#264: Pain, Will you return it

[lordchen]

Prompt: #264
Title: Pain, Will you return it
Pairing: Chen/Chanyeol
Rating: R
Warnings: violence, swearing, deaths of lots of extra characters, MAMA powers
Word count: ~15,9k
Summary: Jongdae is dangerous, and he's fine -as fine as a runaway can be, alone with his bitterness, his scars and his pain. But one night, Chanyeol comes, and everything bursts into flames.
Author's note: To OP, I hope I didn't go too far with your prompt -it really inspired me, and I had tons of fun writing this, so thank you for offering me the opportunity to write.
To C, without whom I would never have finished this fic. She helped me focus, and she helped not giving up, more than she can possibly imagine. Our writing sessions together really were the highlight of my summer, and, more than finally participating to Chenpionships, it is going through this summer and this fic with her that made me really, really happy -I'm glad we found each other.
Finally, to you, reader : Thanks for the attention, I hope you'll enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it ~
[Title from 'Strangelove' by Depeche Mode]




Jongdae's breath is coming in short pants, way too loud for the narrow, dark street he is crouched in. His lungs are screaming, his thighs quivering, and he doesn't know if he will manage to actually move them when time will come for him to run again. His hand stutters, the skin prickling just at the surface, and he digs his nails in his arm, eyes closing. He tries to even his breath, but the prickling intensifies, spreading to his entire arm, and he grips harder.

The pain is unbearable, it has been for hours now. His whole face feels like it is on fire, but the scream he wants to let out is sealed behind his panting lips. He feels it, the electricity, trapped under the skin of his arms, of his shoulders, crawling through his cheeks, his torso. It hurts so much, like sharp, sinuous snakes digging into his muscles, eating through his flesh. His skin is raw, burning but not quite : it isn't slow, licking, almost tender, like fire, but fierce, shrill and biting ; he can map out the new lines that it is leaving on his skin without a mirror. He just has to follow the spliting pain : one his forcing his way above his nose to reach his right cheekbone, another is fleeing to hide behind his left ear, another runs so high on his left cheek it is almost cutting through the eye, one is crossing through his collarbones to curl like a cat just above his heart, adding to those he already has on his arms and stomach. Jongdae feels one slowly rising along his throat, his chin, towards his mouth, and he feels like throwing up. Now, there is no way he can pass through police roadblocks without getting caught, looking like this.

Shouts suddenly echo somewhere near his hiding place, but it is far enough not to worry of being found. Above the city, thunder rolls quietly, but Jongdae ignores the stir in his stomach. No more killings today. He sighs, forcing his eyes open -his left eyelid can only lift half-way because of the electricity still running through his skin. He wonders briefly if the pain will eventually die out, then lets out a cold chuckle. Of course not ; his entire body is prickling with electricity that keeps the scars awake any time. He slowly rises on woobly legs ; his thighs ache, his entire body hurts, both because of the escape and the wounds, but now he's used to it -it never ceases anyway. Jongdae takes a last look to the deserted street before throwing his hood to cover his dishevelled, muddy hair -maybe once they were black, he doesn't remember-, and his marked face, the dark strikes of the lightening cutting through the palness of his creased cheeks. He needs to get out of here.




Jongdae enters the small inn with cautious steps -but not too much, he knows that being too jumpy will inevitably seem suspect. His hood is covering most of his face, but thankfully, hiding is not uncommon in such a cheap, run-down hotel. In his pocket, his hand tightens around the few coins he managed to earn by begging in the streets earlier -he snorts at the thought : the police never comes to him when he's all hunched up in the gutters, a dirty, worn out body lost in a large coat like an old beggar, even when their patrols march right in front of his nose. Being a homeless, begging in the streets, is the best way to become invisible in plain sight -he's not even faking being one, actually.

The inn isn't crowded, this late at night, which is a good thing -less people to navigate through if he has to escape. Jongdae walks up to the counter, and his gloved fingers hand the innkeeper enough money to stay the night, then he asks for a full meal. Damn, it's been so long he last had a proper supper. The man, with broad shoulders and jet black hair, hardly spares him a glance and absent-mindedly points him a nearby table. Jongdae is used to people not looking at him ; he scarcely is charismatic, or even good-looking, with his too sharp cheekbones and even sharper eyes : one peek at his twisted, asymetrical mouth usually makes people look away, uneasy. They subconsciously spy the underlying danger, they feel that they're the prey in their exchanges. But being invisible is fine with Jongdae, really -you don't want to be attractive when you're a criminal on the run.

