has been with the same people as long as he can remember. Following the same steps. Doing the same things. Until he got older, he didn’t even know most people lived vastly different lives to him. It’s all he’s ever known.

Their younger years consisted mostly of endurance training. Learning their potential and proceeding to push it as far as their bodies would allow. Most of them got by pretty fine. He used to feel incredibly sick every time he went a little too far, but it’s something he lost with practice. If only he could say the same for Taerae – the guy never lost his constant nausea, and it’s frankly impressive he still has a functioning stomach with how many years he’s spent bending over and retching off to the side of the room.

Of course, they didn’t all come out the same way on the other side. It comes with the program, some powers are just riskier than others. Only Gyuvin and Matthew were there when Ricky lost a limb for the first time. It was the first time really testing the potential of people walking through his portals, and Ricky would later explain that stepping through them feels really strange. That it’s disorienting, and not as simple as dropping bottles of water through and giggling when they pop out on the other side.

Injuries are just part of what they do. They’ve lost count of how many times Gunwook has broken his hand over the years, and Ricky has lost the same arm plenty of times in the process of mastering his skills. The process, the suffering, it’s what they’re made for. It’s all for something greater than themselves, and it doesn’t matter where they came from or what they could be in some less significant life. This is their purpose.

“I think I’m going to practice alone from now on,” Gyuvin had told them. It made sense to start dividing up training over time as their skills became more specialized, but they all knew he was just bothered about what he’d accidentally done to Ricky. Nobody had wanted to say anything, though; they all simply started taking separate slots. It was, however, something that would be unavoidable in field work. They were a team, and working together was essential. 

“Let’s do one session a week as a group,” Taerae had suggested. Gyuvin had looked reluctant, but didn’t fight it. Eventually, he got over his newfound reservations and they could train as a group again when the situation called for it. Matthew was relieved, because it was always more fun that way.

Their field work used to be nothing more than a child’s game. Everything was set up for them like a puzzle, and they were highly monitored the entire time. Simple things, like find and retrieve. Of course, this did nothing to prepare them for real combat. The first time they were given any kind of real task, catching some low grade criminal, they were so messy and hesitant with actually using their powers that it didn’t matter that their opposition was nothing but a measly gun.

It kickstarted team vs team training, which is what really helped Matthew settle into his skills. After all, it takes a lot of work to feel confident using your powers on the only friends you have. They came out of it infinitely stronger, with the only casualties being one of Gunwook’s fingers, a couple of broken bones, and a pretty cool scar on Matthew’s jaw from a chunk of metal he didn’t see coming in time.

Their life worked on the same system for a while, until they were transferred cross-country to another facility. It was the first time field work felt dangerous, the first time Matthew truly worried for his friends, and their first time fighting someone else like them . But, none of that matters. It’s what they’re meant to do and they’re all still alive. It’s their purpose, after all.

“I didn’t know people could have powers like us if they weren’t being used to do good work,” Gyuvin had said after the first time.

“Me neither,” Taerae had said. “No matter what, we can never end up like that.”

“Agreed.”

──★ ˙

“Sung Hanbin,” Gyuvin reads, eyes on his hologram. “Acceleration. Can alter the speed of moving objects and entities. Dead or alive. The others… Oh.”

“What?” Ricky asks from where he’s lounging on the other couch.

“Hanbin is listed as a high-risk escapee. From this exact facility.”

Matthew’s head shoots up, and he notices the others do the same.

“He used to work here?” Gunwook asks curiously.

“He must have. How weird,” Gyuvin says, then shrugs and swipes the screen. “The others don’t have their abilities listed, but they are wanted alive as high priority individuals. Zhang Hao and Kim Jiwoong.”

“You’re sure those are the names you heard?” Taerae asks, and Gunwook nods.

“The one we saw can’t have anything particularly useful in combat, because he couldn’t do anything when he was falling before,” Gunwook points out. “But then why would he have been there?”

They haven’t heard anything from Hanbin since the construction site, nearly three weeks ago now. Their field work has entirely consisted of typical crime. It’s boringly easy and gives them a lot of free time.

“Are we sure they even have powers? Why wouldn’t they be on the system?” Ricky cuts in.

“Why would they be wanted alive as high priority if they didn’t?” Gyuvin counters, and Ricky leans back in thought.

“Well, that’s at least three wanted individuals that are likely set up in the same base. It sucks that we lost our half of the tracker, but the idea was sound. We can try another one next time,” Taerae says.

Matthew sinks nervously into the couch. If it were possible, his eyes would have burned a hole into the floor with how intensely he’s staring at it.

Their entire work system relies on them simply doing what they’re told. They aren’t expected to stop and empathize, that isn’t how you stop a criminal. Still. Nobody but Matthew seems caught up on the fact that Hanbin might have disappeared because his friend is dead. Were they friends? Do you react like that if it’s just an accomplice?

If I told you, you wouldn’t listen anyway.

Hanbin’s comment weighs him down like an anchor. It could mean nothing. Something in him says it doesn’t.

Matthew had a thought within the first week, and spent the better part of the next two talking himself out of it and back into it again. He’s starting to accept he doesn’t have a choice. After all, they think the tracker is gone. They even trailed the entire destroyed construction site for it the next day. If he miraculously pulls it out of nowhere again, they’ll know he lied.

Later, Matthew sits in his room and connects the tracker to his wristband. He generates the map to the tracker’s coordinates, draws it out poorly in a notebook, then deletes the data from his wristband for good.

Lying in bed that night, his mind won’t slow down. The very thought of what he’s planning is making him feel sick. However the anxiety, the nausea, the fears, they can’t be worse than not making sure. He has to check. For his own peace of mind. He considers getting up to go train if sleep will escape him all night. Maybe Gunwook would even join him.

His thoughts are interrupted by a gentle knock on his door.

“Come in,” Matthew says, and Ricky pokes his head around the door.

“You’re awake,” he says and, without another word, wanders over to crawl his way into Matthew’s bed. It’s always a tight fit in the small dorm beds, but it’s a thousand times easier than when Gunwook decides he wants to share.

Limbs tangled, Ricky is knocked out within a minute. With lives as busy as theirs, it’s no surprise they sleep better together. It’s comforting. Still, with the knowledge of his own lies, the comfort does not come without a dose of guilt.

Ricky’s slow, regular breathing puts eventual pause to Matthew’s wavering thoughts. He’s asleep before he even knows it.

──★ ˙

The only time Matthew has ever broken his curfew is back when he and Gunwook snuck out to steal snacks from the kitchens in the middle of the night. They were basically still little kids, and when they had accidentally set off the alarm system they had ended up both crying their eyes out, vowing to never do it again.

Matthew knows the facility like the back of his hand. Their location is indirectly tracked through every fingerprint-locked door. They have no reason to sneak around, so what basis would anyone have to proof the building against their powers?

Delicately, Matthew lifts the vent cover from the top of the wall, lessens his own gravity, and pulls himself up before slotting the cover back in place. He keeps his gravity slightly off to avoid making too much noise by crawling through, and tracks the path out to the rooftop, one floor above their dorm.

The night air is bitingly cold. He keeps himself tucked against a wall to maneuver around to the east side of the building where he knows he can avoid most of the cameras, then leans over the ledge.

It’s a twenty story drop. Good thing he was never bad with heights. Either way, it’s a far longer drop than he’s ever practiced in one go.

Reluctantly, Matthew climbs over the ledge, stone rough against his palms. He takes a breath, then lets go.

The air rushes past him fast enough to make his ears ring and eyes water. Quickly, he catches himself, dropping his gravity and scrabbling to hold onto the edge of a window. He’s made it around half way.

One more deep breath, and he drops himself again. He catches himself several feet from the ground before releasing himself to land on his feet. The combination of chilling wind and rushing adrenaline makes him feel a little crazy. Crazy enough to wonder what he is doing right now.

I have to try, he tells himself. I have to know.

If he gets himself killed, well. So be it.

He makes it to the fence and lifts himself over; it’s a short fifteen minute walk through isolated forest to make it to the outskirts of the city by foot, and he spends most of it running.

Using hologram maps isn’t an option, since his wristband is tracked by usage. He’s forced to walk by foot, hood up, to the neglected half of the city in an effort to find where the tracker map leads.

The road marks are chipped here, and not all of the street lights work. It’s isolated compared to the rest of the city, quiet enough to leave an eerie feeling in Matthew’s stomach. The deep alley where the tracker leads to stretches out in darkness, fire escapes scattered against the sides of the tall, derelict buildings.

The whole adventure has made Matthew aware of how much he relies on his wristband for everything – he has no source of light without it. With softened steps, he walks into the shadows to find… well, anything.

He makes it no more than ten steps before he hears something whistle through the air. Rapidly, he attempts to release its gravity, but it’s near impossible when he can’t even see what he’s targeting. Pain explodes in his arm and, before he can so much as react, the breath is knocked out of him and the back of his head slams into the asphalt.

“Oof,” he croaks, resisting the urge to reach for his power.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” Hanbin asks.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Matthew says, breathless. “I just want to talk.”

“By turning up here in the middle of the night?”

“I had no other choice. I’m alone.”

Hanbin’s weight lessens for a moment, but then returns twofold, an elbow up to Matthew’s throat.

“How did you get here?”

“I put a tracker on you before, but I’m the only one who–”

“A tracker ? Is this some kind of trap? Have you told them?”

“I haven’t!” Matthew tilts his head away to give himself some space to breathe, but Hanbin closes in to match it. “I swear I haven’t. The tracker’s on your bag. I just want to talk to you. I promise.”

There are a tense few seconds where Hanbin doesn’t move or say anything, and Matthew wonders if he really has walked himself to his death tonight. Then, slowly, the elbow comes away from his throat and the weight on his body disappears. Hesitantly, Matthew sits himself up.

A flashlight turns on, and Matthew recoils at the sudden brightness. Hanbin stands over him with a distrusting expression, and Matthew finds himself mourning the relaxed teasing he is used to.

“Talk about what?” Hanbin asks, guard still up.

“We got your full data panel yesterday,” Matthew says quietly. “You’re from the facility?”

“You came all the way here to ask me that?” Hanbin says. “Are you stupid?”

Matthew frowns. “I’ve just never thought about it. You can’t be that different in age from me. I’ve never seen you before. Did you live at this facility before we got here?”

Hanbin’s eyes narrow, but he looks a little less ready to kill Matthew on the spot. “Well, obviously. How else would I have any powers?”

“I don’t know, I guess I thought maybe you were born with them!” Matthew defends, but the reaction is not what he expects. Hanbin looks at him strangely, then seems confused, before his expression dips into realization.

“You don’t know,” he simply says. The change makes Matthew uncomfortable.

“Know what?”

Hanbin hesitates, looking as though he is at war with himself for a moment. “Take that off,” he says, pointing to the wristband.

“I can’t, they’ll know if I do.”

This seems to confuse Hanbin again. “Don’t they know you’re wearing it right now anyway?”

It’s Matthew’s turn to be bewildered. “What? We’re never allowed to take them off.” He pauses, a thought fighting itself to the surface. “Is your friend okay?”

Hanbin stares at him, then his eyes move to the other arm. Matthew follows his gaze to see where something had hit him – a large, bloody gash can be seen through the arm of his hoodie. The sight of it seems to ebb the shock of the moment, and it suddenly hurts. A lot.

Still fighting some kind of mental battle Matthew is not privy to, Hanbin sighs, lowers the torch, turns away, turns back, and sighs again.

“Fuck. Fine. Get up.”

Matthew gets to his feet slowly while Hanbin walks past him and retrieves a knife from the floor. It has blood on it – Matthew’s blood. He had no idea what had been thrown at him.

“Come on,” Hanbin says, walking, before stopping suddenly and turning back. “I’m so fucking serious, if you’re up to something, I will kill you. I won’t go easy on you like I normally do.”

The notion that Hanbin has been ‘going easy on him’ instantly offends him, but he bites back the urge to pick that fight. “I’m not. The others don’t know I’m here.”

Hanbin gives him one last long look before walking up the nearest fire escape, two steps at a time. Matthew keeps pace, even as Hanbin gets to the top, climbs to the roof, and hops a wall. He does the entire thing without an ounce of power use being noticeable, like he does it a thousand times per day.

There’s a fire door, but Hanbin doesn’t walk through it. He steps around, up onto the ledge at the edge of the roof, then walks with utter confidence across a precariously placed wooden plank leading to another rooftop. Matthew follows, eyes on the huge drop, but all he can think about is how on earth Hanbin managed to take Hao back here. Something inside him twists with guilt. He really does hope Hao is okay.

Hanbin pulls a key from his pocket and begins unlocking the door on this rooftop.

“Is that the only way to get over here?” Matthew asks curiously, eyes trailing the intricate course.

“It is now,” Hanbin says simply, opening the door. He waits until Matthew is inside until he closes it.

It’s a long, curling metal staircase. Every step rings out loudly in the darkness, and some realization settles in Matthew that he is following Hanbin into… into where? His base? Who knows how many people are here. People that he’s spent his entire life fighting. Distantly, he wonders if he will make it out of here alive. Just because he’s survived this long… It doesn’t mean anything yet.

There’s another door at the bottom of the staircase that isn’t locked. Hanbin pushes it open and, instantly, Matthew is thrown into the last thing he expected.

It’s a home. Or, an attempt at one. A large open space, ratty but clearly cleaned to the best of someone’s ability. Only slightly questionable couches, wooden tables, a huge rug to cover the aged, crumbling floorboards. The overhead lighting is on, bathing the room in a dim warmth. Little signs of life are everywhere: a cat-themed mug on the coffee table, scattered papers, a messily strewn blanket on one of the couches.

“You live here?” Matthew asks, eyes scanning the space. “This is just a house.”

Hanbin raises an eyebrow in response. “Where else would we live?”

“I guess I expected something bigger. Foreboding?” Matthew says, shrugging.

“This isn’t some covert army operation, I’m not sure what you think we’re doing here.”

“I don’t know, domestic terrorism?”

It’s a half-joke, but a poorly timed one. Matthew came in with questions, realizing he felt out of the loop, but everything he’s seen has just left him more and more lost. The way Hanbin visibly steels himself in response to his comment just gives him even more questions.

“People don’t listen to reason,” Hanbin says, looking resolute. “Or polite requests. This is my only option unless I want to sit back and let them treat the ones I love like they’re lesser.”

“I get we’re overworked, but they don’t treat us that badly,” Matthew argues.

Hanbin’s expression changes, and not for the first time Matthew feels a little nervous being here alone. “Overworked? Overworked? Fine, I can’t speak for you or your little group. But I can speak for mine. Overworked doesn’t cut it. We were treated like machines and weapons, not like people. You don’t know the things they made us do, so don’t pretend you do.”

He seems to calm a little, but his face still looks annoyed. When he continues walking, Matthew is forced to awkwardly follow behind him.

“Sorry,” he says, but it feels weak in the face of the conflict. He isn’t even sure what exactly he’s apologizing for outside of simply making Hanbin angry. “I didn’t mean to say the wrong thing.”

“It’s fine,” Hanbin says, and he seems genuine enough about it. “Well, obviously it isn’t, but how could you know? I guess it’s a good thing that they’re treating you guys alright.”

The strange ambiance, the comforting home instead of some fortress, Hanbin’s almost-friendliness, it all feels like Matthew has stepped into an alternate universe. His mind swims with new information and thoughts that he simply doesn’t have the time to explore right now.

