jaeyongdx

[jaeyongdx]

mujin meets him with attitude. in a bad way. jaeyong narrows his eyes at him in equal parts confusion and disbelief. jaeyong, as far as he's aware, was perfectly reasonable and friendly, but if mujin isn't going to offer him the same respect, then...fine.

"it takes like...30 seconds to shoot us a text. 'hey i'm still at the clinic i'll probably be another 20 minutes,' or literally anything. last i checked you have opposable thumbs and should be capable of that much," he replies. still calm, despite the irritation slowly seeping into his tone.

"okay, but...we all volunteer our time for this, yeah, but you not even giving us any indication of if or when you'll show up disrespects the time everyone else dedicates to this because we're supposed to be playing as a group," he points out.

mujin really seems to just not get it. maybe he got stuck with the brain of some stupid creature when he shapeshifted one time and that's why he's acting like this. surely it's not that hard to understand? "we're a band, dude. it's about playing together, not practicing our parts individually and 'keeping up' with each other. why did you even join if you don't wanna play with us outside of...what, shows every now and then?"

jaeyong is more annoyed by mujin's apparent absolute missing of the point than anything about him having a hard time keeping up, mostly because the answer to that question is a no-brainer. (jaeyong does not have a hard time keeping up.)

"we're all just doing this to have fun but we can't practice well without a drummer, and it's not as fun when you don't show up. if you really care so little then just don't come back?" okay, maybe that's extreme – or maybe not, honestly. if mujin doesn't care about the band, it's probably better for everyone involved if they just get another drummer.

"if it's actually like, timing conflicts and you having something else going on, then we can probably have practice on a different day. i don't think anybody would mind changing it if it means everybody can come to practice consistently. i think the biggest problem is us just not knowing what the fuck is going on, you know? you turning into animals doesn't exempt you from using your person communication skills."

it's been a long day. he loves his job, but being whined at by injured cats and trauma-dumped on by dogs who think their owners hate them every time they leave the house really takes a lot out of him. turns out, humans are often shitty pet-parents.

who'd've thought?

while the veterinarians at the clinic are there to perform the tasks they've been trained to do, mujin's knowledge of all species, and his ability to speak to them, simplifies the whole process. however, what the docs and other clinical staff don't realize is that he is the one who deals with the psychic damage from all of this. he's the only one who knows how these adorable little beats think, and feel.

he's the only one who hears them.

the amount of times he's had to deliver bad news is becoming kind of excessive, and while he realizes that's literally just part of his job, it still sucks to see his loved ones suffer. after all, animals, by nature, are innocent. many of them will never harm or bother you unless you provoke them. so, witnessing their trying times and misfortunes hits him harder than when a fellow human being faces similar fates.

is that a little fucked up of him? sure, but mujin doesn't really make excuses for it. in his honest opinion, the animal kingdom feels much more like family than those he shares district x with. there are some people he holds close to his heart—his mom and dad, other creature-hybrids, the few friends he's made here—and there are some who just... don't really matter, and his bandmates in devil's asphalt are individuals he doesn't really know where to place.

there's jisung, who he loves, and there's nari, who hates him, and jihu, who he sometimes forgets is even there, and then there's jaeyong.

oh, song jaeyong. he's the hot one. he's tall, and beautiful, and he's got that charming-yet-crooked smile that's equal parts punchable, and kissable. he's the one the crowd eye-fucks the entire time he's standing beneath those often shitty stage-lights, the type that look like they're about to fall and crush everyone below any second.

mujin agrees with how attractive he is, even though he'll never be someone who feeds his ego. its clearly already eaten way past its fill. for some reason, jaeyong's decided to confront him about his admittedly horrible attendance record, and he won't like, he's equal parts annoyed and intrigued. "do you think i have time to sit on my ass and send a message while i'm at the clinic?" he asks, standing from his seat; still clutching his drumsticks in both hands.

"i get here when i can, okay? besides, we're all just volunteering our time for this. it's casual, you know?" it's pretty dismissive, but he's just being honest. it's hard for him to take anything seriously. "just let me vibe. m'here to have a good time. i practice my parts during my downtime and days off. all you have to do is keep up with me. that's all." he knows it's not that simple, he's mostly being facetious, and it's only because he wants to irk jaeyong a little bit.

what can he say? he's sexy when he's mad.

"you having a hard time doing that, or?"

[jaeyongdx]

"yeah, it's me," jaeyong replies, voice still soft. he looks at his brother, damp hair stuck to his face from sweat, and figures he must've caught him right after a nightmare.

it's all a nightmare, he can't help but think. our lives are a nightmare.

no, he can't think like that. neither of them are stuck in the labs like daeyong was for years. they are both free. even jaeyong, forcing his own horrifying lab-induced nightmares far enough into his mind so his brother cannot see them – is free. he will always get to go home eventually, as long as they don't kill him in there. and now they have each other again. surely they can survive any hell if they're together.

i heard babies, daeyong says, and jaeyong feels sick to his stomach again. of course he knows what daeyong means. it might sound like nonsensical mutterings of a madman to anyone else, but jaeyong knows.

( cw: gore )

he hasn't heard babies in the labs himself, but he's heard the rumors, like everyone else, of newborns being stolen from the hospital. he wouldn't put it past them. he hopes he never hears the babies. he tries not to think of other babies – his sister's sons – and the feeling of their insides dripping from his skin. it was just an illusion, but why could he feel it? part of him can still feel it.

he's glad daeyong isn't really looking at him. maybe it's selfish of him, to find relief in daeyong being preoccupied with the horrors of his own mind. it means he won't know jaeyong's. not easily, anyway.

he leaves the light on on his phone, but lifts daeyong's legs off the couch, just enough so he can sit down himself. he drops his brother's legs back down, onto his lap, and leans his head on the backrest of the sofa, staring up at the ceiling himself. he rests his hands idly on daeyong's legs and hopes it grounds him a little. jaeyong could probably use some grounding, too.