Jongdae sits quietly at the wooden table, already occupied by another person, and waits for the innkeeper's wife to bring him his dinner. She's quite pretty, he notices when she sets down a steaming plate of soup and a slice of bread in front of him : short blond hair, wide hips and nice lips -it's a shame she has to hide in such a filthy place. She doesn't comment on Jongdae's lack of luggage, and promptly leaves him to his dinner ; Jongdae allows himself a slight smile, the smell of hot soup filling his nostrils – food, at last. It's been a long day.

He's two or three greedy spoonfulls into his bowl -he knows he shouldn't eat so fast, the hot liquid shooting down his throat just makes the pain from the scars even more agonizing-, when he catches on the corner of his right eye a curious, flickering light. It's gone in an instant, but Jongdae is now discreetly watching the other man sitting at the extremity of table. He's tall, ridiculously so, and his hood is hastily covering half of a mop of bright, silver hair ; it doesn't hide, however, his face, way too young and handsome for this part of town : wide mouth, straight nose, almond eyes and huge ears adorned by three silver earrings each. His coat is fancy, not disgustingly so, but enough to clash with the other clients' simple clothes, and Jongdae wonders what a boy like him is doing here, at such an odd hour of the night. The kid seems awfully nervous, twisting his ringed fingers on top of the wood in front of him, casting tense glances at the door. Jongdae looks away, and resumes in eating his soup. Maybe the boy ran away from his house to meet some girl, or some friends of his, or-

The door opens loudly, crashing on the wall, startling the few clients still scattered in the inn, then suddenly, a flow of armed policemen in dark uniforms pours into the inn. « Shit. » Jongdae mutters. He couldn't even finish his soup, goddamnit. He stands quickly while the patrol starts inspecting each client, ready to run, to escape -again-, but he staggers when the boy at his table bolts up, the most frightened look he's ever seen distorting his traits. Everyone in the room turns towards him, and after a moment of silence, someone on the next table lets out a loud gasp. It takes a few seconds for Jongdae to proceed what he is seeing : the light from earlier, curious and flickering, is back ; only now it is a fully shaped flame, and it is burning right in the boy's hand. The fire is already starting to lick the wood when the innkeeper and a few clients start screaming in terror.

Two full seconds are enough for the patrol to begin to move towards the scared kid, and for Jongdae to make his decision. He grabs the slice of bread with one hand to stuff it in his pocket, while with the other, he seizes the bowl of steaming liquid on the table, and splatters its content on the face of the nearer officer -such a waste of good soup, he thinks sadly. The shock and the deafening cries of pain that ensue allow Jongdae to quickly grip the kid's coat -his hands are still on fire, good lord-, and to start making a run for the back door -he knows where it is, he always checks for a way of escape every time he enters a building. The boy is startled, almost a dead body between his gloved fingers, but Jongdae has got no time to shake him out of his torpor : his own body is beginning to realize what is happening, and the adrenaline running through his veins is quickly waking the sleepy prickling of electricity. Jongdae doesn't want another storm tonight.

He pushes a few clients on his way, and just when he hears the policemen chasing them, the boy at his side wrenches from his grip and starts running on his own too. Jongdae crashes the back door open, and comes out in the cold, silent night. He doesn't turn away to see who is following him, just keeps running as far as he can. He doesn't even think about directions ; his feet already know the city by heart, and anyway, he just can't think at all : his lungs scream, his muscles ache already. The pression under his skin becomes so strong he can barely breathe ; he knows his scars are red and fuming, and he wants to swear out loud - he's used to the pain, but even he has his limit, and he feels like teetering on the edge of passing out. He forces himself to focus : the shouts of the patrol are slowly distancing from him -the police can lock the city all they want, Jongdae is still the king in this playground. He makes a final turn to the left and climbs swiftly over a high and desolated fence then stops altogether ; panting, he lets himself fall on the dusty ground and closes his eyes. Fuck, it hurts so much.

A few seconds after, he feels the fence moving against his back, then hears a body landing ungraciously beside him. He can't bring himself to lift his eyelids, but he actually swears out loud anyway. The kid has followed him. Fuck. Jongdae hears him shift somewhere at his side, and he forces an eye open, out of curiosity. The boy is sprawled on the ground, his silver hair damp with sweat, chest heaving under his expensive coat, but his eyes, deep grey, wary, worried, are stuck on Jongdae. Good, they should be -Jongdae is the danger, here.