Hanbin looks at his arm again, and huffs out a breath. “I guess they’ll know that’s new if we stitch it up. We’ll have to use Jiwoong.”

Matthew blinks. “Huh?”

Instead of explaining, Hanbin walks to a set of large double doors and pushes them open. It seems to be a big kitchen, blinds pulled tight over the windows, a large dining table, and sat at it is a man Matthew doesn’t recognize, and – Hao, looking no worse for wear.

“Do me a favor Jiwoong,” Hanbin says to the man, and his voice is far softer than Matthew has ever heard it. “We’ll talk properly later, just don’t ask too many questions right now, please?”

Jiwoong nods, eyes drifting to Matthew but without any discernible emotion in them.

Hanbin turns and exits the room, leaving Matthew standing awkwardly with Jiwoong and Hao. He’s never met Jiwoong, and the last time he met Hao – well, he almost killed him.

“You can come sit,” Jiwoong says unexpectedly.

“Ah, um, okay.” Matthew slots himself into a seat at the table. Neither of them seem particularly hostile. If anything, Jiwoong at least looks rather friendly. There are cups of something on the table, tea or coffee maybe, and Hao is staring into his like it’s incredibly interesting.

“Here,” Jiwoong says, then reaches out and takes his arm. He carefully rolls back the hoodie material covering the cut, then ghosts his fingers across it effortlessly and the skin rapidly sews itself shut beneath his touch. It’s an incredibly strange feeling, like something crawling beneath Matthew’s skin. Not painful, but it’s definitely the itchiest he’s ever felt. He gawks.

“It wasn’t big enough to need that,” Hao snaps. “We said no more little injuries.”

“It was nothing, I don’t even feel it,” Jiwoong says calmly, and gives Hao an endearing smile that Matthew did not expect on his stern face. Hao huffs, annoyed, but doesn’t continue arguing.

“You can just do that?” Matthew says in wonder. He brushes across the skin with his hand and it feels perfectly smooth. There is no sign anything was ever wrong with it. Jiwoong did have a power. One that was not revealed to them. He wonders why.

“The bigger the fix, the more it knocks me out,” Jiwoong explains. “Hao came in half-dead last month. I slept for a whole week. It definitely has its limitations. If he’d lost much more blood, there wouldn’t have been anything even I could do.”

The elephant in the room does not avoid itself for long. Guilt and nerves feel like living things in Matthew’s stomach, and he isn’t sure what the right thing to say is.

“I know words probably don’t mean anything, but I really, really didn’t mean for you to get hurt,” Matthew says to Hao. “Especially not like that. I’m sorry.”

Hao’s face is hard to read, but he doesn’t grab the nearest knife and fling himself across the table at Matthew, which is frankly more than he deserves.

“It’s a risk. Things happen,” he says, avoiding eye contact. “I know you let us go, so. I believe you.” He then leans slightly to the side to loop his arm through Jiwoong’s. “I’m holding a far more significant grudge towards someone who nearly killed themselves patching me up.”

“I was fine,” Jiwoong argues, then yelps as Hao tugs on his arm hard enough to near-knock him out of his seat. It makes them both laugh, and Matthew absorbs the way the expression looks on both of their faces. It isn’t something he sees too often on new people.

The domesticity and general amiability being shown to Matthew is confusing him, but he has so many questions by now that he struggles to voice any.

“Do you want tea?” Jiwoong offers him. Matthew nods, mostly just so he’ll have something to do with his hands, and soon has a mug placed in front of him. It doesn’t smell like the tea he knows, something sweet and floral. “I hope you like honey.”

Matthew has no idea if he likes honey, but the tea is by far the best drink he’s ever tasted.

The kitchen door reopens and Hanbin walks in, looking incredibly stressed but still carefully held together. It’s a strange sight on him; Matthew is far more used to his loose confidence and teasing remarks. Something about him looks serious now. Weighted.

“Well,” he says, taking a seat. “Talk.”

Jiwoong gets up again to put a cup of tea in front of Hanbin, who shakes his head. Jiwoong’s eyes narrow, prompting Hanbin to sigh and pull the mug closer.

“Um,” Matthew starts eloquently. He’s sat at a dining table with three powered individuals he’s been fighting for months. They’re drinking honey tea. It feels like some joke scenario he’s not in on. “I don’t know where to start. Uh, what were you doing at the construction site? You said I wouldn’t… I don’t know.”

“They were building another main facility building there,” Hanbin says, like that even answers his question.

“Well, of course? What do you have against the facility? You’re always breaking into their sub-bases for information, too. I don’t get it.”

Hanbin looks at him thoughtfully. “Don’t you think it’s weird that they just send you off to do things? Do they update you with information while you’re out?”

“No, but–”

“We didn’t even break the crane, by the way. That would have been way too risky. Frankly, it could have killed us . It’s obvious that they’re using us as training,” Hanbin says, nodding to himself. He’s speaking his thoughts so quickly that Matthew is feeling left behind. He needs a whole day to process every single sentence. “They give you no real help. If they wanted us dead, they could do it within an hour.”

“That makes no sense,” Matthew argues, mind reeling. “They’re sending us in because we have powers too.”

Hanbin rolls his eyes. “What, and a team of barely-more-than-kids with some B-tier powers are more efficient than a SWAT team?”

“You don’t know how many years of training we’ve been through. We are in a specialized program to develop a team for combat, investigation, infiltration–”

“Can’t you think for yourself?” Hanbin asks abruptly.

Matthew falters, surprised. “What? Of course I can.”

“You’re just regurgitating like an instruction manual right now. Is that what they tell you? I’m sure you don’t want to hear it, but you’re a test run. First tests are never the final model.”

Some part of Matthew bristles instinctively and wants to start this argument. Another part of him sees Jiwoong and Hao looking at him, awkward and even a little sad as though he’s completely clueless, and suddenly feels small.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Matthew says firmly, and it’s the truth. A test run. Whatever that means.

“The gravity thing? You’re basically an alternate version of me.”

That makes Matthew frown. “What do you mean?”

“Your power? It doesn’t seem that far from what I can do,” Hanbin says, sitting back with mug in hand. “A variation. Some alternate test. Or an improvement.”

“An improvement? But you said you go easy on me!” Matthew blurts.

Hanbin smirks, and finally looks a little like the Hanbin that Matthew is used to. “I do. I’ve had a lot more practical practice than you have. And I’m not being micromanaged all the time.”

The Hanbin that Matthew is used to, and therefore the one he finds himself rolling his eyes at.

“I just don’t get what you’re suggesting. None of it adds up.”

Hanbin sits up a little taller and his face turns serious again. “You came here to talk, right? To ask questions? Well I’m giving you the answers. You know nothing. Your power does not make you special. You are not important to the facility. They may treat you a little nicer because they are trying to make a team, but the moment they’re done with you–”

Suddenly, Matthew’s wristband lights up to signal an incoming message. The reaction is instant, the entire table tenses – Hanbin twofold. He can’t check the message without his location being tracked by use of his wristband.

“You need to go,” Hanbin says with finality, and Matthew silently agrees, suddenly full of nerves. Without the chit-chat and arguing, the reality of exactly where he is and what he is doing settles back into him, and he stands up as soon as Hanbin does.

“It was nice to meet you,” Jiwoong says politely, like Matthew hasn’t been his direct enemy for the past several months. The half-finished cup of tea sits on the table like a message Matthew should understand better. Maybe he does and he just doesn’t want to think about it right now.

Hanbin leads him back the way they came in without a word.

“If you tell them where we are, I’ll make sure you regret it,” Hanbin says, and the threat is so calm that it takes Matthew a second to process.

“Who’s that?” someone asks. Hanbin falls to a quick stop and Matthew nearly bumps into him.

Someone is poking their head through one of the doorways, looking curious. He looks younger than any of them.

“Go back to bed Yujin, we’ll talk later,” Hanbin says, and the boy huffs but does as he is told.

When Hanbin starts walking again, Matthew follows.

“Are there many of you here?” he asks.

“You’ve now met all of us,” Hanbin says, and Matthew stumbles on the first step of the staircase.

“That’s it? There’s four of you?”

“This isn’t some covert army operation,” Hanbin repeats. Four of them? He was expecting an organization or something. Then again, he was also expecting an actual base and not some little patchwork house.

“I’ve never seen him with you before. What does he do?”

Hanbin, waiting at the top of the staircase, instantly looks troubled. “He doesn’t like using his power, and I’m not bringing him out when he’s just some defenseless teenager. Don’t bring that up around him, I hear enough about that as it is.”

“What’s his power?” Matthew asks curiously.

“You can ask him sometime, not me.”

Matthew thinks on that while Hanbin unlocks the door.

“So he isn’t involved at all?”

Hanbin holds the door and looks at him – really looks at him – contemplatively for a moment, as though making a decision. Whatever he sees, he must be content with it because his guard visibly loosens a little again.

“How do you think I always have the pass codes?”

Matthew’s walk home is an unsettling one. His mind swims with contradictory thoughts and unmade choices. Despite his best efforts, he can’t seem to compartmentalize any of them, and he’s back at the facility before he’s even figured out exactly how he feels beyond confused .

It started raining while he was in Hanbin’s base. Hanbin’s… home? It’s only a light drizzle now, but the ground is damp and the uneven patches of asphalt have collected puddles that reflect the humming streetlights.

Once he’s back inside the dorm, he opens his message.

Gunwook: can’t sleep tonight.. want to train a bit? :P

Matthew lets out a breath and feels most of the nervousness dissipate with it.

Matthew: was just there myself, sorry!! need to sleep a bit. next time :)

──★ ˙

If years of playing one single game on repeat have taught Matthew anything, it’s that button mashing is the master key to winning.

He knocks Taerae out after an unnecessarily long fight, and the screen offers him a rewarding ‘winner !’

Instantly, the room devolves into chaos.

Gyuvin starts cheering. Taerae is protesting loudly and throws his controller on the floor. Someone is shaking Matthew by his shoulders. Gunwook jumps to his feet and lifts the entire coffee table above his head, and Taerae doesn’t even tell him off.

“Guess you’ll be cleaning the dorms a little extra for the next three months, huh?” Matthew says casually, sitting back on the couch.

“There’s no way!” Taerae objects. “You have never beaten me! You cheated!”

“Says the guy who uses his illusions to distract the opposition!”

Any sense of mature Taerae flies out the window. He leaps across the couch and Matthew screeches as he’s knocked back and captured in a childish squabble. Fingers dig into his ribs and he starts yelling and kicking his legs to free himself. Abruptly, the weight disappears from him and Gunwook stands holding Taerae up from under his arms.

“This place is a nightmare!” Taerae snaps, but all potential malice is lost when he’s stuck kicking his legs mid-air like a small dog.

“Give it up, Taerae. You’re no longer the reigning champion,” Matthew says.

“Watch your back, Matthew! You will experience no peace for the next three months if I have any say in it!”

“This team is so dysfunctional, no wonder we never get anything done,” Ricky says quietly, watching the drama unfold from a safe distance.

“Gunwook, stop wasting your energy and put me down or so help me!”

Taerae is set back on his feet. He doesn’t resort back to violence, but he does shoot Matthew a look of pure suspicion and danger that Matthew simply matches with a wink.

“If everyone is done bickering, I have something to ease the hostility,” Gyuvin says.

He leaves them to go into his room and returns holding something small.

“I’m not sure how well this will work, but maybe you can test it and let me know if I need to change anything,” he says, and sets a pair of glasses in Matthew’s hands. Maybe closer to goggles. They’re mostly metal and curved on each arm, looking like they could clip into hair for security. The glass seems to be tinted, and when Matthew lifts them up to glance through, he notices it dims the brightness of the room significantly.

“I was thinking it could be useful if you’re testing dropping longer distances,” Gyuvin adds, looking a bit shy. “You said once that it makes your eyes burn.”

Gyuvin doesn’t even know that Matthew dropped the entire full distance of the facility building a couple of days ago. The eyes comment was at least several weeks ago now. He’s surprised Gyuvin even remembered.

“Your talents are totally wasted running around with us, dude,” Matthew says, smiling. “Thank you, really. These are super cool.”

“I haven’t done something this intricate before, so I might need to make some alterations. I had to remould Gunwook’s gloves multiple times, so I don’t mind.”

“Can you create something that magically fixes nausea next?” Taerae asks, and it makes Gyuvin laugh.

“I’m good with metal, not medicine, but for you I’d try.”

──★ ˙

It’s colder tonight. Summer is on its very last legs, and the night chill shows it.

“It’s me!” Matthew whisper-shouts into the alley. He stands there shivering for ten seconds without a response. “Hanbin?”

There’s a shuffle and a stomp as Hanbin jumps from the fire escape. He looks at Matthew the way one looks at a stray cat that won’t stop turning up at your house.

“Can I come in?” Matthew asks, and hopes he doesn’t look as pathetic as he feels.

Hanbin lets out a world-weary sigh and gestures Matthew to follow him.

“Are you planning to break into anywhere or whatever again? It’s been nearly a month,” Matthew says on the staircase, and realizes how stupid the words sound as they’re coming out of his mouth.

Hanbin stops at the second door and glances behind him. “I’m not telling you that,” he says, then the corner of his mouth twitches. “Why? Do you miss me?”

For a moment, Matthew is thrown by the sudden return of Hanbin’s half-flirt-half-jokes, and Hanbin huffs a laugh before walking into the house without giving Matthew a chance to reply.

Hao is stretched comfortably across the couch doing something on a phone, and his eyes widen a fraction when he sees Matthew walk in, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Did you want to ask something?” Hanbin asks, shoving a grumbling Hao’s legs aside to sit beside him. “Or did you just miss seeing a light that wasn’t fluorescent white?”

Matthew, a little awkwardly, takes a seat on the other couch. “I wanted to know more.”

Hanbin nods, then pauses. “I actually had a question for you first. How does your wristband work? Not the data on it. Or the fingerprint scanner. I want to know why you’re always wearing it.”

“Oh, we never take them off,” Matthew says, a little surprised. “The facility is alerted if we do. And using them in any way updates our location on their system.”

Hanbin tilts his head thoughtfully. “Weird. I only wore mine when I went out. None of the other guys even had one because they never left the facility. There was also a different one we had to wear when we weren’t supposed to use our power, a little wider and without a fingerprint, that suppressed our powers entirely. It looked just like those cuffs you carry around.”

“You had your powers suppressed ? Wait, you never went outside?” Matthew says, shocked, and switches to looking at Hao. He isn’t involving himself in the conversation though, eyes still on the phone.

“The facility isn’t just a training ground for making cute little superheroes to save the world, you know,” Hanbin says, not bothering to soften his tone. “They’re a glorified lab, and we’re one of many experiments. Just another piece of facility tech. We aren’t people to them. They made us like this, and I may not know how, but whatever these powers are – they have fucked with our genetic makeup.” He stops only for a second to see if Matthew is following. “We’re tools. I wasn’t just trying to be rude when I called you a test run.”

Matthew feels something uncomfortable settle over him. His earliest memories are in the facility, he can’t imagine being anywhere else. “How do you know that?”

“Not only because of how they treated us, but because I know how many like us didn’t survive because their bodies couldn’t handle being some fucked up experiment.” Hanbin leans back, looking at him with an unreadable expression. “We’re only the first generation that worked out to any degree. Who knows how many died before us?”