"yes," jaeyong answers. daeyong is out. he's safe now. they're safe now – here, at least. for now. as long as jaeyong doesn't fuck up and reveal the secret of the labs somehow, dooming both of them to a lifetime of torture in that linoleum hellscape.

"real," he assures daeyong anyway. he flips his phone's flashlight off, leaving them in darkness. he feels better like this, if only because he doesn't have to worry about daeyong reading any fear on his face. "you're out. i'm not gonna let them hurt you again."

he wonders if daeyong believes that. why should he, when jaeyong so miserably failed to protect him already? after everything they went through together their entire lives?

somehow, that thought makes him feel a little better – not that he failed daeyong, but because in a way, this is just one more thing they're going through together. it's just not at the same time. jaeyong will eventually bear the same pain as daeyong. he will wake up from gruesome nightmares and grow used to new incisions in his skin and he will probably hear the babies.

the only difference is, daeyong will never know. this is something jaeyong has to do on his own. and that reminder makes him feel...cold. empty.

he is floating, suspended in blinding whiteness somewhere between life and death, forgotten in purgatory where the sound of his own heartbeat plagues his thoughts like explosions dropped from above to wreak havoc on what's left of his consciousness.

cw: gore, body horror, sleep paralysis, surgery/hospitals

then the emptiness is replaced by faceless figures in white coats, their only defining features matching gelled undercuts and sinister splitting grins too large for the faces that aren't there. the ceiling above him is suddenly mirrored, and he can see as well as he can feel every fileting cut they make to his body, peeling his skin away and laying it on a tray nearby in sickeningly perfect sashimi cuts. someone meticulously pours over him a bucket of house centipedes, and he realizes, as he feels them burrowing pathways into his bone marrow, that he cannot scream, because they've garnished the platter of his organs with his julienned tongue.

the ringing in his ears ceases to be his own raw screams, because they have cut his throat to see how long it will take their blood puppet to choke on his own blood. but he still hears high-pitched wailing, shrill and desperate. is that--jiahn? no. no, it's younger than that. it's the shrieking of a colicky infant, bouncing off the walls of his hell until it sounds like there are fifty of them, tremoring in his head so hard he feels something snap and leak out of his ears until he hears nothing at all. he is trapped in a suffocating silence while they lift his organs out of his flayed chest, unable to move, unable to scream, unable to breathe--

then everything is dark.

he doesn't realize he is awake, instead of dead, until an unseen light causes the room's shadows to shift eerily overhead. he doesn't realize he can hear again until jaeyong's voice cuts through the apartment's imprisoning quiet. he doesn't realize his tongue is still firmly attached to itself until he utters, after stilling his trembling jaw long enough to speak, "jae?"

he still can't move, can't bring himself out of his nightmare's paralysis, can still feel tight, steel shackles pressing him down into the couch cushions, as if to bury him there. he shivers, damp with sweat.

"i heard- babies."

there is no explanation; there is none to give. but it should be enough for his twin to understand, that through his night terror came inklings of what may have been a very real memory. had he really, between his own scientific torture sessions, heard the screeching of lab rats not yet old enough to formulate their pain into words?

he thinks he can still feel the bugs from his dream crawling under his skin, and he can feel his own blood cells racing through him trying to find those imaginary foreign invaders. his head throbs with every beat of the heart still miraculously in his chest, right behind his eyes, spackling the darkness with a colorful, burning halo. out of the corner of his eye, a boy-shaped shadow, just behind jaeyong's shoulder. it is featureless, but somehow he recognizes the hallucination as his late brother. he wonders if maybe jiahn got the better end of the deal.

"i'm out." he contemplates out loud, squinting up at the ceiling through his migraine for more grounding signs of reality, still unsure where it begins, still glued unmoving to the sofa, "you got me out."

he has to assume jaeyong's presence here is not another hallucination. he has to assume this is reality and his nightmare was a dream and not the other way around, or else he will wake up back in that hell even worse off than before.

"real?"

[jaeyongdx]

toast & coffee is a little too busy right now for his tastes. don't get him wrong, other people can be entertaining, but his favorite times at the diner are when it's late and quieter. he can bother sparky at the counter or decompress at a table by himself with a cup of decaf after a long day.

when it's busy, he usually isn't by himself. he comes with friends sometimes, at varying hours of the day, no real rhyme or reason. tonight, though, he was in the area, and got a craving for late-night breakfast food, so he figured he might as well stop in.

and honestly, it's probably a good thing he did – if only for the group of giggling girls who apparently want his autograph. he's about to make their entire year. it's just a little sad, or cruel, that they sent poor boreum, shaking like a leaf, to do their dirty work. of course, it's also really funny, so he gets it. but still.

he honestly doesn't know why she's so nervous around him. they've known each other since he was just a wee little nuisance during their time in the public school system, before he was anything close to an enhanced agent. for all intents and purposes, she should probably be more comfortable with him than most people. but, he kinda gets this too, because he is quite cool, and hot, and funny.

it's cute, and it seems that despite his regular patronage, nothing has really changed. he smiles his best, most charming smile – also a little smug, and a little cocky. "you know, boreum, you don't have to make up an excuse to ask for my autograph. i would've written you a personal message and everything." he can't help but tease her. he doesn't actually think she's lying to get his autograph, because if she wanted it, she surely would've asked ages ago. probably.

he looks over to the table in question, and flashes them a smile too. they're cute. he turns his attention back to boreum, but can't help but overhear the table gushing over him. honestly, he could get used to this. it's probably a good thing, too, because this is the future ahead of him when he becomes an a tier enhanced agent – and about all that's ahead of him with that title.

he takes the paper and pen for boreum. "did they say what exactly they're a fan of about me?" he realizes after he says it that it's worded a bit strangely. he isn't fishing for compliments. he means, "the music, or the heroics? both?" there really is a lot about him to admire.

𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕚𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕝 𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕧𝕠𝕣 .

with @jaeyongdx ˎˊ˗

the moon hangs high in the sky, a beacon of bright champagne - it's full, and round, the face illuminating the west side of the district, acting as a guide to all of the night-goers. it's a running joke amongst the staff at toast & coffee that this time of month is always the most restless - fast and furious, there's nothing more chaotic than the night of the full moon here. it brings out something manic in people, and there's always some kind of fuss to be had during it's phase.

and tonight is no exception, though boreum wishes that she could have been spared from the misfortune. but it's unlike her to receive a stroke of luck - so much, in fact, she's considered that having ill-fated encounters may be an ability of hers on it's own. so, it's with this misfortune looming over her, coming in the form of a nearby table with snickering, young mutagens, that she approaches jaeyong, face flushed and grip so tight on her pen and pad that her knuckles turn white.

".. t-they w-want an a-autograph," she squeaks out, having been coerced into asking him by the neighboring table. she's the perfect target for these types of demands, and it took them all of five seconds after she'd stuttered through reading back their order for them to figure it out. ".. t-they said that they're.. uh, b-big fans.." boreum shakily extends out her note pad, having nervously ripped the previous page off to give one of her most notable regulars space to scribble down his moniker. there's been plenty of times she's managed to embarrass herself in front of jaeyong - like when she had stumbled over her own two feet and dropped a banana split that she'd been carrying to another table right in front of him, the child who was meant to receive the sweet treat bursting into hysterical tears, in turn making him burst out in laughter - but this one might just take the cake.

[jaeyongdx]

jaeyong laughs, quite proud of himself for anticipating what sparky wanted to say. "predictable," he says with a smirk. it's all in good fun, of course. that's how it is with sparky most of the time, really. all in good fun.

he watches as sparky makes the omelets, cracked eggs quickly solidifying into their edible form. he listens, too, as sparky tells an absolutely ridiculous story. his eyes narrow in suspicion at first, but he ends up laughing regardless.

"what, did he have like..." he tries to think of what nepa would call an ability that manifested entirely in only being able to speak in squawks and chirps. "bird vocalization...? as his ability...?" he laughs again.

"i think you just made that up," he decides, playful smile returning to his lips. "creative, though. i am amused and satisfied." sometimes a good story is better than the truth, in jaeyong's opinion.

"i got to spend hours today putting names to faces of people i would likely interact with in my line of work," jaeyong sighs, clearly a little irritated. he probably shouldn't be outwardly frustrated with his work as a d tier enhanced agent at all, but it isn't what he thought he was signing up for when he took the job. he thought enhanced agents were heroes, or were at the very least doing something more exciting than press conferences and photo ops. the b tier and c tier agents are – even the d tier agents training for those roles. jaeyong, however, had the honor of being chosen to train under an a tier mentor.

whatever. he knows this is for the best in the long run, but the long run will likely be in a decade, when nepa finally decides he's worthy of making his official debut to the public as an a tier agent. there are some benefits, though. as boring as it is, he's learning details about important people. he stores all of it away in his mind as fuel for a future strategy: who is in control of the wall's security. who is the lead researcher in nepa's labs. which agents have the greatest contact with the highest levels of the korean government. whose loyalty to nepa has cracks. who has weaknesses he can exploit. who has strengths that could prove useful to him later. these are the people he must spend the next several years of his life befriending and carefully manipulating in order to achieve his goals.

and then maybe one day he'll kill them. but he has a long way to go until he gets that far.

"there's like a nepa agent yearbook," he continues, after a beat of silence. "pretty sure that's confidential information, so don't tell anyone i told you." he smiles, but more subdued this time. he doesn't know if it's actually confidential. he trusts sparky not to tell anyone, and if he does, he trusts that whoever hears it probably won't believe it. it sounds so silly, and sparky is so eccentric. after all, how would he know something like that?

After busy weekends with partying throughout the district, the following Monday nights were cross between blissfully and disturbingly quiet which thrilled him to no end. As much as he loved to cook, busy nights meant he was swamped with orders and didn't really have time to interact with customers.

This this time of night, however--morning? night? time was still a weird concept for him, even eight years later. For Sparky, for nearly two decades, there had simply been "daytime" and "night time"--nothing more, nothing less, and he often lost track of the passage. In fact, all he could rely on were the seasons and moon phases--much like the early ancestors, right? Calendars? Weeks? Not helpful unless he wanted to get to specifics. But apparently, those specifics were important to people--especially when it came to employment; it wasn't like he could just not abide by any set work calendar, so Sparky relied pretty heavily on setting alarms and reminders in his handy-dandy smart phone to make sure he actually showed up to the diner on time.

He was a work in progress.

But oh! Look at that! Quiet nights brought out the more delightful regulars, and he was more than happy to prepare two perfect omelets for him. The moment Jaeyong asked about his weirdest patron, Sparky immediately spun around, spatula in hand, ready to point it dramatically at the guy with "YOU!" as a proclamation ... before the stipulation was placed that his answer could NOT be Jaeyong, warranting his lips to be frozen mid-syllable before he could even get the world out. His expression morphed into a sarcastic pout. "Killjoy," he muttered with a tease, his face returning to a smile as she returned to the omelets.