Jongdae doesn't want to keep on staring, not really -he knows his own eyes are weary, weary of beholding the same alarmed look when people look at him, a face hidden under a hood-, so he gets up, aimlessly dusting his clothes that were dusty months ago, and heads for the wooden shed that stands a few meters further into the wasteland. He sighs and takes off his hood, running his gloved hand on his face; it's only when he steps into the dark hut, crawling with spiders and maggots, that Jongdae realizes the kid has followed him -again. He turns towards him, a scowl on his face ; Jongdae's usually not that mean to people, really, or at least he wasn't when he had actual people to talk to, but honestly, right now, he's tired and hungry, and all he wants to do is lying down and hoping for a slumber that will never come because it never comes anyway, thanks to the pain from his scars. The wounds hurt like a bitch, and he knows he should be used by now, but at this very instant, all he wants to do is scream. So he glares at the boy, who is way too taller than him, and it infuriates him even more. Jongdae doesn't want to be angry, he's just tired.

« Go away. » His own voice flashes, ripping the silence like a thunderbolt, cold and hoarse -Damnit, how long it's been since he last spoke clearly to someone ?

The kid licks his lips, nervous, and shifts ; his silver hair shines prettily in the moonlight.

« Thank you, for saving me. »

The voice is low, loud, rumbling, like thunder, and it reminds Jongdae so much of the stir he always feels in his stomach when he fights or runs so fast that he feels his head spinning.

« It wasn't you I was saving, it was myself.» Jongdae says plainly -he's not even lying, actually. The police would have arrested him too, and he doesn't want to end like this, cornered in a shitty inn because of some scared kid.

« Well, thanks anyway. » The boy answers, blinking.

Silence stretches for a few seconds, and Jongdae backs a bit further into the room to lay his coat on the hard floor. The kid doesn't move, and it's unnerving even when he's trying to ignore him.

« Go home. » Jongdae says without looking at him, building his makeshift bed, not caring about the harshness of his tone.
« I can't. »
« Then leave. »
« I can't either. The city's locked, nobody's allowed in or out. »
Jongdae chuckles coldly and mutters. « Yeah, I would know . »

The boy blinks again, and Jongdae lies down on his coat. His back hurts like hell against the wooden floor, but honestly, his front is so much worse, and he hardly cares about the uncomfortability of his position. He closes his eyes, and tries to even his breathing. This is usually the time when he lets himself slowly slip into inconsciousness, when he allows himself to bathe into the tender, soothing prickling running along his body, the vivid, passionnate strikes he feels stroking his skin. Night is the only moment he allows himself to admit that he actually likes it. He never really sleeps, because the electricity in his arms and face and everything prevents him from falling into slumber ; but being at peace with himself, wallowing sweetly in his pain like this is already such a relief.

« What happened to your face ? »

Damn, he almost forgot the kid. Jongdae opens an eye -the boy is still standing, his head nearly touching the ceiling full of cracks and holes. He's watching Jongdae, like before, his eyes wary, worried, even though Jongdae is in the most vulnerable position he's ever been so far -Jongdae almost wants to laugh.

« I got a bit carried away. » Jongdae answers flatly.

The kid's eyebrows furrow, and really, Jongdae's too tired, and the pain is so excruciating he thinks he might be on the verge of passing out, so he really doesn't want to deal with a lost kid right now.

« Now, you want to spend your night standing or you're actually going to lie down on your fancy ass coat ? »

The boy emits a borborygm, and proceeds to remove his coat to mimick Jongdae's position. Jongdae closes his eyes once again -he actually can't keep them open anymore, because his face his harrowing- , and waits for the shuffling beside him to stop. The boy stops shifting after a few minutes, and his hesitant breaths seem to crash against the very air surrounding them. A last thought flashes through Jongdae's mind before he succombs completely to the blinding pain :

« Careful with your fire thing, this shit is built with wood. »

Then he completely loses consciousness.





Jongdae wakes up from a sleepless trance a few hours later, his eyes tingling with fatigue and electricity. The loud snores echoing through the walls of the wooden shed remind him quickly of what happened the day before, and he wants to sigh already -but actually, that's not what woke him up.

He feels it again, a soft, albeit stinging poke to his cheek, and he opens his exhausted eyes. Just in front of his face, a slim cat is sitting, white, with black spots all over its shabby fur. The animal is looking curiously at Jongdae, its eyes huge, green, and hollow, and again it presses his paw against Jongdae's skin. It makes the electricity excitedly rush through his limbs, through his scars, and Jongdae has to close his eyes once again because it's too early and it hurts so fucking much. Slowly, he turns on his side to face the poor-looking cat, and he brings his own hand up to stroke the beast. It promptly starts to purr, a loud, low, rumbling sound, like thunder, that reminds Jongdae of the stir he feels in his stomach. Jongdae smiles.