“How do you know that ?”

“A lot of things over many years gave me a bad feeling,” Hanbin replies. “I broke into admin before I left. That place has a lot of skeletons in its closet. Quite literally.”

Matthew, overwhelmed, flops further into the couch. His mind whirs with information; battles with the conflict between the part of him that wants to fight it, the part of him that was raised a specific way, and the curiosity to know more – which is also telling him this is making some sense .

“Hanbin?” a voice says. Matthew looks up to see Yujin leaning out of the same room again. His room, Matthew supposes. “Can I borrow you?”

Hanbin seems content to let Matthew process and leaves right away. That is, leaves Matthew sitting alone with Hao. Whom he almost killed, and without the polite barrier of Jiwoong’s presence.

“Um,” Matthew says once Hanbin is gone.

“Please don’t do this weird, awkward thing,” Hao says, sitting up. “It’s fine, I’m fine.”

Matthew breathes out in relief. “If I can take you at your word, that’d be great. Weird and awkward is exactly how I feel right now.”

Hao half-smiles and tucks his legs up onto the couch. “You owe me a favor though, one day. A big favor.”

“Deal,” Matthew says, matching the smile. “You can almost kill me one time, to make it fair. But it has to be an accident.”

“Not quite what I was thinking when I said favor, but sure,” Hao laughs. “It’s kind of my own fault anyway. I missed something pretty dumb.”

If Matthew’s ears could perk up, they would have. “Missed something?”

“Well, yeah.” Hao begins picking at a blanket draped across the arm of the couch, then pulls it over him and starts getting comfortable. Matthew wonders when anyone in this place sleeps. “It’s my job to check in advance if something is going to go wrong, so I should have known. Hanbin didn’t even want me to come in the first place. I’m sure a tiny part of him is gratified to be proven right on it being a bad idea, even if the rest of him was having a meltdown.”

“You– I’m sorry, you can, what, see the future ?” Matthew says, stunned.

“That makes it sound ridiculous,” Hao says dryly. “I can predict how something is going to go. I’d compare it to considering all of the options and how likely they are, but just really fast. I think that’s why it gives me such bad migraines.”

“Then… How did you… Didn’t you know you were going to get hurt before?” Matthew asks. He knows it’s somewhat insensitive, but his mind is blown away by the knowledge of this power’s existence.

“I have to pick specific things,” Hao says. “Like, I normally just check if Hanbin’s plan will work out, and if he will come out of it safe. That day I was just there to check potential risks as we went, so we knew what was or wasn’t safe.”

“You didn’t think to check for yourself?”

Hao just shrugs.

He seems really smart. Maybe a little self-forgetting. Moody, but kind.

“You remind me of one of my friends,” Matthew says. “I feel like you’d get along great. But maybe also fight a lot.”

He imagines introducing Hao to Taerae. Something about that makes sense in his head. It’s too bad they are from wildly different worlds. Maybe in some other universe.

“Are you good friends if you don’t?” Hao counters.

True, Matthew thinks. His friends fight a lot. Usually silly things, inevitable when you’re in such close proximity all the time. Rarely, serious things. Taerae, always the most level-headed, ended up being the one arguing with Gyuvin when he’d started refusing to use his powers on the field, many years ago now. Even Gunwook and Matthew have had serious fights. Gunwook was never particularly careful with his body and prone to overdoing it for no reason. It used to piss Matthew off to no end.

“You guys fight a lot?” Matthew asks.

“All the time. But we’re just trying to look out for each other,” Hao says. It strikes a chord with Matthew’s memories. Different worlds maybe, but not truly all that different after all.

──★ ˙

The facility building’s roof has a beautiful view during the daytime. The skyscrapers sprawl in the distance, and the clouds are low enough today that they brush against the very tops of them.

“Jump already!” Taerae yells, but his voice is near-swallowed by the distance. The only reason Matthew hears it at all is because the facility and its surrounding forest are always entirely silent.

Taerae is sat in the facility courtyard below, Gyuvin’s head on his lap. The entire area is concrete upon concrete, wide and expansive, and walled off from the outside world by a fence and security posts that are always empty. Ricky and Gunwook are there too, but paying slightly more attention in case Matthew miraculously forgets how to use his power and cracks his head open on the ground.

“You can’t just say that to someone!” Matthew shouts back.

“Jump!” Gyuvin contributes.

So Matthew does. He’s jumped from this very roof twice now, but the others don’t know that. The wind rushes past and, since the team is all watching, he tilts himself forward into a full spin mid-air. With the goggles on, he finds he doesn’t have to close his eyes at all. He doesn’t bother catching himself part way this time, and only does so when he’s a few feet from the ground.

“Don’t do it all in one go, are you crazy?” Taerae scolds, like he wasn’t just pushing Matthew to jump ten seconds ago. “What if you got the timing wrong?”

“I would never!” Matthew brags, releasing his power and dropping onto his feet.

“I’m not cleaning your gross goop off the ground when you turn yourself into a pulp one day.”

Matthew rolls his eyes. “They work great, Gyuvin. I think they could afford to be a little bit tighter. If I can’t control the angle I’m falling, I could see them being a bit loose.”

Gyuvin salutes silently from where he’s laying.

“Let’s go again,” Matthew says, and Ricky sets up a portal on the concrete to take him back up to the roof.

It’s sort of a pointless exercise to sit there redoing, but they waste away at least an hour by testing different jumping angles, by having someone push Matthew off, and even by having Gunwook throw him as hard as physically possible up into the air – which ends up being significantly taller than the facility building, and has Matthew screeching as he’s in the air and Taerae freaking out once he’s back on the ground. But they so rarely get to just spend extended time together being stupid, and the alternative is boring basement training, so they make the most of it.

“Do you think I could throw you across the entire courtyard?” Gunwook asks excitedly, and Taerae bans the idea instantly.

──★ ˙

“Oh, they let you have games?”

Jiwoong is looking at him curiously. His room is pretty small, but has space for a double bed and generally feels cozy. There are no personal touches outside of a pile of books, some paintbrushes, and a lot of frankly impressive paintings pinned to the walls. Yujin is sitting on the bed in silence, pretending he isn’t listening to the conversation.

“Well,” Matthew says. “We have a game. It’s a really old one, it’s on one of those consoles you have to plug in and use the little button controllers for.” He mimics using the controller to support his explanation. “We also have a board game, but we’ve had it forever and are missing too many pieces to play it anymore. And a pack of cards.”

“We recently figured out how to get phones to message each other, but they’re also pretty old. They don’t even have hologram integration,” Jiwoong says.

“Maybe you can steal Hanbin’s tablet. I bet that runs some good games,” Matthew says mostly to Yujin, and narrows his eyes like he’s plotting.

“He’d get in serious trouble. Hanbin keeps literally everything on there, all of the stuff we’ve been collecting for years,” Jiwoong laughs, glancing over at Yujin.

That makes Matthew pause. He’s always seen Hanbin carry his tablet around, but he’d never thought of how much important information was stored on there.

“What do you need all that information for?” Matthew asks.

“To figure out how to take down the facility, obviously,” Yujin says suddenly, like that doesn’t completely shake Matthew’s long-term view of what Hanbin has been doing.

Hanbin and his group have been trying to take down the facility. It isn’t senseless havoc. They have a plan and a target. With what he’s been learning, it makes sense, but having it laid out so plainly gives Matthew a shock.

“Careful that they don’t figure out you know this stuff,” Yujin says casually, finally glancing over. “They might try to get it out of you. Which one of you guys has to do that? Can they even do that without a healing power?”

Matthew wants to ask Yujin what he means by that, but is cut off by a knock at the door. Hanbin pokes his head in and gestures to call Matthew out, leaving the other two alone.

Hao is standing in the living space, looking resigned. Perhaps Hanbin is planning something and he’s here to use his power.

“You keep coming back, so I have to ask… Do you understand what we’ve been doing?” Hanbin asks.

“Yeah, I’m starting to get it,” Matthew says slowly, switching his eyes between the two.

“So you’d consider helping a little?” Hanbin continues, and realization hits Matthew. Hard. “If you knew with complete confidence that it was going to go fine?”

“Damn it, Hanbin.” Matthew really does not want to get involved, but the worst part is that he already knows he will. Hanbin almost looks apologetic, but his determination overrides it.

“I want to ask you for a really big favor.”

──★ ˙

The dorm is silent at night. The walls are too thick for any noise to slip through, and basically everything in there is digitalized, even the clocks.

When Matthew climbs into the vent, he swears he hears a noise behind him. Quickly, he jumps back out and glances around, but the dorm looks just as empty as it did before. His nervousness must be making him seriously antsy.

Tracking a new path through the vents is more than a little terrifying. He was forced to memorize the path in advance, unable to risk using his wristband in any location he isn’t expected to be in. Getting caught could mean… Honestly, he has no idea. His palms are sweaty, but he’s always been good at swallowing down his fear.

Matthew removes the vent in the admin room silently. It’s empty. He wishes he’d asked Hanbin more about how exactly the security works in these places, because it’s entirely devoid of people or cameras, and yet he strongly doubts it’s anything less than excessively protected. Granted, any input from Hanbin would likely be sorely outdated, if their wildly differing experiences of this building mean anything.

The entire facility is likely highly protected against outside forces, but there have been no signs that Matthew and his group’s powers were even considered in its security. After all, they have access to detailed maps of the entire building, and there’s nothing stopping Ricky from moving them to any room. They’ve given them no reason to distrust them, he supposes. Or, facility staff have given them no chances to consider any alternative to obedience.

The admin room is smaller than he expected. Some childish part of him expected rows of desks with computers, but perhaps that would take away from the security element.

It’s a room with wall-to-wall screens aside from the entryway; the wide desks themselves are control panels, mostly also made up of screens displaying information in a way that reminds him of a hologram if it were against a flat surface. There are only six chairs, and every screen has been left on. When Matthew steps closer, he sees that it’s excessive quantities of data. Temperatures by room, live fingerprint scanner input, maps of each floor, ghoulishly green camera footage set to the courtyard outside of the building. None of it is being monitored overnight, so Matthew wonders if this room is even frequently used, or if all of this is accessed elsewhere. If they have such useful wristbands, it wouldn’t surprise him if higherups did too.

I just used my fingerprint to get in, Hanbin had said. I knew I was going to leave, so it didn’t matter.

But Matthew isn’t planning on going anywhere. Any sign that he’s been in here and he’s utterly screwed. Not to mention they’re likely not so lax about the fingerprint system anymore.

He takes out the old camera he was given and takes pictures of anything and everything, as requested. The entire system and its compartments, even the different programs running on each screen. Part of him wonders what the hell he is doing and how he got here, but a louder part of him says he needs to go drop the camera back off while it’s still night, and hopefully get at least a nap in before scheduled training.

Jiwoong is the one that lets him in this time. It makes Matthew wonder if they operate on some kind of lookout rota, or whether Hanbin is just off causing some problems the facility isn’t privy to.

“Give it to Yujin,” Jiwoong says. “I’ll wait outside.” He gives Matthew a kind pat on the back and disappears through the door, leaving Matthew standing awkwardly in the living space with the one person he has yet to talk to properly.

Yujin is lounging on the couch with a laptop on his legs. He’s absentmindedly sipping what looks to be strawberry milk with one hand and tapping away at his keyboard with the other. It’s an interesting sight. Matthew offers him the camera, and he puts down his milk to take it without comment.

“You look pretty young, how old are you?” Matthew asks.

Yujin instantly looks grumpy. “I’m sixteen, I’m not some baby.”

Matthew lifts his hands placatingly. “Hey, sixteen feels like twenty years ago to me.”

“Comes with the program I guess,” Yujin says, eyes back on his laptop. Matthew takes on a seat on the other couch and glances over curiously, unsure if he’s allowed to pry.

“I’d rather you ask than just stare,” Yujin adds, looking up.

Slightly unsettled by the perceptiveness, Matthew sits up. “What are you doing? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Hanbin had implied Yujin was the one responsible for… their strange bank of knowledge? Matthew has always wondered how Hanbin seems to know so much. The idea of this fresh-faced teenager being the one responsible for it seems absurd. He’s quite literally drinking strawberry milk.

“Getting more information, obviously.”

Matthew blinks. “What, like hacking?”

Yujin looks at him like he’s stupid. “Hacking into the most highly secure database in the entire world? Yeah, right.”

“I don’t know how hacking works!”

“Clearly.”

Matthew feels a bit bullied by the kid, and the pathetic expression must be plastered all over his face because Yujin sighs and puts the camera down.

“Actually getting into a system that secure would be impossible, even if I was some kind of genius. It’s easier to go the spyware route. Get info on the people that work there, and blackmail information out of them.”

“Blackmail?” Matthew echoes, astonished.

“I wanted as many pictures of the admin room as possible so I can work my way backwards. I bet very few people have access to the real useful information. No way they have it on the same general fingerprint access system anymore after what Hanbin did.”

With that, Yujin goes back to flipping through the pictures, looking bored. This kid was seriously smart, and it made Matthew feel pretty stupid. He survives all of ten seconds before his curiosity gets the better of him.

“Hey, can I ask what your power is? I’ve heard you don’t use it.”

He was expecting more of a reaction, but Yujin doesn’t seem particularly upset or angry. “I can fuck with people’s heads pretty bad,” he says.

“Huh. In what way?”

“Do you know what you’re most afraid of?” Yujin asks instead, looking up.

Matthew thinks on it. He’s never liked enclosed spaces, but he had that trained out of him pretty young. He was scared of needles, but he’s had his blood taken enough that he can deal with it. He’s never been afraid of getting hurt, it comes with the job. Abruptly, he thinks of the first time Ricky lost a limb. Of Gyuvin’s reaction every time he accidentally hurts Ricky. Of Taerae and Gunwook, struggling from overexertion nearly every day.

“Probably my friends getting hurt,” Matthew replies. “Especially when I can’t do anything.”

“I could make that happen,” Yujin says. “In here.” He taps the side of his head.

“Like an illusion for one person?” Matthew asks, thinking of Taerae.

“I guess so. It doesn’t have to make any sense though. More like a nightmare. And for as long as I want, too. It never tires me out or anything.”

Matthew blinks in surprise. “I’ve never heard of a power having no consequences.”

“I don’t know. Imagine doing that to people, I’d say it has consequences,” Yujin says, and he finally looks a little reserved at the topic. Matthew is briefly disoriented by his maturity and calm nature.

You’re young, he thinks. But you don’t act like it.

“You left with the others?” he asks.

“Me and Jiwoong worked in the same sector, so we got pretty close. I didn’t know about any plans to leave until he told me.”

“Wait, you guys didn’t live together?” Matthew says, confused. He’s been living with his friends in their dorm for almost as long as he can remember.

“Nah, we were kept separate,” Yujin says. “You guys aren’t?”

Matthew shakes his head, troubled. He couldn’t imagine how much harder his life would be without the company of his friends. Taerae fetching them dinner from the kitchens, Gunwook always taking care of him despite being younger, Gyuvin crawling into his bed after a particularly difficult day, Ricky playing silly games with him in their free time.

“Lucky. I’d still much rather be here though.”

A warmly lit home. Carpets on the floor. Strawberry milk and honey in tea, apparently. It’s no wonder. A small part of Matthew feels the same, but he doesn’t think he could handle having a huge target on his back the way these guys do.