"Hmmm ... weird patrons. I guess that would be this bird guy," he continued to speak as he cooked, voice carrying over the sizzling sounds of the skillet. "He spoke only in, like, bird calls. I had no idea what he was trying to order, and the server had no idea what he was trying to order, but he pointed to a picture of an omelet, so I started making an omelet, and he went berserk because I guess he didn't realize that omelets are made from eggs, and he started, like, squawking like a chicken and hopping all over the place, knocking things over. Kinda reminded me of a demented cucco from the Zelda games."

[jaeyongdx]

⎯ ✂ ⎯ flop ⎯

on the list of things jaeyong loves, devil's asphalt is pretty high on the list. to be fair, the band has gone through multiple iterations at this point, with jisung as the only real staple, but still. he loves playing guitar, and he loves the stupid band.

does he love the people in it? well. that's a different story. to be fair (2), jaeyong isn't really a lover. he is way more, as they would say, a fighter. but this group is pretty fun overall. despite nari's grouchy attitude, and jihu's wet cat aura, he's been enjoying the new lineup after the previous one crashed and burned.

there is one problem, though: park mujin. their drummer.

don't get jaeyong wrong, he's good at the drums. if he wasn't, he wouldn't be in the band anymore, because he is always late to practice, if he even shows up at all. jaeyong is also not one to take much outside of his training seriously, and he doesn't think he takes music that seriously, but he does just want to play some fucking tunes. that's pretty hard without a drummer. they can play some acoustic stuff for fun, but if they want to stick to the devil's asphalt sound, drums are a necessity.

as they're wrapping up yet another rehearsal mujin was late to, but that he was kind enough to grace with his presence eventually, jaeyong pauses. he considers the course of action for a moment – thinks about how to approach the situation. he doesn't particularly want to make it a big ordeal, but he does want the dude to actually show up, so it'll probably take a balance.

"hey," he calls to mujin eventually, as he puts his guitar in its case. "i'm gonna need you to start...at the very least, coming to practice. or like, text one of us if you'll be late or can't come. it's really hard for us to play when we spend half of practice wondering if we're going to have a drummer for the day or not." for as confrontational as the words are, they're calm and relatively amicable. for now.

⎯ ✂ ⎯ @mujindx ⎯

[jaeyongdx]

he doesn't know why seoyun can't just leave him be. surely it is in the best interest of both of them, especially seoyun, for him to keep walking. but maybe seoyun appearing beside him is karma for all the times jaeyong has irritated seoyun in the past year of them no longer dating.

( cw: brief gore )

jaeyong looks over at him, paying little mind to his empty threat. it's the first time he's seen him since the vision or nightmare or whatever the fuck it was nepa gave him, he realizes - the one with seoyun's eye sockets empty, body covered in gore and blood. for a second, he expects this moment to shift into something horrific too, but it doesn't. they're just in a grocery store, and it's just seoyun asking questions with greater weight than he could ever imagine.

part of jaeyong wants to tell him - wants seoyun, or anyone, to know what they're doing to him - what he agreed to let them do to him. but he can't. telling seoyun endangers jaeyong, and daeyong, and seoyun himself. even if he trusts that seoyun wouldn't sell him out, he doesn't trust nepa to leave them be. they could search the minds of everyone in his life for evidence of loose lips on his part, for all he knows. he wouldn't put anything past them.

and if he tells seoyun, breaking up with him would've been pointless. he went about it as cruelly as he could, so seoyun would hate him and want nothing to do with him anymore. then he wouldn't have to worry about having a boyfriend that could feel every new ache and pain inflicted on him in the name of science. he wouldn't have to worry about seoyun asking questions, such as what the hell is wrong with you? but of course jaeyong can't really avoid it. all of it still brings them to this moment, and to seoyun asking questions.

jaeyong is battered and bruised in more ways than one, and he is not in the mood to grin and lie like he usually would, but sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do.

he looks from seoyun to the cereal box, then back to seoyun in fake confusion. "what? do you have beef with oreo o's? last i knew it is a perfectly reasonable food to like." he smiles then, the shit-eating grin that he's sure makes seoyun want to punch him even more. maybe him being annoying will be enough to make seoyun walk away.

or maybe he'll recognize the small cracks in his facade today. if he's being realistic, he probably will. seoyun knows him too well, and that's on jaeyong. sure, seoyun is more harmless than most, but there is weakness in being known - weakness he can't afford to have, but that he'll never be able to fix.

seoyun hates going out in public for a multitude of reasons. the screams and cries of children grate on his patience. he has little consideration for people who walk too slowly or talk too loudly or can't mind their own business. there's days where he wishes his abilities were something that could turn off his senses, to stop the world from perceiving him altogether, so he could just go about his business in peace. but most of all, the worst thing about going out in public is that he absorbs everyone's pain like a sponge, unable to control his ability that has been 'broken' ever since the death of his father.

so what starts as an emergency grocery trip, because everything in his fridge has expired and seoyun has been too tired to eat for the last two days and it was too late to schedule a delivery, turns into a gauntlet of everyone else's ailments. it starts with seoyun limping into the store after taking on the arthritic pain of some old man's knees. he's grabbing milk out of the fridge when he feels the sharpness of a new gash some poor employee inflicted on their own hand from a box cutter, and then he's just about ready to double over while an overtired mother gets relief from her migraine for the first time all day. going out among the living is truly a torturous existence for seoyun; no one realizes how much pain everyone is living with until he takes it all onto himself.