The cat looks contented, but at the same time so empty, so emotionless, so disillusionned, and Jongdae feels like he's looking in a mirror. His gloved fingers catch on bruised patches of skin, but they are clumsy and insensitive because of the thick leather ; it angers Jongdae -it's been so long he actually got to touch something with his bare hands. The purring gets louder, and the cat keeps his paw on Jongdae's cheek -it must feel the tingling running through the skin, and those sensations, the cat's paw on his face and the prickling all over his body, feel marvelously good.

The animal's eyes are uncannily expressive, insistent, almost daring ; the cat doesn't blink, while it slowly pushes its claws into Jongdae's cheek. Jongdae shivers ever so slightly, something just like excitement running along the constant tension in his veins. Slowly, he lifts his hand from the cat, and slowly, he removes his glove with steady fingers. He's not trembling when his digits come closer to the animal's face, nor is the cat. He feels the electricity, delighted, racing to his fingertips -it makes him shiverish. The cat blinks once, and its claws catch Jongdae's skin one last time before the hand swoops between its ears in an ultime stroke.

The cat falls dead in an instant, his eyes still opened, void. Jongdae keeps his hand on its fur, keeps petting it, relishing in the cooling softness of the bolted hairs. It hurts so much. A smile spreads on his face, and the electricity runs happily, contented. He stays there minutes, hours, stroking the tender cat, until the snores beside him slowly quiet and the form of the boy's body stirs, awaking slowly. Jongdae observes the back stretching slowly, sore, while the silver mop of hair moves blindly, taking in its surroundings. Suddenly, the body turns towards him, and Jongdae finds himself facing two crimson red irises, fluttering with surprise and uncertainity. The red is already fading, though, quickly bordering on hot pink, then gold, slowly consuming ; and Jongdae almost lets out a gasp -those carmine orbs were so beautiful.

« Hi. »

The voice is still loud, low, rumbling, like thunder, and Jongdae wants both to purr and to slap himself. He's so weak in the morning. The boy's eyes flicker downwards, where Jongdae's bare hand is still gently petting the animal's body.

« What happened with the cat ? » he asks, his voice curious.

Jongdae doesn't answer right away, instead burries his fingers further in the fur, scratching the skin almost harshly. Jongdae's hand is pouring electricity and the corpse is visibly buzzing, shivering, palpitating as if it was still alive.

« I killed it. »

An involuntary smile spreads on Jongdae's face at his own words, the burn of his scars increasing, and the boy stares at him for so long that Jongdae starts to feel jittery. Quickly, he removes his hand from the cat and puts his glove back, caging his fingers in their leather prison. The kid looks at him carefully as Jongdae gets up and swiftly picks up his coat, sparing no glance to the beast at his feet. Promptly then, he follows suit, getting up, brushing his silver hair out of his eyes. Jongdae glimpses hastily at his face, still as young and smooth as the day before, then goes for the door -the sun is already seeping through the cracks of the wooden walls.

« Wait, are you going to leave it here ? »

The voice is loud enough to stop Jongdae, and he turns with a sigh. The boy is standing, still looking at the tiny, tiny body on the floor. He glances at Jongdae, questioning, and Jongdae shrugs. It's not like he intended to burry it or whatever. The boy frowns, then catches the limp animal between his long, gracious digits, and takes it to Jongdae, who is looking longingly at the bare fingers handling the cat.

« I'm going to burn it. » The boy explains when Jongdae raises an eyebrow at him. His eyes are back to gold, and Jongdae feels the electricity rush with excitment through his body.

He follows the kid outside, and watches hungrily as the cat is carefully put on the dusty ground. Eyes turn crimson, and flames arise lazily, deadly, from each fingers, coming to lick at the palms. Big hands wrap gently around the little form of the animal, and slowly, oh so slowly, the fire catches the fur, extending through the hairs, stroking the flank, scratching the ears, and finally piercing the skin. Jongdae is enraptured.

The boy stands up, and both men stay in silence while watching religiously ; the cat is burning, fire dancing on its body, every piece of limb flying away to ashes, to finally blow in the wind. The pyre burns a couple of minutes only, but it feels like hours to Jongdae who is fervently contemplating. He knows his scars are glowing, he knows there's tiny flashes thundering all over his neck and face, he knows the hairs on his arms are standing in goosebumps, he can sense it, he can even picture it -and damn, he feels so good.