He wonders when he started becoming so empathetic to people he’s supposed to be fighting. When he started spending so much time here.

“I should go,” he says. For a moment he thinks Yujin won’t acknowledge it.

“Um,” Yujin says when Matthew stands up. “You can come back whenever you want. The others are too old. They get boring.” He hesitates, then adds, “Thanks for the pictures.”

Matthew bites back a smile. “Of course.”

──★ ˙

“Have you ever seen a movie?” Hanbin asks him the moment he’s in the door.

Matthew falters. “Um, no. Why?”

“We’re watching one for Yujin’s birthday, come in, quick.”

Hanbin gestures him to follow and Matthew trails after. ‘Come in, quick’ doesn’t make much sense when Hanbin was hovering outside right as Matthew got here. For a silly moment, Matthew wonders if they were waiting for him. It wouldn’t make any sense.

Hao, Jiwoong, and Yujin are crammed onto one couch beneath the same blanket. Hao and Yujin look to be trying to squabble about something, but Jiwoong has placed himself in between like a buffer.

“You guys have birthdays?” Matthew asks, confused.

“Well, we made them up, but yeah. Gives you something to look forward to. And lets you plan fun things for each other when their day comes up.”

His confusion dissipates instantly. It’s an idea he wishes he could take back to his own friends.

“I’m gonna make tea,” Hanbin tells them, and Jiwoong unknits himself from the pile to go help. It’s interesting to Matthew how often tea and coffee are handed around in this house. Back at the facility, hot drinks are something they can only have before field work in the winter.

“Happy unofficial birthday,” he says to Yujin, who snorts.

“That’s an official birthday to you. And to think you came without a present.”

“For starters, I didn’t know it was your birthday. Secondly, I’ve never experienced a birthday in my life, what kind of present do you think I could give you?”

Yujin seems to ponder this, then comes up empty. “Yeah, true. I don’t particularly want anything from your creepy ass home.”

“The building may be boring, but our dorms are not creepy! We have a rug!” Matthew argues, and the comment makes Hao start laughing.

“Sure,” Yujin says, not looking as though he believes it.

Matthew tucks himself into the other couch with his feet up, and is surprised by how comfortable he feels being here. To think he walked in shaking like a leaf once. Not that he’d have admitted that.

“This place is great, I’m shocked you ever found it,” he says, eyes trailing the old wallpaper. He can see where someone has poorly attempted to glue up the parts that were peeling.

“Yeah, it’s nice. Hanbin picked it out. He does a really good job of taking care of us.”

Matthew’s eyes drift to the kitchen doors, left ajar. He can hear laughter seeping through the gap. “Does anyone take care of him?”

“Jiwoong does. Or, he tries. Hanbin is a pretty headstrong guy. There’s only so much you can do,” Yujin says.

Part of Matthew wants to ask more, but Hanbin and Jiwoong are coming back into the room carrying mugs. Jiwoong nudges Hanbin with his hip, and when some of the drinks nearly find their way onto the floor, receives the most dangerous glare Matthew has ever seen on Hanbin’s face.

The mug he’s handed is shaped like a hedgehog, but two of the spikes are broken off. It’s the same kind of tea he had here before. He sits there soaking up the warmth and the smell, not knowing when he’ll get a chance to have it again.

Hanbin sits next to him, and the strangeness strikes Matthew all over again. He tries really hard not to stare, but such a domestic scene with Hanbin of all people is just too odd for him to have entirely gotten over yet.

Matthew was honest when he said he’d never seen a movie. He knows of them, sure, but they don’t have any in the dorms. It’s some feel good animated thing about a dog that he finds himself ridiculously invested in within the first few minutes. It seems like Yujin already knows the movie well, but he spends the entire time commenting like it’s his first watch anyway.

A rush of drowsiness overtakes Matthew, something between the soft, golden lighting and warm drink in his stomach. He tries to keep his focus on the movie – he really is invested – but finds it lazily drifting.

He doesn’t even realize he’s fallen asleep until someone is gently shaking him awake. He blinks the sleep from his eyes and sees it’s Jiwoong.

“I felt bad waking you up, but I know you probably need to get back while it’s still night,” he whispers.

“How long was I asleep?” Matthew asks. The TV screen is blank and everyone is knocked out. His legs are tangled with Hanbin’s, and he’s careful to unthread them without waking him up.

“Not long. I’ll let you out.”

Jiwoong waves him off cheerfully, and the instant contrast from the sleepy, cozy home to the cold darkness outside is a shock. He longs to creep right back into his spot on the couch to sleep until morning, but he knows it isn’t an option.

When he crawls back into his dorm bed that night, the longing hits even harder. The uncomfortably firm mattress, the scratchy sheets, the strange chill in the air that carries its way through the entire facility building. Suddenly, after a lifetime of calling this home, it doesn’t quite feel right anymore.

Something in him hurts, and he wants to go sneak into one of his friends’ beds to ebb the feeling, but knows he shouldn’t wake them up. Instead, he scrunches his eyes shut, and replays the movie in his head until sleep takes him.

──★ ˙

His plan is step-by-step simple, but Matthew still can’t shake the constant anxiety that now lives within him. He is forced to accept it as a new part of his life. It isn’t just when he’s actively doing something nerve wracking; it follows him everywhere, through every basic fieldwork mission and every training session, all the way from morning until bed.

He isn’t sure whether that means he’s afraid of the risks, or simply afraid he’s doing the wrong thing.

Matthew has spent the last three nights drawing out elaborate plans of the entire facility building in his notebook by using the holograms in his wristband. He has marked every important room, every vent, every camera, on every floor. His last goal is simply to path the routes between the warehouses and how they connect back.

He’s forced to rely on his own crudely drawn maps on his walk across the city. The idea is that Hanbin will do half and they’ll meet in the middle with a comprehensive map in a shorter timespan. Frankly, he still isn’t sure how the communication devices work, but Hanbin has summarized it enough that he knows they are linked to the wristbands. They help generate live maps – likely why Taerae couldn’t provide them maps for specific areas, since Hanbin had already dismantled some – and help track locations based on wristband use. Learning that one fact had Matthew hoping Hanbin got rid of the others without too much hassle.

Matthew stops after two hours to skim through his notebook. Ideally, he should be done soon. There is only one more warehouse on this side of the river, then he can cross the bridge and meet up with Hanbin.

He’s in the more neglected half of the city by now. It’s always hushed here like someone put pause to the entire area, the only sound being the distant hum of the highway several blocks away. When it’s this quiet, it feels like a ghost town. A creepy thought when the rest of the city is bustling even at night. Granted, he has been here during the day and it has its fair share of pedestrians then.

Matthew climbs up a fire escape to track his way across the rooftops, feeling a little lost when so many of the street lights don’t work. The view reaches out in front of him, echoing the same endless pattern of dark, indiscernible shapes in the cold night. Some of the buildings are connected by what look to be a pattern of strangely shaped beams, and when he approaches he realizes it’s some kind of fallen tower. A radio tower, maybe. It’s unlikely that anyone lives in these buildings when the structure has crushed large dents into varying floors that nobody has ever bothered to fix.

He hops onto one of the beams experimentally. It feels stable enough to walk across.

It’s right near the end of his pathing that the beam creaks loudly, before switching to a long, metallic groaning that reminds him forebodingly of the crane at the construction site. He feels it give way beneath his right foot as it snaps under his weight. He’s too far from the next building, so he allows the fall to take him and catches his own gravity. A chunk of metal just misses his head, and there’s a short noise of panic behind him.

He tries to spin quickly to look, but it’s near-impossible to maneuver that fast in low gravity. He scrabbles at the remaining structure to anchor himself and looks back, but can’t see anyone. The street below plunges into darkness he can’t glimpse through, but he can hear the sound of bits of metal scattering across the asphalt.

Matthew drops his power and catches himself again before he hits the ground. Someone is stumbling weakly to their feet amidst the wreckage. Was he being followed? Did someone at the facility see him leave? Did he–

“Ricky?” Matthew says, dumbfounded, because he wasn’t just being followed by anyone. He was being followed by Ricky.

Ricky is breathing heavily, hand coming up to feel below his collarbone. Matthew notices the large chunk of metal embedded into the skin, and Ricky promptly tugs the metal out before Matthew can so much as protest. It comes away covered in blood.

“Where do you keep sneaking off to?” Ricky breathes, and instantly starts wobbling like he can’t hold himself up. Matthew rushes to support him, and is alarmed to see how much he is bleeding; his own hand comes away completely coated.

“Ricky? Ricky!” Matthew repeats as his friend’s knees crumble and he starts to look a little zoned out. “Fuck!” he hisses, shoving his head into his free hand. Think, think.

A thought hits him. A terrible one. He looks down at Ricky, blinking blearily like he isn’t even sure where he is anymore. What choice does he have?

He leans close to scoop Ricky up, who groans in protest. It’s difficult even with the lightness of his metal limb replacements, but he’s too scared of messing with Ricky’s gravity when he’s this hurt. Quickly, he makes his way along a path that has now become all-too-familiar.

“Hanbin?” he calls, staring up at the fire escape. It’s too dark to see anything.

“Matthew?”

Someone hops down, and it isn’t Hanbin. His common sense clicks back into place. Hanbin was out mapping.

Yujin clicks on his torch and looks at them curiously.

“I need help,” Matthew whispers, and is surprised by how quickly he feels like he’s going to cry. They’ve all gotten hurt plenty, especially Ricky, but something about the situation feels so messed up that he has to bite back his emotions.

Yujin looks at Ricky, then back up to Matthew. “Can you get him up okay?”

Matthew nods, and follows Yujin all the way to his home. Reluctantly, he is forced to lighten Ricky to get him over some difficult areas of the path.

“Put him there,” Yujin says once they’re inside, gesturing to the couch. Matthew does as he is told and checks Ricky’s pulse. It seems okay, but his skin is chilled and clammy.

“Move.”

Matthew looks up and sees Yujin has brought Jiwoong. Rapidly, Matthew scoots away so his back is against the other couch, and Jiwoong takes his place. Wasting no time, Jiwoong rests a hand against Ricky’s chest and closes his eyes.

They stay that way for a minute, the silence of the room palpable. Eventually, Yujin says, “This will probably take quite a while. Do you want a drink?”

Matthew shakes his head, but still finds a hot coffee placed in his hands several minutes later. Yujin scoots in next to him on the floor, and neither of them say another word.

──★ ˙

When Matthew wakes up, Yujin is gone and there is a blanket draped across him. He blinks himself fully awake, stretching the pain out of his back, and nearly jumps out of his skin when he notices Hanbin sitting on the coffee table, eyes on Ricky.

“Is he okay?” Matthew blurts, and Hanbin turns to look at him.

“He will be,” Hanbin says.

Matthew lets out a heavy breath, feeling some of the stress finally melt out of him.

“You’ve put me in a weird position,” Hanbin says slowly, and Matthew knows it. The guilt seeps into him quickly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go,” Matthew says quietly, and this seems to strike some kind of chord in Hanbin, as his gaze softens and he turns back to looking at Ricky.

They sit in silence for some time, and Matthew is forced to stew in feelings that have become all-too-familiar recently. Guilt, shame, a general feeling of simple wrongness.

“I wish there was anything I could do these days that didn’t feel like the wrong thing,” Matthew admits into the still room. “Every choice feels like a mistake, but I know choosing the alternative wouldn’t be right either. I just want to help people without feeling guilty doing it.”

Hanbin is looking at him differently, an expression difficult to decipher, but that at least tells Matthew he took the words to heart.

“You just want to do what’s best for everyone,” Hanbin says, voice gentle. “There is no guilt in that. You’ve always walked around looking bright, and you should try not to lose that when faced with how difficult the world can really be.”

Matthew is taken aback by both the compliment and the insightful perspective. “Is it possible not to lose some of yourself when things are changing?”

“Probably not,” Hanbin says. “But there are some parts of yourself you should try to hold onto.”

Hanbin sits with him for some more time in the quiet. It isn’t until almost an hour later that Ricky begins to stir.

“Ricky?” Matthew says, jumping to his feet. Hanbin stands up and steps back from the table so Matthew has space to lean over his slowly waking friend.

Ricky’s eyes scan the room, disoriented, before settling on Matthew.

“Where…?” he says slowly, before his eyes move to Hanbin. He freezes for the shortest moment, before recovering fast enough that it could have been imagined.

“We need to go home,” Matthew says softly. Ricky looks down at his chest and runs a hand across where his injury was – perfectly smooth, untouched skin beneath his torn shirt.

“Okay,” he says simply.

Matthew’s fear for Ricky’s life is rapidly replaced with anxiety over the choice he made. Still, he helps his friend up and neither say anything more. Ricky does not once look back at Hanbin, and Hanbin himself does not utter a word as he lets them out. Matthew guides them all the way back up the stairs and along the path to the alleyway, then starts walking them home. It’s early morning, just around sunrise. How long were they knocked out?

The silence carries the entire way home and into the dorms. How long have you noticed me leaving? Matthew wants to ask. How did you follow me? Did you tell anyone? Will you tell anyone?

He doesn’t feel he can ask anything when the questions Ricky could respond with are a thousand times heavier.

They aren’t in the dorm for more than five seconds before Taerae’s door opens.

“Oh! I was wondering where you guys were this early. Training?” he asks, water bottle in hand.

Matthew feels his breath catch in his throat, but Ricky just hums in affirmative.

“Probably need a nap,” he says, and Taerae nods.

“Me too,” Matthew says quickly, chest feeling tight. He needs some time to process before he bursts into tears he can’t explain in front of Taerae.

“This dorm is full of lazy people,” Taerae jokes, and Matthew avoids looking at him on the way to his room.

──★ ˙

“–just isn’t fair!”

Matthew falls to a stop in the doorway and Jiwoong nearly walks right into him.

“You guys stay here,” Hanbin says firmly. “None of you are made for combat.”

“No!” Yujin protests. “You need us!”

“Jiwoong is a healer, you refuse to use your powers, and Hao couldn’t even hide in a corner without nearly dying last time!” Hanbin says, voice raising.

“We’re a family!” Yujin says, fists clenched. “We look out for each other!”

Hanbin stills. Matthew can’t see his face from here, and wonders what he’s thinking.

Jiwoong rests a hand on his shoulder. “It’s fine,” he whispers, and Matthew nods in acknowledgement. He’s never seen any of them fight, and wouldn’t even have been able to imagine seeing it happen between Yujin and Hanbin.

“I know you want to look after us, but we need to look after you too!” Yujin continues. “It doesn’t matter that we aren’t built to fight like you! Jiwoong is strong, Hao is smart, I’ll use my power if I have to! Stop trying to do everything by yourself!”

Yujin promptly turns and disappears into his room, the door slamming behind him. Hanbin sighs wearily and turns around.

“I’ll take next watch,” he says simply. Matthew moves out of Jiwoong’s way to let him through, hesitates, then starts following Hanbin up back up the stairs. He doesn’t say anything, so Matthew assumes he doesn’t mind.

Hanbin settles on the edge of the roof above the fire escape, and Matthew comes to sit beside him. For a bit, they wait in silence, and Matthew is content to let Hanbin brew in his thoughts.

“It’s never easy,” Hanbin says eventually, and Matthew looks over.

Hanbin just looks so lost that the empathy in his heart reacts of its own accord. It’s a difficult thing to look at when he’s so used to smiles and snippy remarks. It feels as though he’s really gotten to know Hanbin lately; he’s serious, he’s determined, and he cares about his friends deeply.