what takes him by surprise, however, is the sudden itchiness and ache of a thousand small cuts, all from the same person. for a moment, seoyun wonders if someone's ability is paper cut attraction and that they may be even more unfortunate than he is. but then he looks at his thumb, free of any blemish, and realizes that this pain is all too familiar. for a moment, seoyun mentally traces the aches of his own body, mapping out the scratches and scars on himself. jaeyong, he realizes, and he wonders why that poor guy-- no, that asshole --feels like he's been put through the world's weakest wood chipper.

seoyun resents that his first reaction is concern. he resents that he initially took a step as if to locate the source of the pain, as if he was going to help the man who hurt him in a way no one else ever could. he hates the fact that he never really got over song jaeyong and that behind all the rancor and hurt, a yearning for affection still remains.

he can't help himself from looking around and he's not surprised when he spots a familiar mop of blond hair. "i'd punch you in the face but it'd only hurt me." seoyun remarks, a scowl wrinkling his forehead. it'd be easier to ignore jaeyong, to pretend he never noticed he was there, but seoyun can't just let live and let live. not after what he did. "what the hell is wrong with you?" there's so many meanings to the question, but seoyun knows that jaeyong understands what he's really asking. why are all your scars reopened? what the hell are you doing?

[jaeyongdx]

jaeyong hums, equal parts amused and condescending. she has spirit, at least. she isn't afraid, like she probably should be. she seems relaxed, for the most part – certainly lacks the same desperation to succeed that jaeyong has packed into every bone in his body.

he reminds himself that despite her requesting to see what he's got, this isn't about showing off. it's about both of them finding ways to improve their skills.

he focuses too, settling into the moment, that familiar sensation, like he's in another world and time slows. he reacts to yingyue's movements easily, blocking them. he chuckles. "brave." it's not that he expected her to cower. he just didn't expect her to go on offense so quickly, especially from her initial stance.

he considers the next course of action for a moment: let her attempt to break through his defenses again, or go on the attack himself? the first might be more constructive for her, but it's also more boring for him, and of course, when given the chance, jaeyong will choose himself over other people.

he strikes quickly, equal parts force and precision, aiming for yingyue's right shoulder. it might hurt a little if she doesn't block successfully, but that's just part of training.

yingyue moved forward, her breath steady through a quiet storm of thoughts that spiraled underneath her calm persona. needless to say, combat wasn't her strong pursuit but that didn't mean she wasn't determined. she moved with precision, each step calculated, as if dancing on the edge of a blade with her body. but, she didn't doubt that she wasn't as honed as jaeyong's who carried grace was rooted in his balance of physical and mental harmony.

the glance from jaeyong—her mind was adhering to the temptation to reach out, to trail amongst the edges of his thoughts and mind, to discover his intentions behind his movements before they formed but she dismissed the idea. that wasn't how she wanted to win. not fair and square, to be sure. he seemed to have an enigma in him that displayed the drive to be the best. yingyue wasn't here to pry on him or use her abilities to gain the upper hand. ethics, she reminded herself.

it's important to keep her power contained, she wondered if jaeyong knew that she could slip into his thoughts but she needed to focus on the outcome. "let's see what you've got!" she said, her hands rising into a defensive stance, a small but almost imperceptible grin playing at the corners of her lips. she wasn't here to win but wanted to learn about how to refine herself in the crucible of combat.

the calm before a storm, her focus narrowed onto jaeyong's movements. there was tension in her heartbeat, her breath was slow but she wasn't ready to conquer, but to endure. her body shifted, aiming for speed rather than force as she launched quick, fluid strikes toward his side. it wasn't aggressive but rather probing at his reflexes, a way to secure a reaction.

[jaeyongdx]

"galbitang!" jaeyong announces, smile still on his face.

when jiha asks about his grandparents, jaeyong says, "they're good!" to his knowledge, anyway. he still doesn't spend the most time with them, and they seem like the type to not "burden him" with their worries. ultimately, their wellbeing never concerned him for over 20 years of his life, so it doesn't have to matter now. (it does though. at least a little.)

"they have a new hole in the wall. courtesy of someone with pyrokinesis, apparently. rogue fireball burnt straight through," he makes conversation easily as he slips in to jiha's apartment with another smile.

"so they have to get that fixed sometime," he continues idly. he makes his way to the kitchen without further invitation, and sets the container of soup safely on the counter, used to the routine by now.

"my grandma was telling me stories about yours today. did you know they stopped a thief together? that's what she said, anyway. some guy stole a purse and they got it back. she could've just made it up, though," he mostly-jokes. he trusts his grandmother's word, even though lying about something like that would be characteristic of their family. "do you think your grandmother would remember?"

jaeyongdx

⎯ ✂ ⎯ normalcy ⎯

he also learns what teachers should be like from his grandparents, as new and precarious as their budding relationship may be. they tell him about their students every time he visits, and he listens, sincerely interested every time. normal. warm. every now and then, his grandparents have him run errands for them. today's errand is a fun one: bring food his grandmother made to jiha and his grandma, an old friend of theirs. once he arrives at their front door, he carefully balances the food against himself to knock loudly. jiha is the one that greets him, and jaeyong grins, lifting the food for jiha to see. "grandma sent me with sustenance."

jiha had always been taken care of. though his dad had died, his mother did her very best to take care of him, always supporting, always by his side. even when she died it wasn’t like the world was ending, because his grandmother was quick to act, taking jiha in and making sure he felt loved, making sure he felt protected.

for a long time jiha and his grandmother had done well, she’d buy groceries, would make dinner when he returned home from school, she’d wash and dry his clothes, in short: she spoiled him. she was always there, when he needed someone to talk to his mother about, when he dropped volleyball, when he got hurt. but it’s often that good things don’t last forever.

as time passed, the roles switched, she became old, her memory poor. jiha had to clean her house by himself, bring her groceries, either cook a meal or order food, and she was no longer capable of always being there. he no longer had anyone he could talk to about his mother, and if he was feeling unwell, either mentally or physically, he had to take care of it himself.

so he’s thankful when other people offer their help. when he hears the knock on the door he’s quick to teleport to the door and open it. “hey jaeyong! what did you bring along today?” he asks, though truthfully he doesn’t care, if it’s food, it’s food, and he’ll be thankful for it. “how's your grandparents doing?”. “ah!” he steps to the side “come in” he smiles to the other.