The fire dies slowly, turning to hot pink, then gold, then slowly consuming to grey, leaving a pile of dust over the dusty ground. Jongdae lifts his head towards the boy to catch his eyes, scarlett.

« So that's your thing, fire, heh. » He says matter-of-factly.

« Yeah. » The boy answers, his voice hoarse and tense. There's still fire at his fingertips. « And yours is electricity, right ? »

Jongdae emits a surprised noise. « Oh, you got it. Is it the scars ? Or the cat ? »

The boy lets out a unexpected bark of laughter, brief and stiff.

« Well, you're kind of glowing right now. » He gestures to Jongdae's arms, which are bright, almost blinding, tiny thunderbolts racing all over his transluscent skin.

« Oh. » Jongdae says, caught a moment in gazing his own thunderstorms inhabiting his body.

« That, and ... » The boy continues, hesitant. « There's this kind of tension, like when you know a thunderstorm is coming, and the air gets heavy and you can't breathe properly. I felt it as soon as you stepped into the inn. »

« Oh. » Jongdae repeats, something stirring in his stomach.

This tension, he knows it well, he lives with it every goddamn moment of his life.

They both stay silent for a moment, the boy looking pitifully at the cat's ashes, and Jongdae trying to calm down a bit -the more he gets excited, the more his scars will be painful, and today is not a day where he wants to hurt.

« Where will you go now ? » The boy inquires suddenly, and Jongdae runs his hand on his own arm, as if he
could convince the electricity to go back into his bones.

« I don't know. I'm gonna make some money, I guess. »

The boy nods, then goes back to silence. Jongdae is starting to consider leaving, because if he doesn't find a the street to beg in soon, he will never have enough to eat -it's been three days with an empty stomach now.

« But what will you do with this money ? »

Jongdae furrows his eyebrows at the kid who is watching him expectantly.

« Well, I'm gonna eat. Then when I'll have enough money, I'll get the hell out of this city. »

« But the city is locked. » The boy answers, looking confused.

« Duh, I know. » Jongdae deadpans. « That's because of me. »

The kid opens his mouth, then closes it back. He blinks, observing Jongdae, pensive, and Jongdae gathers his coat in his arms -they aren't thundering anymore, that's it at least. He's making a move to put his hood on when the boy speaks again.

« Would you take me with you ? To leave the city, I mean ? »

Jongdae scoffs.

« Why would you want to leave the city ? You obviously have a very fancy and loving family. »

At his words, the boy's eyes -they're grey again, Jongdae notices- become desperate, hurtful. Jongdae lifts his hands in surrender. The boy didn't ask questions, he won't either.

« Anyway, why would I take you with me ? You should have guessed by now, I'm a fucking runnaway, and you don't want to live like that too. » Jongdae continues, sneering. « You don't even have to live like this, it's obvious. I'm already a criminal, and you're just … you're just a scared child. » He sighs. « Go home, this playground isn't for you. »

He turns away and starts to walk. Honestly, he doesn't need, he doesn't want a kid around. He should have left in the morning, left the boy in the shed ; but the image of the burning cat comes back to his mind and Jongdae shivers, and the prickling intensifies. Damnit, it was so pretty.

« I can help ! »

The deep voice echoes through the wasteland, bouncing in the cold air. It's loud, and so desperate, and Jongdae turns back reluctantly. There's so much of himself in this voice, he can't help but look at the boy with the silver hair and the inflammable hands. He's standing tall and straight, oddly proud in his vulnerable begging, and while his voice has been frantic, his eyes are nothing but fierce and daring. Jongdae's skin is itching.

The boy doesn't explain further, instead reaches inside his coat, takes out a round purse and opens it : the bag is full of golden coins that shimmer in the early morning. Jongdae grunts. He could use a bit of this to eat, at least, and start to actually earn and save money to plan his life out of the city. He's been wandering, hiding from the police for weeks now, and his attempts to escape the town have all been fruitless, but also useless without anything to live on once he is outside.

The boy is watching with determined, fearless eyes ; his irises are suddenly firing gold, and it's beautiful. Jongdae grunts once more and shifts. He moves to pull back his hood on his face, and starts to put on his coat.

« What's your name, kid ? »

« Chanyeol. » The boy answers, and his voice is deep, so deep it penetrates through Jongdae's bones, and echoes with the electricity burning his skin.