“You’re doing the best you can for them,” Matthew finds himself saying. Hanbin turns to look back at him.

“But is it enough?” he asks quietly.

Matthew hums thoughtfully. “Maybe, maybe not. But what’s important is that you do your best, and let them do their best too. That’s all you can do.”

Hanbin snorts. “Look at you, saying poetic things. You sound like Jiwoong.”

“You say stuff like that all the time, am I not allowed to?” Matthew jokes.

“Nah. You’re supposed to fix stuff by doing that really bright smile you do, not with words.”

“My bad,” Matthew says, then gives Hanbin a comically cheerful grin. It makes Hanbin huff a laugh and lean over to shove his face away. It’s strange, for a moment, to have Hanbin touch him without the intent to fight him. Even with all the times Matthew has visited here, they’ve been fighting for so long that his body almost expects the touch to be hostile for a split second.

“It’s weird when you force it, you look silly,” Hanbin says.

“You’re the one who told me to do it.”

Hanbin rolls his eyes, then his gaze shifts back to Matthew’s. He looks contemplative, and a little soft in a way that doesn’t quite make sense.

“You’ve made my life far harder than it needed to be,” he says.

Matthew holds the eye contact, feeling oddly stuck. “I’m really good at that. Sorry.”

That makes Hanbin laugh. A real, genuine laugh, and his eyes scrunch up into little crescents. Matthew has never seen him laugh like this. It feels unusual, like seeing something he isn’t supposed to, and oddly makes him nervous despite the rushing relief to see that hopeless look washed away.

“You’re ridiculous. I can’t believe they tried to make a fighter out of you.”

“Hey, I’m great at my job!” Matthew says, affronted. “We’ve caught tons of dangerous criminals and stopped tons of illegal operations. It’s not my fault they stuck us on you guys with your weird ass powers.”

Hanbin starts laughing all over again. “I’m surprised they’re still trying with you guys considering you haven’t managed to stop us once.”

In response Matthew just shoves him, prompting Hanbin to do the same back – twice as hard. When Matthew’s weight wobbles precariously on the edge, being the true supervillain he is, Hanbin takes the chance to simply push him off.

With a screech, Matthew manages to grab a handful of Hanbin’s jacket and drag them both over. The deja vu is so intense and peculiar that he almost forgets to use his power.

Hanbin is still cackling, rotating himself mid-air like a child in zero gravity for the first time, or as best he can with Matthew’s grip on his arm. It’s all such a ridiculous sight, but Matthew can’t find it in himself to hold back a smile of his own. The alleyway is dark and foreboding beneath them, but the stars in the night sky are the brightest company.

──★ ˙

The lack of consistent sleep is starting to catch up with Matthew. He doesn’t realize quite how much until he zones out mid-training and receives a punch to the face hard enough to knock him sprawling on the ground.

“Oh! Dude, I’m sorry, are you okay?” Gunwook asks, while the other three’s heads snap up in surprise.

Matthew touches his face. His nose is bleeding, but it doesn’t hurt anywhere near enough to be broken.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I was daydreaming,” he says, wiping the blood off on his sleeve.

“What is there possibly to daydream about? The mediocre ass dinner we get after this?” Gyuvin teases.

Matthew glances at Ricky, who quickly avoids his eyes. There’s something physically painful about it. They’ve never had secrets. What could any of them possibly need to keep secret? Ricky hasn’t brought up what he knows even once, but he seems equally incapable of treating Matthew the same way now. Matthew kind of wishes he would say something, would yell at him or call him a traitor, just so he’d have some kind of inkling as to what he is thinking.

The discomfort of it has been eating away at him for the past week. He’s surprised none of the others seem to have noticed anything.

“My bed,” Matthew says, a half-truth.

“Well we have nothing scheduled for this evening, so you can get an early bedtime,” Taerae says, then goes back to whatever he seems to be helping Gyuvin with.

It sounds nice, but Matthew knows it isn’t happening. He desperately needs to talk to someone, and there’s only one person that feels like an option.

“Damn! What happened to your face?” Hanbin says when he sees Matthew that night.

“Is it bad?” Matthew asks.

“Well, it’s definitely bruised. You want Jiwoong to look at it?”

“No, it’ll be weird if it fixes itself overnight.”

Hanbin follows him up the scaffolding and, when Matthew sits cross-legged on the roof and shows no sign of going inside, takes his own seat on the ledge.

“You’re sulking,” Hanbin says, watching him. “What’s up?”

“Honestly? I feel like I messed up with Ricky,” Matthew says, eyes falling. “At the time I was just trying to think of how to keep him alive. But now he’s being forced to keep secrets too.”

“He isn’t being forced to do anything,” Hanbin points out. “Did you ask him not to say anything?”

“Well, no, but of course he wouldn’t. Ricky’s just that type of person. I think I could kill some innocent person in front of him and he’d cover for me. Doesn’t mean he’s okay with it.”

“Did you try talking to him?”

Matthew sighs, and his body suddenly feels heavy with the weight of it all. He flops back on the roof and stares at the patterning of the stars. It soothes him a little.

“No,” he admits. “I don’t know how. I’d have to tell him how much I lied about, and how much I’m still lying about, and then he’d have to live with the knowledge he’s now lying about all of that too.”

Hanbin kicks his legs back over the ledge and walks over to sit beside Matthew, then also drops on his back. It isn’t very appropriate lookout behaviour, but Matthew likes the company too much to point that out.

“You told me that I can only do my best, and let others do their best too. Does that not apply here?” he says, and his voice is quieter than before. It makes them feel far away from the rest of the world, up here on this roof in a silent city. “You can only be honest to Ricky, and then let him make his own decisions from there.”

“But then his options are to also be forced to keep more secrets, or to tell the others. Which would probably end up with the facility having your location. So should you really be giving me this advice?”

Hanbin pauses. “You’re right. Nevermind. Fuck Ricky.”

Matthew bursts out laughing. “What’s wrong with you!”

“I have to have some priorities, okay, and Hao wouldn’t cope being back in a facility. He likes music and tea too much. He’d wither and die.”

When Matthew turns his head, Hanbin is already looking at him with a stupid smile.

“Am I annoying you?” Hanbin asks, not looking particularly bothered about the notion.

“No more than usual,” Matthew replies, and receives an elbow to the side in retaliation.

“But really. Do what you think is right. He must care about you a lot. Maybe he doesn’t want to ask you if you aren’t ready to talk about it.”

It’s a thought Matthew has yet to consider. He’d assumed Ricky was just uncomfortable with Matthew keeping secrets, and he likely is when the secret is so heavy, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about Matthew anymore. He covered for him, after all.

He has a lot to think about.

──★ ˙

The energy today is particularly low. Ricky won’t stop yawning, and the action spreads across the entire group every single time. The only one looking bright and unbothered is Gunwook, basically skipping his way through the halls and running entirely on the energy of a late-night training session.

None of them are particularly skilled at going to bed at an appropriate time, and any early morning tasks have them crawling to and from breakfast with something less than enthusiasm. Minus Gunwook, of course.

Matthew can’t help but think of the times when their childish vigour kept them upbeat through anything. Sometime between their facility transfer and now, that motivation has morphed into something more serious.

“I wonder if we’ll get to meet other people with powers,” Gunwook had said, fiddling with the strap of his seatbelt. “If there are facilities in other cities, they must have people like us working there too, right?”

“Maybe we’re going to join a preexisting team there!” Gyuvin had replied, eyes wide.

“Well it probably depends on how many people are born with powers, and whether they can even find them. Maybe some people are born with really mundane powers that fly under the radar,” Taerae had contributed.

“Imagine your power being something like never getting a stomach ache. Or being able to communicate with one very specific kind of bug.”

The three of them snickered, the conversation a pleasant background hum. Their transport truck had been simple, only two narrow, dim windows of glass so thick Matthew could hardly see anything through them. Still, he’d spent the entire time with his gaze locked to the passing scenery, Ricky doing the same beside him. They’d passed structures Matthew had never seen before, and wide expanses of trees and rolling fields. The city they’d grown up in was so expansive he’d never seen trees or grass outside of small, controlled areas.

The city they’d been moved to was much smaller, and even the facility building had been a fraction of the size. Their old one was divided into varying wings with much more specialized areas. This building was taller and narrower, tall ceilings, with only one open hall-like area, some metal grated bridges pathing across, high up, to move from one side to the other on the loftier floors. The strangest thing was simply how empty it was. There were no security personnel at the gates, almost no staff milling about day-to-day, and their reports came in digitally as opposed to through briefings.

Of course, they had met people with powers, but it had not been in the way they’d expected. Their relaxed field work amped up almost instantly, and it had felt as though the stakes had risen abruptly.

Still, they’d been thrilled to share a dorm again, and had settled back into their usual routine pretty quickly. Even if the food was a little worse, and the hallways a little creepier.

Their reassignment was almost a year ago now, but it feels like forever to Matthew. He isn’t sure when things changed, but there’s a slight weariness to the entire team now. The constant cheerfulness with which they approached missions has just ebbed over time.

He wonders if it’s the feeling of constant failure, or the repetitiveness. Or perhaps they’re just growing up.

──★ ˙

Matthew gasps and nearly throws a punch when Hanbin jumps from the fire escape unprompted, directly in front of him.

“I want to show you something,” he says, cheeks red from the cold and a little giddy.

“Good or bad something?” Matthew asks, but Hanbin just laughs and takes his hand to pull him down the street.

He walks Matthew all the way across one half of the city to where the bridge cuts through the landscape, a huge, arching silhouette against the city skyglow. Matthew has never seen it during the nighttime. It feels colossal this way, edges illuminated by the golden light of the highway beneath.

Without so much as a pause, Hanbin starts walking up one of the angled, foot-wide support beams. Matthew stops. The beams are flanked by cabling that runs up alongside them, then splits down every few paces to connect to the road beneath. It doesn’t make the path look any safer.

Hanbin notices Matthew’s pause and turns around. “Scared? Mister zero gravity?”

Okay, that does make Matthew feel stupid. “You’ve been up here before?” he asks.

“It’s where I come to think,” Hanbin says. “With no special gravity powers to save my life if I slip.”

“Fine, move it,” Matthew says with a well-intentioned eye roll. The beam has a slow, curving incline, and is interspaced with ridges where the segments are connected. It is very clearly not designed to be walked up, but the support cabling on the sides does make it feel somewhat like walking across a smaller bridge. A particularly perilous, suspiciously angled bridge.

The beam leads to one of the two huge central support pillars, connected across the road beneath. Hanbin effortlessly climbs up the ledge onto the concrete above, and when Matthew follows he finds himself very relieved to be on something more than a foot wide.

This high up, the wind is strong and chilling. Matthew shivers as it bites easily through his thin hoodie. Hanbin takes a seat, legs kicking off into the nothingness, and Matthew slots himself in beside him with a little more caution.

“Isn’t it cool?” Hanbin asks.

And it is. From here, the city looks miniscule. They’re too high up to see any people and the cars look like little moving blips in the darkness. If it weren’t for some particularly towering skyscrapers, Matthew would have a clear view straight to home. He can see where the cityscape ebbs into forest, far, far into the distance. The world feels tiny up here, and his life’s struggles so distant.

“It’s crazy.”

“Makes all your problems feel so small, doesn’t it?” Hanbin says, echoing Matthew’s thoughts. “And if they still feel a little too big, you can look up at the stars and make them feel even smaller.”

Matthew follows Hanbin’s gesture to look up at the endless, reaching black above them. The view of the stars is never going to be perfect in a place like this, but the sight of them scattered across the night isn’t unlike seeing old friends. He wishes he could learn the constellations and try to pick them out of the incomprehensible patterns, but they have no reason to learn those kinds of things.

“Do you come up here a lot?” Matthew asks, and Hanbin hums.

“Sometimes. It’s nice to have a place of your own when things get too overwhelming.”

“Is it your own if you’re bringing me here?” Matthew teases.

Hanbin turns to look at him and smiles. This close, Matthew can see every odd freckle and stray hair buffeted by the wind. Hanbin’s breath ghosts against his skin, warm in contrast to the cold air, and Matthew suddenly finds himself fighting between conflicting instincts: the crazy urge to yank himself away, and the even crazier one to lean in closer.

The shock of the thought has Matthew quickly spinning his head back to the skyline. His stomach reacts strangely, which promptly twists into something closer to dread as his mind catches up with his body.

He’s abruptly aware of every spot they’re touching, from their knees up to their shoulders.

“I’m surprised I haven’t gotten caught being up here yet,“ Hanbin laughs, completely blind to Matthew’s inner turmoil.

Is it worse to want this? Matthew thinks, the realization settling in. Or worse to know I can’t have it?

They shouldn’t even be friends. Are they friends? Every few nights, it’s as if his feet lead him here of their own accord. When he isn’t here, he’s thinking about being here. Not even just about Hanbin, but also Hanbin’s friends. He likes them. He wants them to be okay. He’s supposed to be helping sign their death warrant.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Hanbin asks, and he’s looking at Matthew again.

“All of it,” Matthew says honestly.

“It’s a lot, but you just have to go one day at a time. Live each day without any regrets, and do what you can. Things will work out eventually, sunshine. We’re still very young.”

It’s a very wise thing to simply say like it’s nothing. Getting to know Hanbin beyond surface level has been shock after shock, and Matthew is struck with the feeling that, perhaps, he hardly knows Hanbin at all. The biggest shock is in how every new little thing just makes Matthew fascinated. He wants to know more, and he shouldn’t.

Without any regrets. Matthew is full of them. He doesn’t even know how to begin picking them apart.

His problems have gone from feeling small up here, to accumulating several new companions. Part of him irrationally hopes that when he walks back down, they’ll stay up here at the top of the world and he won’t have to think about them again.

“We should see if we can identify any of the constellations from here,” Hanbin says, picking the thought straight from the threads of Matthew’s mind. “I have a star map downloaded on my tablet.”

Matthew is completely screwed.

──★ ˙

“Would you kill me if I turned evil?”

The comment is so random in the silence that Matthew nearly chokes on the water in his mouth. He turns to look at Gunwook, draped across the couch like a blanket. The sheer amount of couch surface area he can cover is honestly quite impressive.

“Evil how?” Matthew asks, at the exact same time as Taerae says, “Yeah.”

Gunwook’s head shoots up with a pathetic expression. “You would?”

“Duh. That’s kind of our job. I expect you to kill me if I start acting up too.”

“You wouldn’t try to talk me down?”

“If you’ve ‘turned evil’ I assume that option is sort of long gone, no?”

Gunwook sighs and falls back onto the couch. “I don’t think you could kill me anyway.”

That even makes Gyuvin and Ricky laugh where they’re playing some card game on the floor.

“That’s big talk,” Gyuvin says. “You half-kill yourself when we aren’t keeping an eye on you. We would just need to set you free for a week.”

“I could just pick you up and throw you. I’d start with Matthew so the gravity thing is out. He’s strong but he’s small enough I could just hit him. Then I’d get rid of Ricky, so no more portals. Then I just start punting into the sky.”

“I don’t like how much thought you’re putting into this,” Matthew says, raising an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume you could land a proper hit on me.”

“I hit you so hard last week you flopped on the floor like a fish.”

Matthew pouts. “I was sleepy!”