[jaeyongdx]

I come from a long line of people with something wrong with them

[jaeyongdx]

⎯ ✂ ⎯ late night conversations ⎯

jaeyong thinks he has the landscape of toast & coffee figured out by now.

for example, weekends always have some degree of business no matter what time of day (or night) it is. late week nights tend to be more predictable, and a lot less busy. after six months of coming at least once a week, he's started to recognize some of the other patrons as staples of toast & coffee on that night of the week. sparky, of course, is also a staple. he's been working every late night jaeyong has been a customer for as long as he can remember.

he also knows that on monday night at midnight – tuesday morning, technically – nobody sits at the diner counter except for him.

thankfully, it wasn't "a rough day at the office" today, but he did have to spend time in the labs after his regular enhanced agent duties, and he also had band practice. so goes most mondays, and even when the schedule is different, he usually finds himself at toast & coffee at midnight anyway.

"so," jaeyong begins, resting both of his elbows on the counter and his chin on his hands. sparky is in the process of making jaeyong's requested two omelets – one for himself and one to take back home to his twin brother. "who was the weirdest patron you had today? and you can't say me. that's cheating."

⎯ ✂ ⎯ @sparkydx ⎯

[jaeyongdx]

⎯ ✂ ⎯ day one ⎯

PAST: 2023, jaeyong's first day at n.e.p.a. hq

jaeyong doesn't get nervous.

in some ways, he's trained his whole life for this moment: standing outside nepa hq, staring up at it for the first time as an enhanced agent, not just a pinnacle institute student, or a high schooler pushed into a dream he had to achieve by any means necessary.

in some ways, he's made it. in other ways...he's barely beginning, and there's still so much left to do.

the first thing he has to do is go in the building, though. the second: find the room for his orientation as a new agent. he has the room number memorized, but also written on a sheet of paper, just in case he managed to forget.

when he steps through those doors, though, as pristine and imposing as they are...maybe he's a little nervous. more excited than anything, though.

he looks around, taking in the view of the lobby, wondering if the people within it are important people he'll become familiar with, or just passing faces.

there's also no real indication of where the fuck he needs to go. instead of wandering around trying to find it himself at the risk of being late, he decides to head over to the front desk.

the girl working it is cute, bright-eyed – probably capable of persuasion via batted eyelashes. it's just the vibe she gives off. "hi," he greets her with a bright smile. "could you point me in the direction of room c240? or do you maybe have a map or something?" the building is fucking huge even from the outside. he imagines he'll get a tour, but even for as good as jaeyong is at remembering directions and surroundings, he doubts he'll get it all right away.

⎯ ✂ ⎯ @dxayane ⎯

[jaeyongdx]

⎯ ✂ ⎯ a familiar ache ⎯

yesterday, the scientists put a pause on the torture related to his power detection ability in favor of exploring his ability to unheal – or more accurately, see if he could heal. they seem to think daeyong's pain empowerment ability is indicative of some potential in jaeyong to do the same, or to regenerate, like his younger brother.

(cw: abuse, injury)

so they made him unheal some of his own wounds – only small ones. not the long, diagonal gash from his chest. not the scar jaeyong earned when his own father held a knife to his throat and sliced just deep enough for jaeyong's life to flash before his eyes – a lingering warning, a threat at the hands of the man he shares his ability with. just the small scars, like a couple on his hands from failed knife tricks, the elbow he skinned falling off his bike like a normal child – the small cuts on his arms inflicted upon him by his parents to build his pain tolerance and remind him just how much they could make him bleed.

the thing is, small wounds add up, and scientists are not so easily satisfied. they know the farther they push him, the more likely they are to achieve the result they want. jaeyong knows that, too. but they also all know jaeyong is one of their own, and they would prefer to keep him alive. so they are careful with him, at least compared to daeyong – at least for now.

they were kind enough to send him home covered in bandaids. jaeyong spent an hour in his apartment's bathroom after, expertly tending to the injuries like he has hundreds of times before.

pain is a natural part of healing. in a couple weeks, he'll be fine again, the only evidence of re-opened wounds being scars that might be a little more noticeable to someone who memorized all his body's bumps and blemishes.

today, though, it hurts. his long-sleeved shirt keeps rubbing against the fresh scabs on his arms, and the cut on his thumb stings every time he moves it. but life goes on, and so does jaeyong. it doesn't matter if it hurts. it never has.

what matters is restocking his and daeyong's fridge and pantry, because always ordering food is expensive and jaeyong still needs to feed daeyong enough to make up for six years of vitamin slop and liquid protein.

he's scanning a box of cereal at the self-checkout when he feels it – or feels him, more accurately. relief. the stinging fades a little, but the relief is unnatural – the result of a mutagen power. jaeyong can tell immediately, and maybe he could tell even if he didn't have his own ability to recognize others. because the sensation is familiar – almost as familiar as daeyong sending a thought to him, or his mother tampering with his mind. he'd know what seoyun feels like anywhere, really.

and seoyun knows what he feels like, too. it comes with the territory of a man with pain absorption loving a man who might as well be an open wound. seoyun knows too much. he doesn't need to know more. he doesn't need to notice the new scabs where scars used to be, and if anyone has every mark on jaeyong's body memorized, it's seoyun.

so jaeyong freezes, keeps his head down, and stares blankly at the back of the cereal box in his hands, hoping seoyun just walks by.