Jongdae learns quickly that he actually made the wrong choice, taking the kid with him : Chanyeol is no fit for this life. It's not the creaky beds of cheap hotels, the days without eating, or even the dirt of the endless pavement that bother him, no -he follows Jongdae diligently, obediently, and sometimes, or most of the times, Jongdae thinks he looks stupid doing so ; no, it's just that the kid can't stay still more than a minute, and that's just unnerving when they are supposed to be -or actually are- starving to death.

« Will you fucking stop fidgeting ? You're gonna have us caught ! You already have this stupidly bright hair, stop moving so much ! »

It's been a few days since the scene at the inn, Jongdae guesses -he lost all notion of time a while ago anyway-, and while Jongdae has discovered that talking to somebody other than himself is actually pleasant, he's starting to regret his decisions. Begging in the street is a tedious activity, and Jongdae mastered it long ago, with his pain and thoughts and wandering eyes for company, but Chanyeol -Chanyeol just can't. Maybe he is not as comfortable as Jongdae is in his own head, but the boy is an impossible bunddle of blazing energy, and it makes Jongdae's skin graze.

« 'M'sorry » Chanyeol's too loud voice answers from under his hood, and the boy stops moving.

It's close to the end of the afternoon, if Jongdae can guess from the hurrying crowd marching past them. They're in a frequented street at the edge of the city -dangerous, Jongdae knows, they already saw at least three patrols in the district, but more people means more chances to get money. They already earned a few coins from considerate oldmen and haughty ladies -not much, but it's hard to hope for more. Jongdae could earn a bit more if he decided to sing, but he can't afford exposing himself so much -even if he admits he misses singing out loud.

Beside him, Chanyeol starts to shift once again, and Jongdae's patience is running low. They still have a couple hours to go, they can't leave so soon -and anyway, what for ? Jongdae has nowhere to go. Jongdae is ready to snap at the boy once again, when he spots a group of policemen heading towards their corner of the street. They're numerous, they're armed, but it's too late to tell Chanyeol to calm down, and Jongdae's heart is already starting to beat faster ; he feels a rush of pain along his scars, and the electricity in his arms running faster. He is used to this, to the adrenaline pushing through the control he tries to maintain over his power, and he knows he can take over by focusing and forcing his body to obey him -but he soon realizes that Chanyeol, Chanyeol cannot anymore.

The patrol stops just in front of them, discussing or doing their patrol thing, and Jongdae knows the air is getting heavier because of him. Chanyeol is fidgeting more and more, and Jongdae is tense, so tense. He casts Chanyeol a glance, as discreetly as he can, and his jaw tightens : sweat is pearling at Chanyeol's temple, his hands are twisting in his lap, his eyes are gold, slowly darkening to crimson, and Jongdae wants to scream.

Someone nearby noisily exclaims « Oh, why is it so hot suddenly ? », two guys from the patrol turn, and Jongdae knows one second before it happens that Chanyeol just yield. A bright, orange glow darkens his vision, and Jongdae swears out loud before bolting up : long, large flames are just starting to lick the pavement, already catching the wooden shops nearby and the benches along the street. People start to scream and scatter, while the policemen, slow as ever, only gather their senses. Jongdae quickly covers his mouth with his gloved hands as the fire spreads all around them -the air is getting so heavier, but he doesn't know if it's because of Chanyeol's flames or his electricity responding to it.

Chanyeol is still sat on the pavement, and he's watching with horror the flare pouring from his hands. He doesn't seem to be able to stop it, and the first shrieks of pain shrill in the stiffling afternoon air. Jongdae makes a grab of Chanyeol's arm, forcing him to stand up and come to his senses. The boy blinks at him for an instant that feels like hours, and Jongdae is so fascinated by the carmin orbs where the flames are dancing that he almost manages to ignore the scared desesperation oozing from it. It's so hot around them, and Chanyeol's face is drenched in sweat, but Jongdae's hairs on his arms are standing in goosebumps, and his scars are burning so scorchingly hot, it makes the heat and the pain feel ice cold.

A grip on his own arm forces Jongdae to turn his gaze : one of the policemen that was standing near them caught him, and his grasp is unbelievely steady for someone that is half suffocating because of the fire. Adrenaline pushes through Jongdae's system, and he wrenches his arm from the policeman's restraint, stumbling a bit. He sweeps his elbow at the man's stomach as hard as he can -he learned some techniques, running from patrols during all those months ; the man lets go, thrown back in the circle of flames.

«Chanyeol, run ! » Jongdae screams to the boy beside him, and breaks into a race through the flames.