Gunwook ignores him and seems to be pondering again. “Do you think we’ll constantly keep getting better? Like one day I could just punch straight through a huge wall? Matthew could release the gravity of the whole planet!”

“I sure hope not,” Taerae says. “I don’t want to think of what that’ll do to the concept of space-time. Create a vacuum?”

“Woah, Matthew would make such a good space crime-stopper.”

He has absolutely no idea what Gunwook is even yapping about anymore. It’s pretty on-brand for Gunwook to lose himself to random tangents, though.

“Well thankfully there is no crime in space,” Taerae says derisively.

“That we know of!” Gyuvin contributes.

“I seriously don’t have the mental capacity to deal with this conversation right now.”

Matthew returns his attention to what he was doing – doodling in his notebook. Several pages are torn out where the maps and notes were. They’re safely tucked away in Hanbin’s home somewhere now. All that’s left are the varying mathematical notes Ricky helped him with, measuring the applicable distance of his power and the impacts of varying velocities. He’s never really used them aside from comparing numbers to measure the speed of his improvement. Absent-mindedly, he doodles little stars between them.

“If aliens attacked our planet, could Taerae create an illusion of the entire world to trick them?”

Taerae instantly stands up. “I’m going to go train.”

──★ ˙

When Matthew next visits Hanbin’s home, there’s music playing inside. He’s heard music before, sure, but not this close, or this consistently. It’s something fun and upbeat that instantly improves his mood. The feeling is foreign.

The other three are sitting around the coffee table, and Jiwoong has a canvas set upon it that he’s painting on. There’s a smear of blue across his cheek that Hao is attempting to wipe off with his thumb, while Jiwoong tries his best to focus on what he’s doing in spite of it. There are a couple of bottles on the table, as well as several notes that look important enough that they should likely be elsewhere.

“Oh, there’s no way you’ve ever drank. Let’s fix that, you need a little silliness in your life,” Hanbin says, grabbing Matthew’s hand and tugging him over.

Hao looks up at them, glances at their hands, and promptly shoots Hanbin a look that can only be described as mischievous. It makes Matthew frown, feeling lost.

He takes a seat on the ground and watches Jiwoong paint. It’s a stretching swath of sunrise, colours captured so perfectly it’s as if Matthew is looking directly into the scene itself. He’s seen Ricky draw before, and he’s really good at it, but their only access to anything art related in the facility are their notebooks and pens. There’s only so much you can do. He itches to give paints and canvases to Ricky and see what kinds of things he could create. Then, he remembers they aren’t talking right now, and it wouldn’t be an option anyway. It stings.

His thoughts are silenced by Hanbin slotting himself in directly beside him, shoulder-to-shoulder, and offering him a bottle of something carbonated. It smells terrible.

Yujin gives Hao an impressive set of puppy eyes. “Haooo, can I–”

“I’m not your dad, do what you want,” Hao interrupts, not looking up.

As soon as Yujin picks up a bottle, Jiwoong snaps up from painting and snatches it from his hands at record speed. “No! Except for that!”

Yujin instantly starts sulking. “But Hao said I can do what I want.”

“Don’t ask Hao, he’s a bad influence,” Jiwoong says, raising an eyebrow when Hao lets out an offended “Hey!”

When Hanbin laughs, Matthew can feel it through their contact. He’s touchy with his friends all the time, he doesn’t understand why his body can’t just do him the justice of pretending to be normal right now.

The alcohol tastes pretty bad. It makes him feel a little warmer, and his muscles a little weaker. The edges of his mind seem a little softer and looser. A terrible concept for a highly trained fighter with a dangerous power, but he supposes it’ll be gone by morning. Still. He thinks one is enough.

“Have you always been good at art?” Matthew asks, and Jiwoong hums.

“It’s just something I picked up once I left the facility. It’s good to have hobbies to clear your mind.”

Matthew wonders if he has anything like that. He likes working out, but that’s also training, so it doesn’t really count. He likes spending time with his friends, but can he count that as a hobby? Gyuvin likes making things, Ricky also likes drawing, Taerae likes playing games. Maybe training with Gunwook is their hobby. They do it for fun far more than they do it for practice, or even building up Gunwook’s energy.

He’s content to sit and listen to the music and soothing chatter until, after some time, Hanbin leans in even closer to whisper, “Wanna sneak out?”

It’s like they’re children plotting to get out of training, not grown adults peacefully sitting around with their friends. It’s stupid, but it makes his heartbeat speed up a fraction. Possessed by the foolish feeling, he nods, and none of the others say anything when they quietly get up and wander back outside.

When they’re on the roof, Hanbin points at the highway in the distance. It snakes away into nothingness in the distance. Matthew can’t remember if that’s the way he came into the city, or if it was from the other direction.

“Sometimes I imagine following that highway out to the next city, and the next one, and the next one,” Hanbin says. His hair is a mess in the wind, and Matthew resists the urge to flatten it. “We’d all go together and never stay in the same place for too long. Every week we’d get to experience something new.”

The confession makes Matthew fight a smile. “You’re dreaming big.”

“I have a habit of wanting the things that would be most difficult for me to have,” Hanbin says with a laugh, and it feels like a loaded sentence. Matthew’s stomach twists involuntarily.

“Isn’t it more comforting to take the safer route?”

Hanbin turns back from the edge, then licks his lips and looks to the side. Matthew finds his eyes betraying him by tracking the movement before he rips them away.

“You have to live every day like it’s your last, sunshine,” Hanbin says, voice laden with something silly. “With lives like ours, it could be. And would you be content with the regrets you left behind?”

Carefully, Hanbin reaches out, and his hand finds purchase on Matthew’s arm. The touch sets goosebumps scattering across his skin in spite of the clothing in the way, and his own instant response makes Matthew feel like he’s going completely crazy. The situation is moving without him, and he’s struggling to keep pace. They’re close. Very close.

Some instinct within him makes his own hands want to reach out, and he has to actively keep himself from doing so. He fights to put his feelings into words, but it's as if his body knows exactly how to talk for him. 

Would you be content with the regrets you left behind?

If the recent changes in his life have taught him anything, it’s better to do some things stupid than to never do them at all. Hanbin is watching him closely as though waiting for permission for something. The anticipation, the part of his brain that’s making decisions without his permission… In a rush of dumb confidence – possibly only slightly altered by the alcohol – Matthew takes it upon himself to close the gap.

Hanbin hesitates a split second into the kiss in spite of his blithe confidence, like he wasn’t really anticipating it. He recovers and tilts closer, and Matthew feels the other hand find its way to the dip in his shoulder.

Something about it reminds him of using his power. The way he can hear his heartbeat, the slight, almost electric thrum beneath his skin, even the tiniest rush of disorienting dizziness.

Hanbin pulls back slightly, and Matthew has to briefly fight to keep himself in place. It all happened so fast, he didn’t have enough time to let his mind catch up.

“Matthew,” Hanbin breathes, holding eye contact. His pupils are slightly dilated. Matthew stills. “Put me down.”

Put me…? Oh!

Matthew leans back and releases his accidental surge of power. Hanbin stumbles as he’s dropped a couple of inches to the floor, then shoots him a look that says, ‘really?’

“Sorry, I didn’t know I could do that by accident,” Matthew rushes out, and the apology feels silly in the wake of what they’ve done. But then, Hanbin simply starts laughing, and what should be something awkward, something heavy, becomes an inevitable blip on the radar of whatever it is they’ve been doing.

Maybe Matthew knew this was coming, and Hanbin did too. Busy fretting over his constantly expanding web of lies, he’s hardly had the time to consider exactly what he’s been feeling towards Hanbin, or to really let any realizations settle. In the meantime, their relationship and its inevitabilities has been stepping along a path leading to this moment, and he’s forced to look it in the face and accept it for what it is.

When Matthew walks home that night, he finally takes the time to let the thoughts and feelings really sink into him. He’s faced with the world-altering fact that there was a line he should simply not cross, and he has chosen to leap over it headfirst. And yet, the stars watch him silently, without judgement, and it makes him feel less alone.

──★ ˙

The first time Matthew met Hanbin was the most terrified he’d been on field work to date, and yet somehow the most comedic experience too.

“Hands up!” Matthew had demanded. Hanbin had been up to one of his soon-to-be-familiar data collection escapades that Matthew would spend the next few months not understanding in the slightest.

Hanbin had spun to look at him, and his serious, concerned expression had instantly melted away. It was that exact moment that Matthew had realized Hanbin would never truly see him as a threat in any way, shape, or form.

“Oh, you’re here to stop me?” he’d said, fighting a smile, and the audacity of it had Matthew bristling.

Naturally, as would become a pattern, Hanbin had spent the entire encounter and proceeding fight dancing around them, before easily getting his way and disappearing without spectacle. It had left Matthew’s entire team bewildered, and with their second ever field work failure under their belts. Granted, there would be many more to come.

It has always been a silly memory, and maybe a frustrating one for the longest time. Now, it makes his stomach react strangely, and that’s how he knows exactly how hopeless he is.

“Let’s split up,” Taerae says tiredly. “The target was last seen on this street, and no cameras have tracked his movement anywhere, so he must still be in the vicinity.”

Taerae’s disinterest is to be expected. Their field work has been completely repetitive and draining. The most interesting thing that’s happened in weeks is Gunwook nearly getting shot in the calf, and Gyuvin even admitted he let it get a little too close on purpose, just to add a little excitement to the day.

Matthew trails toward a side alleyway, where some of the walls are so crumbled that the path dips and curves like a maze before him. The clouds blot patterns in the sky through the gaps in the structures above him, and he thinks of how much he’d like to be laying on the cold concrete of the facility courtyard right now. At least Gunwook would come up with some creative assessments of what the clouds look like.

There’s a rustle, and Matthew’s guard flies up instantly. Before he can even finish his alarmed thought, something tugs on his hand to pull him into the alley, and he’s staring at a Hanbin that looks far too pleased with himself.

“What are you doing here?” he whispers, but Hanbin just grins and pulls him even further into the alleyway by his hands.

“Seeing my favorite little superhero in action, obviously,” he says in lieu of a real answer.

“I can’t believe you’re flirting with me right now! I’m working!”

“I’ve kind of been doing it for months because the expression you make is so funny. How is this any different?” Hanbin asks, eyebrows raised. Matthew can’t help but gawk at the audacity.

Hanbin takes the chance to pull Matthew closer, then twirls them in some stupid dance that has him stumbling over his feet.

“Someone is going to see us!” he hisses.

“Are you shy to be seen with me?” Hanbin teases, like Matthew and his friends aren’t sent out every week with the sole purpose of killing him. He leans in close, nearly nose-to-nose.

For a moment, Matthew thinks Hanbin is going to do something incredibly stupid like kiss him. He can feel his heart beating against his ribcage and the way it makes his fingers tremble.

What are we doing? he thinks, but the thought is swept away by the recognizable torrent of feelings that he simply has no control over.

“Matthew?” Taerae calls, and he feels his entire body tense up.

Hanbin doesn’t falter, simply winks and turns to vanish into the corners of the alleyway. The sound of steps behind him has Matthew turning around, hoping he doesn’t look as ridiculous and flushed as he feels.

“There you are! Find anything?”

Matthew breathes out slowly to steady himself. “Nothing.”

──★ ˙

Hanbin puts a finger up to his lips as if to say ‘ be quiet’ . Matthew is confused until he steps further into the room.

Hao, Yujin, and Jiwoong are woven together in a pile on one couch, fast asleep. The sight reminds him of his friends back home, and some combination of longing and guilt twists in his stomach.

“Don’t wake them up,” Hanbin whispers, but then as if on cue, Yujin sits up quickly and instantly wakes up the entire knot of people.

“Matthew!” he says, doing a poor job of hiding his enthusiasm.

“Nu-uh, go back to sleep, I’m hanging out with him tonight,” Hanbin says, and it’s so close to being childish that Matthew wants to laugh.

“You always get him,” Yujin says sulkily, then is promptly shoved from the couch by a groggy Hao.

Hanbin takes him to the kitchen to make coffee – Matthew pretends he isn’t as excited as he is – and they carry some mugs out to the others.

Yujin has moved to the other couch, and Hao is grasping at his own head, looking incredibly rough.

“That’s enough,” Jiwoong says sternly. “You’re overdoing it.”

“There’s a lot to consider,” Hao counters, but his voice sounds too weak for his usual snark.

Jiwoong reaches over to take one of his hands. “You’ve done enough,” he says, gentler now. “We’ll be careful. This isn’t all your responsibility.”

Hao huffs, but leans closer to drop his head on Jiwoong’s shoulder in compliance.

Matthew wonders what Hao is preparing for, but resists the urge to ask. He looks worn out in spite of the sleep.

“What do you think?” Hanbin asks when he opens the door to his room.

It’s small and lacking a lot of personality, but there’s a painting of roses pinned to the wall that must have been Jiwoong. Frankly, it’s several steps above Matthew’s dorm bedroom.

“I could take a great nap in here,” he replies, and when Hanbin sits on the bed, Matthew takes a seat beside him and drops onto his back.

It’s at this moment that he notices little plastic stars stuck to the ceiling. They’re in set patterns. His heart twists at the sight.

“In some alternate universe,” he says, not moving his eyes, “We are all normal people.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. And we can hang out all we want. You’d still want to be around me in another universe, right?”

“I’m choosing to be around you in this one,” Hanbin says, voice light with the urge to laugh. “If I’d choose it when it’s hard, why wouldn’t I choose it when it’s easy?”

Matthew hums, thinking. “Or maybe we can be something other than people. Like birds.”

Hanbin finally breaks into laughter, bright and wholehearted. “Sure,” he says, then stops as if thinking. The sudden seriousness of his expression makes Matthew confused, and he sits up.

“I want to show you something,” Hanbin says.

“Yeah?” Matthew asks curiously, and watches as Hanbin turns to rifle through his drawers. He returns with a folder and his tablet, which he sets on the bed in front of Matthew.

“This is a comprehensive list of every single thing I’ve managed to collect on the facility in the last year,” he explains.

It’s an impressive folder. Matthew flips through it curiously, but stops when he hears Hanbin take a deep breath, like he’s preparing for something.

“We’ve basically done everything we can in the area, data wise. Taking down something this big is more about information than anything else. It’s sort of been our plan from the start. The photos you took? Yujin is pretty sure he’s figured out how to get into admin, which is huge. We’re thinking about ways to get into the facility, because the security system is actually–”

“Hanbin,” Matthew interrupts quietly. Hanbin hesitates for a moment, looking tense, then holds out his hand.

“I want you to come,” he says, and Matthew is struck with unease. “I’m considering some options for after all of this that I can explain later, since I know we won’t be able to stay here. I was– I’m hoping you’ll come with us and help us with this. Then leave with us.”

Matthew has never experienced a true conflict of heart in his entire life, at least not until he came here. Somehow, in the last couple of months, he’s had enough for a lifetime. Sitting here, he stares at Hanbin’s open palm, an invitation and a promise that nothing will ever be the same for him.

This is the right thing to do, he thinks. Right?

Hanbin is looking at him with an expression he finds hard to decipher, but it feels weighted. Wanting. Guilt rears its head – just another thing he has experienced more than enough of recently.

‘We’re a family.’ Yujin’s previous words to Hanbin take up residence within him. A family. That’s what his friends are. They are all each other have ever known.

“I can’t leave the others,” Matthew says quietly.