⎯ ✂ ⎯ @dxseoyun ⎯

[jaeyongdx]

⎯ ✂ ⎯ real ⎯

lately, he's starting to understand how daeyong feels.

today, the experiments lasted well into the night.

usually they tell him what they're planning to do, to give him some illusion of choice. sometimes jaeyong considers saying i don't want to, just to see what happens, but he figures it's not worth the risk. besides, so far, none of it has been worse than what he's already endured in his life. some sick part of him shares the same curiosity he's sure the researchers have, too: how much can he take? how much can he bend before he breaks?

today they didn't tell him. they just came with a big syringe, and said this is going to make you unconscious. you'll be safe. he wonders if they think he's stupid – if they think he hasn't seen his brother's memories, and leafed through the fragments of reality and whatever they planted in his head. he'll be safe? he doesn't trust them. he hates them. sometimes he considers killing them all. the lead researcher has a nice scar on his neck, and on his arm. he isn't sure if he could bleed him out by himself. maybe.

but they injected him with whatever shit they had in the syringe, and he blacked out within seconds.

he caught on quickly, after a few startlingly realistic and detailed dreams – memories, but slightly off-kilter, something always a little wrong. they weren't him. of course he could tell he didn't conjure the images himself – at least not entirely. they wanted to see how precise his power detection was.

he probably should've pretended he didn't notice, but jaeyong's pride will surely be the death of him one day, because instead, he pointed it out, over and over: that's not real. i see you. you'll have to do better than that.

( cw: body horror, gore )

and they did. first it was even smaller changes to his memories – some he's sure he didn't notice in their entirety. and then they switched the approach, disrupting pleasant memories with horrific imagery: teenage daeyong's body splitting in half from his smile, cockroaches crawling out. one of his nephews he held in his arms exploding, covering him in chunks of their flesh. seoyun laying beside him smiling at him in one moment, then covered in blood and missing his eyes in the next.

not real, he said, despite the churning of his stomach. this isn't real, he said, despite the tightness in his throat and the prickling threat of tears in his eyes.

when he woke up – actually woke up, he didn't know where he was for several long moments. he just knew it felt different. he looked around wildly, searching for something unnatural to call out, and slowly reality sunk back in. the scientist in the chair beside him jotted something down on a clipboard, then said, thank you jaeyong. that's enough for today.

he doesn't get home until past midnight. he leaves his car in the parking lot at nepa hq and walks. he needs air. he needs time – to steel his defenses, to blink the vacant look out of his eyes and face his brother, who is not a pile of blood and guts. hopefully.

their apartment is dark when he arrives, and jaeyong takes his phone out of his pocket and uses the flashlight to make his way forward without tripping on anything. he shines it toward the couch, unsurprised to see daeyong there – more surprised that his eyes are open, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

"hey," he says, voice low, as if there's someone else he might wake up in the apartment. "what's up?" he's stopped asking are you okay? because daeyong is never okay. they broke him in there, leaving a mentally mangled version of his brother behind for jaeyong to drag out. none of this is okay.

but it also is. daeyong is here. daeyong is free – physically, at least. he is not a pile of blood and guts. he can eat real food and see the sunlight and sleep under a blanket when he gets cold. they can't hurt him anymore. jaeyong will do whatever it takes to make sure they can't hurt him anymore.

⎯ ✂ ⎯ @daeyongdx ⎯

[jaeyongdx]

⎯ ✂ ⎯ break the surface ⎯

PAST: training at the pinnacle institute of mutagenic excellence

there are some things jaeyong is fine not being the best at. for example, his literature class in high school. he didn't need to get the best grade in his algebra class, or be picked first for team sports.

there are other things he must be the best at, though – the things he trained for, bled for, sweated for and cried for. the lessons he learned the hard way – surely harder than any of the other students at pinnacle. he has so many scars to prove it, with nearly every inch of skin on his body bruised sometime between now and his childhood.

part of him realizes it's unrealistic to beat every student at the pinnacle institute in every aspect of their training. the rest of him will try anyway. he worked too hard and suffered too much to be anything other than the best. if he isn't, then what was it all for?

martial arts is at the top of the list of things he must be the best at. his father is a taekwondo instructor. he can't remember a day in his life he's gone without practicing his kicks and hand attacks, or a day in his childhood where he wasn't blocking incoming attacks.

he knows that's why the instructors pair him with the students with a lot to learn sometimes. jaeyong would rather face worthy adversaries, but he also understands the value in being able to teach something. he takes it as a compliment, too.

today, his partner is yingyue. from his observations, she's not terrible. about average, he'd say. she's not very memorable to him in general, if he's honest. he hasn't spoken to her much until now.

"let's spar. i don't really know what your ability is yet. i'll go easy on you," he says.