The blazing columns lick his feverish skin, adding to the electricity scratching his body like nails and knives, but he keeps running -he's in so much pain, from his scars to the prickling, with the fire around him and his lungs burning, and he feels so alive. He passes the barrier of flames, and risks an eye behind him. Chanyeol is running, too, a few meters behind, but so is the policeman from earlier – it seems that the others couldn't pass the blaze. The policeman's uniform is half on fire, he's got burns all over his face, and his mouth is opened in a silent scream, but his eyes are hard, focused on Chanyeol. He's starting to gain ground, and Jongdae knows if they don't get rid of him and disappear soon, they'll be caught quickly by other patrols nearby.

« Just fucking do something Chanyeol ! » He hollers, his throat hoarse, filled with dark smoke.


He turns back towards the street and his muscles wail, but he continues to run. Behind him, he suddenly hears the sound of a deflagration, then a roaring, harrowing yell, and his face splits into a grin. Thunder echoes above his head, and he wills his excitement to calm down -they're nearly safe, he doesn't want to screw everything up. Still, he wants to laugh so bad.

The two men don't stop running, turning into narrower and narrower streets, passing dumbstruck onlookers and avoiding distraught patrols until the sounds of the fire can't be heard at all. They collapse, panting, against the dirty brickwall of a shadowy path in a poor district, near the edge of the city. The silence is deafening, after the shouts and shrieks and howls and the cracks of the fire. Jongdae's breath is slowly recovering, even if his scars are still spliting his body apart and his limbs still feel on fire -that pain, he's used to. He closes his eyes, trying to calm his heart beating maddeningly fast ; he concentrates on his breathing, relaxing, meditating, rests his arms alongside his body. He feels serene.

Beside him, though, the breaths are not slowing down -they're quick, eratic, wide, shuddering. Chanyeol must not be used to running from the police -Jongdae almost snorts at the thought, but he doesn't know if he's mocking the boy or himself. After a few minutes of the melody of Chanyeol's panicked breathing filling the street, Jongdae is starting to wonder if something is wrong, but then the pants suddenly stop, then a voice, too loud, and too fragile, resonates at his side.

« I – I killed a man. »

Jongdae snaps his eyes open, and turns his head towards Chanyeol. The boy is trembling violently, his legs and upper lip quivering, his face streaked with tears pouring from his eyes opened wide -they're still crimson red. His breathing is irregular, wheezing, he's inhaling like he can't bring his lungs enough oxygen, like he doesn't have any control over his own body, when he was provoking a fire half an hour ago. Jongdae watches him struggle for an instant, then starts to chuckle. The sound echoes in the dark street. His giggling turns into full-blown laughter when Chanyeol spins towards him, still crying.

« Why are you laughing, I killed a fucking man ! » His voice is hysteric, now, and he looks affronted -it only makes Jongdae laugh harder. « I- he was there, and I didn't think, I just threw, and then his face, his face was burning, and he shouted so long and- »

His voice breaks, then he keeps quiet. His breaths are slowly soothing, but tears are still painting his white cheeks -his eyes are consuming to pink, to orange, tenderly. Jongdae forces himself to stop laughing -he doesn't want the kid freaking out and punching him. He waits for the boy to calm down, relishing in the remanents of the ghost of excitement from the battle.

« It was like that night all over again. » Chanyeol speaks softly. Jongdae doesn't know which night he's talking about -he assumes it's the night at the inn. « I had all this fire suddenly pouring from my hands and I couldn't, I couldn't stop it, you know ? I ... »

The boy shudders. He looks so scared, so little, in his giant body, and Jongdae wants to laugh again.

« I can't control it. This policeman was after us, and I didn't think, the flames just launched themselves from my hands to his face. It was horrible. » Chanyeol's weary voice whispers in the empty alley. « He was shouting so much, he looked like he was in so much pain. »

« It didn't hurt ? » Jongdae cuts him for the first time. His voice is hoarse and unusually high-pitched ; he knows it is giving away how baffled he is, and he hates it.

« What, me ? Hm, no. » Chanyeol answers, obviously surprised by Jongdae's own surprise. His eyes are grey, now. « Why, does it hurt when you do it ? »

Jongdae doesn't answer. Chanyeol waits for an answer for a few seconds, then sighs and brings his still trembling hands to his cheeks to wipe them off.

« It was so scary. I can hurt or kill anyone by accident, just because I'm not able to master my power. I really wish I could control it, just like you. »

Jongdae feels a sharp shiver of electricity running through his body. He doesn't answer. Chanyeol sighs again, mumbles something under his breath, but Jongdae has already closed his eyes again, he's already gone.