“If they won’t listen, would you still choose them over the right thing?” Hanbin asks, and there is a visible glimpse of hurt in his eyes that has Matthew turning his head away.

“I don’t know. They are still in the dark, they don’t know what I do. I need to… talk to them, maybe,” Matthew says, tracking the marks in the floorboards. Hanbin’s hand lowers, and he doesn’t want to see the expression on his face.

“Okay,” Hanbin says neutrally, but it feels like a purposeful choice has been made.

Please understand me, Matthew thinks, but he isn’t sure Hanbin does.

The walk back to the roof has a terrible feeling to it.

Matthew stops in the doorway, not knowing how to walk away and leave this strange, uncomfortable tension brewing. The silence feels so weighted that he just begins talking.

“It’s all we’ve ever known,” he says. “If they could talk to you, maybe they’d understand too! I just don’t know how I can tell them. I’m… We’ve never kept secrets. We’ve been together forever. Ricky still won’t meet my eyes anymore. I seriously don’t know if I could handle them all not trusting me. We’re supposed to be a team! If I do what I think is right, and they disagree with me, do I have to fight them? I really don’t think I could do it, no matter the circumstances.”

He’s desperate to fill the awkwardness, desperate to see some understanding in Hanbin’s eyes. Neither proves successful.

“You think they’d turn you in?” Hanbin asks.

“No, of course not!”

“If you died today, would you be content with the regrets you left behind?” Hanbin says, and the echo of his previous words in this context hurts more than a little. “Would you choose to do the wrong thing to protect the trust others have in you? Would you leave them in the dark when you could turn on a light? Is that fair?”

Matthew stands frozen, distressed because he knows Hanbin is right. It’s a bigger betrayal to his friends to keep them out of the loop than the fact he ever went behind their backs in the first place. They can make their own decisions, just as Matthew has been making his.

──★ ˙

Matthew stares at his notebook like it has all of the answers for him.

He’s been writing and rewriting every chance he gets, from the moment he got home last night, to any free time today, and all of this evening. Everything he’s been learning, all of his thoughts and feelings, every stupid lie that slipped from his hands the moment it left his mouth. He crosses things out, rewrites them, adds things, removes things. Ideally, it’s more of a guide on what to say than a letter, because he can’t imagine simply handing his friends a letter of this scale and sitting there while they read it. A serious conversation is due, and he can’t avoid it forever. Maybe he loses his friends. Maybe he gets handed in to the facility with a comprehensive list of everything he’s done wrong.

Still, he has to do it. There is no more alternative. It’s the first step in what feels like the right thing, and if he has to run away with Hanbin’s friends afterwards, then so be it.

After several more rewrites, he gives up and throws his notebook to the end of his bed. Exhausted, he flops back onto his bed and stares at the ceiling, imagining it’s the night sky and he can see every star scattered across it.

It’s the only thing that calms him enough to find sleep.

Red, everywhere, and a familiar alarm.

He wakes up with a shock, and sees it's no strange dream. The facility alarm is going off, and the light in his room is flashing red. Disoriented, he stumbles out of his sheets and opens his bedroom door, instantly finding himself face-to-face with Gunwook doing the same.

“What’s going on?” Gunwook yells over the sound. The lights are normal in the dorm itself, and the scarlet silhouetting Gunwook’s form is nothing short of foreboding.

Taerae bursts out of his room next, followed shortly by the other two from Ricky’s room.

“Gear up,” Taerae tells them, and if Matthew wasn’t already fully awake, the jolt of panic he experiences at that moment makes sure he is.

The facility is oddly just as empty as always, lights flashing red like in their bedrooms. Not a single staff member, not even security, despite the constant wail of the alarm. It’s such an unsettling sight to Matthew, and by how hesitantly the others are walking, they feel the same way.

“Let’s split up,” he suggests, and Taerae looks at him like he’s insane.

“What, no! We don’t even know what’s happening! We need to stick together until we figure it out!”

Unfortunately, Matthew is certain that he knows exactly what’s happening. He needs to find Hanbin before any of the others do. Or, even worse, facility security – if they’re even here.

“There are too many floors. We have no choice,” Matthew says. “We can radio each other if we find anything and just be careful. I’ll start at the top.”

Reluctantly, the group disperses, and Matthew starts sprinting to the nearby staircase. He just has to start on the roof and figure out the fastest path to admin from there. If he’s lucky, he’ll find Hanbin quickly.

He’s on his way up the stairs leading to the roof when he gets lucky. Hanbin is alone, balancing precariously on the railing to reach a vent. He’s pulling the cover off, and there’s a scrap of Matthew’s notebook between his teeth. Likely the map.

“Hanbin!” Matthew shouts, his legs already beginning to run without his permission.

Hanbin near-jumps out of his skin and drops the vent cover, before almost slipping from the railing himself. Quickly, Matthew focuses his power on Hanbin, and cringes when Hanbin’s turns mid-air, panicked, and smacks his head straight into the bottom of the steps above him.

When he successfully lowers Hanbin to the ground, there’s an awful lot of drying blood on his head that can’t just be from the knock against the stairs.

“Fuck, my bad, are you okay?” Matthew asks, crouching beside him on the steps. He attempts to move Hanbin’s hair to find the wound, but his hands are swatted away.

“I’m fine, don’t be a drama queen. I miscalculated getting everyone onto the roof, it’s nothing,” Hanbin says, but his pupils are dilated from the shock.

“But you look terrible!” Matthew says, and receives narrowed eyes in return.

“You don’t look so great yourself.”

Matthew sighs, but it comes out sounding more frightened than anything else.

“I forgot how incredibly creepy this place was,” Hanbin says, and the light-hearted comment feels so familiar that Matthew experiences a rush of something comforting and relieving in spite of the scenario.

“You have to get out. I don’t know what their security set-up in here even is , but I can’t imagine it’s anything less than lethal.”

“Matthew, there is no security set-up. I tried to tell you.”

Matthew stops, staring, and the alarm fills what would be silence. “What do you mean?”

Hanbin starts pushing himself to his feet, and Matthew slowly straightens from his crouch.

“There is no security set-up. I’m almost certain they leave you guys alone on purpose most of the time, so that they can see how you do by yourselves. I’m also sure that they know far more about what I’m doing than you might think, and I’m just not considered a real threat, but good potential training for you guys. I’ve sort of thought that for a while, but I’m pretty confident now. I doubt my visit today was a surprise either.”

It’s a lot. Matthew simply stands there for a moment, trying to process, then decides he doesn’t have the time right now.

“Is it just you?” he asks.

Hanbin shakes his head. “The others are with me. They’re going to the control room to get the alarms off. The plan is for me to go to admin and for us to reconvene on the roof.”

And Matthew had just split up his own team across the entire building.

“You need to go find them and get them out,” he says urgently. “I’ll go to admin.”

Hanbin blinks, startled. “What?”

“All of us are here, across the entire facility. You have to go help your friends, they’ll never win a fight. I’ll go to admin.”

“You’ll go to admin..?” Hanbin says slowly, and Matthew tightens his fists in frustration.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. That’s my fault. Please just trust me again this once, I’ll do whatever you need me to do,” he says quickly. Hanbin seems confused for just another second, before taking scissors and a USB from his bag and setting them in Matthew’s hands.

“You need to cut the third and fourth wire on the side panels. They’re black and yellow. You should be able to use the fingerprint scanner to access the data port, which is where the USB goes. Wait until the white light turns on, then you can remove it,” he says, sounding suspiciously like he’s reciting something he memorized from Yujin.

“Got it,” Matthew says simply, and sidesteps him to go lift his way into the vent.

“Matthew,” Hanbin says, turning around. Their eyes meet, and that now-familiar feeling strikes Matthew again. “Be careful.”

It’s such a Hanbin thing to tell someone else to be careful, when he’s the one that could get himself killed. His expression is too difficult for Matthew to read right now, and he desperately wishes they could stop and have a proper conversation. But there’s simply no time right now.

“Never am,” Matthew replies, and climbs into the vent.

──★ ˙

Admin feels distant from the rest of the facility. The lights are normal, and he can’t even hear the alarms from here. He follows his instructions methodically, and tries very hard not to think about how much of his last year was some sort of odd set-up.

People do work in the facility. In the kitchens, in the weapon sector, in medical. It’s true that he’s never seen any sort of real security. Was everything truly designed like some kind of wider experiment?

He takes the USB drive back out of the port and tucks it into his pocket. He needs to find Hanbin again, and fast.

The map on his wristband guides him through the vents that lead to the main hall, where he can hopefully find his bearings. The control room is on the second floor, but Hanbin has almost certainly found the others by now.

He drops out of the vent in a side hallway, then loops around the corner to the main hall. The alarms are turned off, leaving the space in an uncanny quietness. Surprisingly, there is someone here, and it’s Ricky. He doesn’t even notice Matthew, eyes glued to one of the bridges higher up. For a moment, Matthew hesitates, uncertain if running into another one of his team is a smart idea right now. However, he sees Ricky open a portal in front of him, still looking up, and registers what is happening.

Without another pause, Matthew runs out into the hall towards Ricky, right as he’s stepping through his own portal. He doesn’t have the time to stop and assess, and simply jumps through right after him.

The exit portal closes directly behind him, cutting it close enough to amp up his heart rate. He stumbles straight into Ricky’s back, and hardly has a fraction of a second to process what Ricky was looking at. Hanbin and the others take a step back on the bridge; Hanbin is shoving Yujin behind him.

Panicked, Matthew grabs Ricky by his arm and tugs him backwards. Suddenly, something in him feels inexplicably… wrong . He’s cold, and Ricky feels like a dead weight in his arms. When he looks down, Ricky is pale, his eyes are blank, and his other arm is missing. The amount of blood… He lost his arm again . It’s been years since he messed up his portals, how could this…? It doesn’t…

“Ricky?” he whispers, fighting the rising sense of dread. There is no response.

“Matthew!” Taerae cries, and Matthew lifts his eyes to see Taerae and Gyuvin standing over Gunwook further down the bridge, equally lifeless, blood leaking onto the ground. “How could you let them go? They’ve killed him!”

His heartbeat is so heavy he can hear the blood rushing in his ears and little else. His hands tighten on Ricky’s body. It’s as if Gyuvin suddenly processes this, and he cries out in panic before rushing over to pull him from Matthew’s arms.

Matthew feels sick, and dizzy. Did he overdo it again?

“Matthew!” Hanbin calls, but when Matthew spins his head in a circle he can’t figure out where it’s coming from. “Help me! Why won’t you ever help?”

Matthew struggles to his feet, but they don’t feel like his. They wobble beneath his weight, and he drops back onto his knees on the grate.

“It’s okay,” Taerae says, sounding resolute. “It’s finally done.”

When Matthew looks to Taerae, he’s now standing over Hanbin’s body, entirely unmoving on the ground. Matthew can’t fight the rush of feelings battling within him, and the overwhelming vertigo strikes again.

“What did you do?” he asks, and his voice sounds unfamiliar and muffled.

Taerae looks at him strangely, then Matthew blinks and it’s disappointment. We’re your family, it says. We’re your only friends. How could you lie to us?

“–tthew? Matthew!”

He feels himself being shaken, hard. Immediately, it feels as though he hasn’t breathed in forever, and he gasps in a lungful of air.

His vision blurs into place like waking up from a particularly deep nap. Hanbin and Yujin’s faces morph into view, one panicked and one horror-struck. Matthew feels icy cold and clammy, sweat sticking his back to the metal.

“Matthew?” Hanbin repeats. “Can you hear me?”

All of a sudden Matthew’s stomach flips and he shoves them away to turn over and throw up across the edge of the bridge.

“I’m sorry,” Yujin says behind him, sounding terrified. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to, it was an accident.”

“You need to stay calm,” Hanbin is saying to him. “If you keep freaking out, you’ll struggle to drop it again.”

When Matthew turns back around he notices Ricky is there too, alive and well. He’s sitting back on the bridge like he fell or was thrown there, looking at Matthew with wide, frightened eyes.

“Is he okay?” he whispers, and Hanbin nods.

It takes Matthew a few seconds to remember where he is. “I’m fine,” he says once he grounds himself. “I’m fine,” he repeats to Ricky. “It’s okay,” to Yujin.

“Are you sure? I swear I didn’t mean to,” Yujin says again, seeming like he might start crying. Matthew leans over to ruffle his hair, still trying to focus on his breathing at the same time.

“I promise,” he says, and finds that it’s true. What was that fear if not one step further from things he’s experienced already? His legs shake a little when he stands up, but his mind is settling as he returns to reality. Hanbin’s hand comes to hold his arm as a point of stabilization, and the contact itself is soothing.

The stillness of the moment is interrupted by footsteps across metal, the sound reverberating from above them. Matthew’s eyes track up to see Gyuvin peering down.

“They’re still here!” he calls back down the hall, then glances back down. “Hold on, guys!”

It strikes Matthew that Gyuvin likely thinks he and Ricky need help, and also that all of the bridges are made entirely of metal.

“Go!” he whispers desperately to Hanbin, trying to pry the hand from his arm.

Hanbin’s eyes find his. “You aren’t coming?”

Matthew fumbles for a second. He wants to, he’s prepared to. At this point, he has to. But the idea of getting chased down through the facility by his own team right now has him freezing up.

All of a sudden, there’s a loud, metallic thunk , and the bridge shudders a little at the weight of Gunwook – who has thrown himself down an entire floor drop, because he’s completely crazy.

“I’ll catch up!” Matthew tells Hanbin, slips the USB into his bag, then shoves him away in the direction of his friends, who are quickly backing away toward the other hallway. Hanbin stares at him for a beat longer, then turns to run.

Gunwook climbs over the railing, then grasps onto Ricky and Matthew’s arms to pull them back. The bridge begins distorting several steps in front of where Gunwook had tugged them, bending and creaking as though being torn apart by something far larger than them. Hanbin, being Hanbin, is simply too fast to be caught by it. He disappears into the hall on the other side, and Matthew stumbles against the remaining railing.

“It’s alright, they have to cross back over above us if they want to get to the roof,” Taerae calls down.

Matthew feels sick. He isn’t sure if it’s the residual effects of Yujin’s power or the sheer adrenaline of everything. His eyes stray to Ricky, who is already looking at him. He isn’t sure what’s passing between them, but the very fact Ricky is even looking at him at all feels important after the extended avoidance.

There are thudding steps along the grates above them, and Matthew can see the group moving across the bridge, two floors up. Jiwoong is leading them and Hanbin is at the rear, cautiously glancing behind them.

Then, Matthew has the extremely confusing experience of seeing himself step onto the bridge. After everything that’s happened, it takes him an alarmingly long time to use his common sense.

It’s supposed to be a distraction, but Taerae doesn’t know . At the sight of Matthew’s illusion, Hanbin instantly falls to a stop and turns around for a split second.

It’s just long enough for Gyuvin to pull the bridge away into nothingness while Hanbin isn’t looking. Even from two floors down, Matthew can see the second Hanbin realizes, flounders as the floor beneath him disappears, attempts to turn and run back – but he’s already falling.

Things happen very fast. Hardly registering his own actions, Matthew rips his arm free of Gunwook’s hold, and jumps over the railing.

For a few tense ticks, he seriously thinks Hanbin is dead. Then, he makes a slow, disoriented noise, and Matthew rushes over.