⎯ ✂ ⎯ @dxyingyue ⎯

[jaeyongdx]

⎯ ✂ ⎯ normalcy ⎯

sometimes, there are odd moments where jaeyong feels like his life aligns with what a life should be. a normal life. a life with warmth.

for the longest time, jaeyong didn't know anything was wrong with his life. he knew his parents were a little stricter and he had less free time than most, but not everyone was trying to become the best enhanced agent nepa had ever seen.

he didn't know how cruel they were – how any normal person would be disgusted if they knew how he and his siblings were treated. he didn't know until after he made it into pinnacle, when his parents loosened their grip on him and he experienced the training that had a reputation of being back-breaking enough for most students to drop out before graduation.

in comparison, his pinnacle education was kind. he learned what teachers were supposed to be like. sure, maybe his mother and father's ways were effective – he graduated as one of the best students in his class, after all – but there are some things he will never forgive them for.

he also learns what teachers should be like from his grandparents, as new and precarious as their budding relationship may be. they tell him about their students every time he visits, and he listens, sincerely interested every time. normal. warm.

every now and then, his grandparents have him run errands for them. today's errand is a fun one: bring food his grandmother made to jiha and his grandma, an old friend of theirs.

once he arrives at their front door, he carefully balances the food against himself to knock loudly. jiha is the one that greets him, and jaeyong grins, lifting the food for jiha to see. "grandma sent me with sustenance."

⎯ ✂ ⎯ @dxjiha ⎯

[jaeyongdx]

⎯ ✂ ⎯ we've made it ⎯

it might come as a surprise, but jaeyong doesn't care about being famous. he's training to be a tier a enhanced agent, 1. against his will, and 2. because it puts him in the best position to negotiate more rights for mutagens.

he's in a band with jisung and the others because it's fun, and he likes music and performing.

the adoring fans are a bonus. and it's a fun bonus! sometimes jaeyong looks up their band's name on twitter and instagram just to see if anyone is talking about them. and sometimes people are! some of their fans take really good pictures of him, actually, not that it's easy to take a bad picture of him.

he thinks the most interesting discovery of the day is going to be the argument two of their fans are having over whether he's an asshole or not on twitter, but then he sees something else: song jaeyong x moon jisung, soulmates au, 5,938 words, and a link to that archive website. people call it ao3, right?

now, jaeyong isn't stupid. he knows what this means. he springs up from his spot sprawled across his bed, puts on his shoes, and leaves.

he runs up two flights of stairs, stops outside of unit #603, and takes his keys out of his pocket.

he bothered jisung so much that he ended up just giving him a key to his apartment. perks of the most annoying member of your band living a mere floor away from you. in other circumstances, jaeyong might just ring the doorbell to be a nuisance anyway, but this is urgent, so he just uses the key and lets himself in.

"moon jisung!" he hollers, before he even properly shuts the door behind him. "i have important news!"

he takes his phone out of his pocket and opens the tab with the fanfic open, holding it out to jisung. "we have our first fanfic."

⎯ ✂ ⎯ @dxjisung ⎯

[jaeyongdx]

⎯ ✂ ⎯ limbo ⎯

his ears ring a little. maybe ring isn't accurate. buzz, maybe.

the scientists seem very interested in his power identification ability these days. well, they always have been, but they've been testing it more lately.

(cw: electrocution)

today came in the form of electric shocks - harmless, allegedly. he had to tell the difference between the mutagen they brought in with electricity manipulation and their weird electrification machine they tried very hard to soften into something other than a more palatable electric chair.

surely they know he knows. he's seen what they did to his brother in this place. he knows the brutality they're capable of, so he doesn't know why they're so polite to him - why they act like none of it happened when he knows the discoloration of the tiles in this very room might be from his brother's blood.

but they treat him humanely, or as humanely as they can treat anything they shock repeatedly for the sake of science. to their credit, the shocks really did physically all feel the same. he could just tell the difference.

when they take the contraption they covered his eyes with off and tell him that's enough for today. thank you, jaeyong, he asks, "so, how did i do?"

they don't tell him. they just leave him in the room to recover and leave in his own time, still with that buzzing inside his head. he feels a little strange. disoriented, maybe. who knows what they really zapped him with. maybe it was electricity or maybe it was some brain-eating virus that will turn him into a cyborg for nepa to control entirely.

it hurt, too, but he's been hurt worse before. he didn't yell, or cry - just grimaced at worst. it's gentle, in comparison to what he's seen in daeyong's mind.

but he knows it's getting worse. the experiments were normal at first. blood tests, tests anyone could complete regardless of ability, ripping open scars on chunks of flesh - well, maybe the last bit wasn't normal. it wasn't invasive though, and it didn't hurt.

he isn't exactly afraid of what comes next - of the fact that it's been six months of this and they are shocking him and he doesn't know when this will end, if it will ever end. there's nothing about time in his contract. maybe he will spend three nights a week here for the rest of his life, every day worse than the last.

he thinks of daeyong, and all of his fear and torment - all of the scrambled thoughts and memories and pain, and he wonders if in time, he'll end up the same way.

he still thinks it's a fair exchange, if it means daeyong gets to live a real life now, like jaeyong has lived for the past six years without him. maybe, six years from now, after they've put his brain into a blender more times than he can count, the world will be different. maybe they'll have all the information they wanted and they'll let him go, or he'll graduate to a tier sooner than they anticipated, and let him out of this godforsaken pit for good, to make sure he can always smile pretty for the cameras. he doesn't trust them, though. part of him fears that they'll drag daeyong back here the moment they let jaeyong go.

if they ever do.

the buzz is just a faint hum by the time jinah opens the door, and jaeyong perks up, typical crooked smile on his face within moments.

"they wouldn't tell me how i did," he complains, despite the smile still lingering on his lips. "i got all of them right, didn't i?" he doesn't know if jinah will know the results of the experiment, but he suspects she'll tell him if she does. she was the one that told him daeyong was here in the first place, after all.

⎯ ✂ ⎯ @dxjinah ⎯