He looks so much like Hao did back at the construction site that, briefly, Matthew almost forgets where he is. Shaking his head to clear it, Matthew drops into a crouch beside Hanbin and tries to check if anything other than his head is bleeding. His hands are shaking too much to do anything, and he can’t get them to stop. When he focuses on them, they almost don’t feel like his anymore. There is just so much blood. He doesn’t even know how Hanbin is conscious. 

“Matthew?”

It’s Taerae’s voice. How long has he been crouched here that they’ve managed to come down to the ground floor? It feels like he’s only been here for a short moment. Suddenly, he’s just so overwhelmed. It’s all too much, too fast, too abrupt. It all feels like his fault. Step after step, a sequence of events caused by him.

“Don’t,” he says, but it comes out sounding jumbled, and that’s how he notices that he’s crying, hard. He turns to look at Taerae, standing with the others, and hates that he can’t read the expression on his face. Shock, disgust, anger? It could be any of them. All of them. “Please just give me– Let me–”

Hanbin’s hand comes up to thread with his. It’s supposed to be comforting, but it just makes Matthew cry harder. Another hand comes to rest on his shoulder, and he turns to see Jiwoong’s face through his tear-blurred vision. He looks so calm and gentle. An irrational, child-like part of Matthew just wants to ask him for a hug.

“He’ll be okay,” Jiwoong says softly. “We’ll be okay.” His gaze switches up to Matthew’s friends and shifts into something steely cold, as though daring them to step any closer. It’s so quiet, entirely noiseless aside from Hanbin’s laboured breathing and Matthew’s loud sniffles.

Jiwoong’s hand moves to rest on where Hanbin’s and Matthew’s are linked, and they slowly disconnect. Then, Jiwoong crouches down to scoop up Hanbin, whispering something soothing that Matthew can’t hear over his own crying. His now-empty hand is quickly filled by Yujin’s, who holds it very tightly in spite of how bloody it is, and pulls him to his feet.

He isn’t sure he’s capable of turning to look at his friends. Will he be able to handle the way they’ll look at him? He needs to go with Hanbin. He needs to make sure he’s going to be okay.

Therefore, he doesn’t turn around once as he is walked away by Yujin. He thinks of the time Hanbin carried Hao away, without so much as a glance back. It gives him deja vu, a dizzying sort that makes him clutch onto Yujin all the harder.

They aren’t followed. There is no point avoiding any of the courtyard’s cameras anymore. Hao stops them once they’re outside.

“Wait,” he says, his voice kind. He gestures Yujin away; takes Matthew’s wrist and his other hand, unlocks the wristband with Matthew’s own finger, then promptly removes it from his arm. Watching it drop on the floor feels like an absolute finality. It’s peace, it’s an inevitability, but it’s also crushingly painful. There is no going back.

“Come on,” Hao continues, still speaking carefully. “Let’s go.”

──★ ˙

Matthew wakes up in an unfamiliar room. It’s dark, and he can see a distant dusting of stars through the window. He turns on the bedside lamp, and the rush of warm light reminds him where he is. Hanbin’s room.

Matthew gets out of bed at record speed and opens the door to the main living space. Jiwoong is sitting on the coffee table, and his eyes lift to meet Matthew’s right away.

“How is he?” Matthew asks, walking over. Hanbin looks to be sleeping on the couch beneath a blanket. His face doesn’t have a single bruise or drop of blood anymore. It doesn’t ease much concern.

“I’ve fixed people worse than this,” Jiwoong says. “I promise it’ll be okay.”

“You have?” Matthew asks, restless. He’s aware that he’s likely being overbearing in his anxiety, but Jiwoong doesn’t seem to mind. He taps the table beside him for Matthew to sit, and Matthew promptly does as he is told.

“You know by now that the facility is more of an experimental program than anything. People like us are just one of their experiments. Tampering with tech, tampering with genetics. It isn’t so different. Not to them, anyway.”

Matthew nods, watching Hanbin’s breath rise and fall. He looks peaceful, asleep like this. It makes Matthew realize that he’s never seen the other sleep, and that he so often looks stressed out to some degree.

“We aren’t all made for combat,” Jiwoong continues. “They’re still figuring out what kinds of things they can do with us. People like that are willing to hurt others for any sort of information. What do you think they used Yujin for? And with someone capable of patching up all kinds of injuries and leaving a person entirely unmarred – what is going to hold them back?”

Matthew picks up what Jiwoong is putting down rather quickly, and turns to look at him in alarm. “They didn’t make you…?”

Jiwoong smiles reassuringly. “Hanbin may as well have a papercut. None of his organs are damaged, he’s going to be as good as new when he wakes up.”

After everything he has learned the last couple of months, Matthew wasn’t expecting anything to still shock him. And yet, here he is. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. Think about it this way: I have near-mastered my power, and now I can keep those I care about safe. It’s a beautiful thing to have, isn’t it?”

Matthew is worried that he’s going to cry again. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him lately. It must just be everything he’s had to process, piling up within him like a weight and threatening to crush him constantly. These people have experienced terrible things, and they still smile and act gentle. They still say wise, kind things. They still have the determination to fight what they think is wrong.

It reassesses his view on the lives of him and his friends. Taerae should never have had to push himself every day to the point of throwing up and struggling to eat meals. Gunwook should never have had to set the bones in his hands so often. Ricky should never have lost any limbs. Gyuvin should never have had to force himself to use a power he didn’t want to, or live with the guilt of accidentally hurting someone he cares so much about.

They never chose this life. They had this ‘purpose’ handed to them, and were expected to break themselves apart for it. It’s a difficult truth to accept.

“Go get something to eat,” Jiwoong tells him. Matthew nods, and leaves him watching over Hanbin’s sleeping form.

The next time Matthew wakes up, he hardly remembers falling asleep. The sun is up and casting a hazy sort of light into the bedroom. His mind takes less time to settle than before, and he’s up twice as fast.

The living space is empty. No Jiwoong, no Hanbin. He experiences an irrational jolt of fear before common sense kicks in, and he rushes to open the door to the kitchen.

The sight of Hanbin sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee hits him with enough relief to near-knock him off his feet.

“Hey,” Hanbin says when he sees him. He’s smiling. The blinds are open and Matthew has never seen this place in the daylight. Illuminated by the golden glow of morning, Hanbin looks like a photograph.

“Hey,” Matthew says back. The stillness lasts all of three seconds before both start laughing, and when Hanbin pulls out the chair next to him, Matthew is quick to take it.

“Jiwoong told me you were here. He’s sleeping now, by the way. You probably won’t see him for at least a couple of days.”

Matthew nods, eyeing the rolling patterns of the wood on the tabletop.

“I’m–” Matthew tries. He stops to take a breath, then reattempts. “I really thought I’d gotten you killed. If the injury didn’t kill you, I thought the facility would have taken you. I was really scared. I should have listened to you earlier.”

Hanbin takes his hand. The contact is warm where he was holding his coffee mug. “Stupid. You were just acting out of loyalty and love for your friends. It’s who you are. It’s one of the main things I like about you.”

“I just wish I could take care of everyone at once without it conflicting,” Matthew says, tightening the hand hold. “I seriously think I would have a meltdown if something had happened to you.”

Hanbin doesn’t reply, and when Matthew looks up he finds Hanbin looking at him with something both heavy and light. Something readable and yet also not.

“What are you doing to me?” Hanbin says, voice quiet. The words still Matthew, and nerves jump up in the form of a static-like feeling across his skin.

“Getting you killed, apparently,” Matthew jokes. Hanbin’s eyes scrunch up as he laughs, and the nerves double.

It feels like a lot, and also not enough. He wishes they could talk more, cover everything, but it doesn’t feel right in the moment. They’ll have time. For now, he’s content to sit side-by-side and enjoy the morning sun on his back, which he so rarely gets to experience.

Distantly, Matthew wonders if his friends have tried to message him on his wristband. If they think anything when the messages don’t go through. Probably not. Maybe they think he’s been a traitor all along. In some ways, he has. He’s been lying to them for ages. He should have spoken to them. He should at least have tried .

“When you think really hard, you frown,” Hanbin says. “But it’s more like a pout. It’s pretty cute.”

Matthew falters. “I make a face when I’m thinking?”

Hanbin snickers like it’s funny. “You didn’t know?”

“Nobody told me!”

Hanbin tugs on his hand, only seeming more amused by Matthew’s annoyance.

“I make a lot of crazy choices,” Hanbin says, out of the blue. “But you’re probably my favorite one.”

Matthew feels his face heat involuntarily. “What are you even saying!”

In lieu of words, Hanbin just tugs him closer by the waist and tucks his head over his shoulder. Matthew’s stomach does that same twist, but instead of fighting it this time, he simply lets it settle within him. He allows himself to fully relax into the half-hug for a moment, and it's as if his thoughts melt away with it. It’s going to be okay, somehow.

──★ ˙

Words blur together, and Matthew looks up to blink several times and get some moisture back in his eyes. He’s been flipping through Hanbin’s extensive facility folder for the past three days, finally having the chance to settle and read everything. It’s an absurd amount of information to have collected in less than a year.

Hao is asleep on the couch beneath a blanket, and Jiwoong is sitting beside him. Matthew can see them through the open kitchen doors. Jiwoong isn’t doing anything, just staring into space, and Matthew wonders what he’s thinking about so intently.

The warmth of the setting sun at his back has Matthew fighting sleep. He’s been desperately trying to regain some semblance of a reasonable sleep schedule, so he sips his coffee and sits up a little straighter before returning to reading.

The sound of the door opening and quickly closing steals his attention, and he looks up, expecting Hanbin. Through the gap to the living space, he sees Hanbin shoot Jiwoong some kind of look that’s not quite at the right angle for Matthew to discern; he sees Jiwoong raise his eyebrows, tilt his head, then switch to some kind of alarm. Whatever telepathy is going on, Matthew is not in on it.

Hanbin spins and speedily makes his way to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway. This time, Matthew is victim to his own version of the look.

“What?” he asks, nervousness growing.

“Um,” Hanbin says, then stops. Matthew wants to make some kind of ‘that’s my line’ joke, but he can’t bring himself to when Hanbin really does look troubled.

“What is it?” Matthew repeats, grip on his coffee tightening.

“Someone’s, um, here. Multiple people. That you may know.” He cringes. “I don’t know why I’m saying it like that. The others are–”

Matthew stands up so fast that his chair screeches on the floorboards, and Hanbin jumps.

“Good here or bad here?” he asks.

Hanbin hesitates. “Based on that wording, I’m going to say good here.”

The rush of excitement and anxiety hits Matthew so hard he nearly has to sit back down again. “They’re here?”

Having seen his reaction, Hanbin looks a little less stressed out. “I felt like I should ask you first.”

Matthew won’t lie and say he didn’t have some hope. The realistic part of him had squashed it more and more with every passing day. And yet.

He laughs, slightly giddy and knocked off-kilter by the absurdity of it all. “Of course.”

It makes Hanbin half-smile, then turn and go back out through the door. Matthew steps out of the kitchen, and sees the commotion has woken Hao up, who is blearily wiping his eyes. Yujin has also poked his head into the room.

“Did your friends turn up?” he asks, in the disinterested, upfront way he always does.

“Whuh?” Hao says intelligently.

The door reopens and Hanbin returns, trailed by Ricky, Gyuvin, Taerae, and Gunwook. The sight is incredibly strange, like part of Matthew’s life has been cut out and pasted into another part, but absolutely nothing could have prepared him for the sheer awkwardness that instantly fills the room.

His friends’ eyes switch between everyone before settling on Matthew. Having them all looking at him has never been so uncomfortable. None of them are wearing their wristbands.

How did they… No, of course, Ricky has been here. What made them change their mind? Did Ricky talk to them? What do they think of me? They can’t be that mad if they followed me, right…?

“Okay, okay, everyone here has almost killed each other. Can we move on now?” Yujin says, blind – or possibly just entirely disinterested – to the extremely tense feeling in the room.

“I suppose this works out,” Hanbin says. “I did want to do my briefing today. Guess it’s a good thing I waited.”

He scoots his way past Matthew in the doorway to get to the folder on the kitchen table, and Matthew soon finds himself in what is somehow his most peculiar situation yet – sitting between his facility friends and his newer ones, all around the same table, waiting to hear what Hanbin has to say.

“Well,” Hanbin says, seeming entirely calm, “I don’t know how much all of you know…”

Taerae looks hesitant. “We read Matthew’s notebook.”

Hanbin doesn’t know what that means, and frowns in confusion. Matthew, however, does, and his jaw drops. My notebook! His many miserable attempts to figure out exactly how to explain everything to his friends, and they’d found it. He’d completely forgotten about its existence. Hanbin’s eyes track Matthew’s reaction across the table.

“I guess I’ll just get into it and we can make sure you’re fully filled in after.” He pauses. “I’ve decided we’re just thinking too small.”

Taerae, surprisingly, speaks up right away. “What do you mean?”

“What can four people do? What can nine people do? A system this big?”

Hanbin takes his tablet out of his bag, flips through it, and places it down with a map of the country. It’s labeled with every known facility building. There are a lot more than Matthew could ever have expected.

“We don’t know for sure that we could even get more people on our side,” Taerae argues. Our side. What had happened in the last few days? What kind of conversations had Matthew missed? “Or how many powered individuals are even in each facility.”

Hanbin shrugs. “We can sit here with our resentment, poking around at things and mildly inconveniencing the people running this operation, or we can use what we know to try and actually make a difference. If we take away all of their experiments, they have nothing left. This is a system that relies on its lies. Nobody is going to listen to just us. But a whole group of people that realize they’ve been wronged?” He pauses again, then adds resolutely, “I am not one for ‘what if’s.”

Hanbin has always had a way of speaking that makes him difficult not to listen to. Matthew has been in the face of it constantly, from the very first day Hanbin decided he was someone worth truly talking to.

“No regrets,” Matthew says, and sees Hanbin fight an automatic smile.

Taerae suddenly looks exhausted, and Matthew realizes how much he’s had to process in such a short time. A couple of days ago, everything was totally normal for him. In an instant, he lost Matthew, had to reassess the things he’s known his entire life, and make a choice that Matthew spent weeks being conflicted over. Aside from Ricky, all of his friends have experienced their world being shaken apart today. It’s something he could have fixed, if only he were able to be honest with them from the start.

He’s yet to have a chance to talk to any of them properly, and the urge to throw himself into them and never let go is overwhelming.

“Well, we can’t stay here,” Taerae says eventually. “We can figure it out.”

Hanbin looks relieved, and his eyes briefly meet Matthew’s with the first real glimmer of hope that Matthew has ever seen in them. He’s suddenly struck with thankfulness, toward his friends who came back for him, and toward Hanbin for opening his door to them so easily.

The group begins to disperse, and Matthew automatically starts following after Hanbin.

Abruptly, a hand catches his. He tilts his head and sees it’s Taerae. Hanbin glances at them for a moment, assesses Matthew’s expression, and then continues walking.

“I… We need to talk,” Taerae says. “Properly.”

Matthew turns around fully, but neither lets go of each other’s hand. “I’m sorry,” he says, and hopes it conveys the scale of the words.

Taerae looks sad but serious. “Me too.”

I’m glad you’re here with me , Matthew thinks. I don’t know if I could do any of this without you.

“Let’s get the others and go talk?” he suggests.

Taerae nods and offers a small smile.

“I have a lot to tell you,” Matthew says, matching the smile. “I think it’s long overdue.”