It appears quickly that the surveillance in the city has been reinforced after their little show. Patrols are everywhere – literally everywhere, and it is now nearly impossible for Chanyeol and Jongdae to stay in the same spot for more than a couple of hours like they used to. They're bound to move a lot, and hide a lot – the police is now wary of beggars, asking them to reveal their face when passing in the streets, and the two of them, with Jongdae's scars and Chanyeol's hair and eyes, are just too recognizable. Jongdae doesn't need a lot more money, thanks to Chanyeol's contribution, but their progress is much more slow and careful, and Jongdae itches to just get away from this stiffling city.

They sleep in barns, run-down inns, sometimes shabby streets and sheds -anywhere they know the police won't barge in and arrest them. They spend a lot more time just the two of them, now, crouched behind walls or lying on roofs for hours, heart pumping slowly through their veins, waiting for patrols to leave the district. Chanyeol hasn't changed, though, and he's still as fidgety and nervous as ever. He can't stay in place for more than a few minutes, and Jongdae doesn't want another fire so soon -so he finds himself forced to talk a lot more to Chanyeol, who only manages to stop being so antsy when his mouth is babbling. Jongdae distracts him bredugingly, wincing everytime Chanyeol's voice gets a little too loud or too excited.

« Hey, can I ask you a question ? »

They're sitting on a red roof, maybe a week or so after the fire, legs dangling in the void, sun grazing the horizon of tiles and stones in front of them. Jongdae is counting the money they manage to earn today, the coins tinkling happily as they fill his purse one by one. Jongdae hums absent-mindedly, a light smile adorning his lips ; they earned a fair amount of money so far, despite their situation, and he's satisfied -one or two more days to go, and he will be able to finally make his leave.

« You never told me how you got that power. You know, the electricity and stuff. Where did you get that ? » Chanyeol's voice is curious, genuinely so.

Jongdae shrugs. His scars prickle, and he wants to scratch them -they always get a little too excited when someone talks about them.

« Don't know. It just sort of happened, one day. Dunno where it came from. »

Jongdae doesn't explain any further and comes back to his coins. Actually, he sort of knows where it came from -it was like it was always there, suffocating under the surface of his skin, of his brain. And it didn't really happened -more like it exploded. But he can't be bothered to say that to Chanyeol.

« Oh ! » Chanyeol exclaims, surprised. « I thought it was like me, that you had it from the beginning. »

He looks at Jongdae expectantly, as if waiting for him to question him. When Jongdae doesn't, he continues anyway.

« I've had this affinity with fire as long as I can recall. I wasn't really afraid, as I grew up with it. I mean, I knew I was different, maybe the only one- » He inclines his head towards Jongdae as if to indicate he's sorry for thinking that -and Jongdae doesn't see what is there to be sorry about. « But my family was pretty supportive, they didn't reject me, they helped me with this and … I was happy, you know ? It was warm. »

He chuckles stupidly, while Jongdae's eyes are binded to the blinding, blazing horizon. Fuck, his skin hurts so much.

« Why the fuck did you leave, then ? » Jongdae spits, and closes his eyelids for a brief instant, because the pain is nearly unbearable -as it has always been.

« Because ... » Chanyeol whispers, hesitant. His voice is lost, and Jongdae imagines his grey eyes are too. « Because I couldn't control it anymore. One day, I – I was playing in the garden, and ... »

Chanyeol exhales loudly, painfully, and Jongdae furrows his eyebrows. Damnit, he wants to take his gloves off ; his fingertips are aching and throbbing with electricity.

« And the flames just threw themselves at the dog, and I couldn't do anything, it was too late. »

Chanyeol's voice is so desesperate, it makes Jongdae suddenly open his eyes. He turns towards Chanyeol, staring in disbelief, but Chanyeol's face is torn by guilt and regret, and Jongdae can't contain himself anymore. He starts to laugh, loudly, his throat open and hoarse because it's been so long. He laughs so hard, bent in two, he almost throws himself off the roof, because he just can't stop laughing. Chanyeol looks hurt, and Jongdae just laughs louder, harder. He can't believe the irony of it ; he's probably the most dangerous criminal in the city, with electricity ready to burst out of him every moment, and he's sitting on this roof, hiding from policemen with a kid spitting fire who ran away from a loving family because he fucking burnt his dog. This is just fucking hilarious.

« Why are you laughing ? » Chanyeol cries, watching Jongdae's hilarity, powerless.

When Jongdae continues to laugh, mocking him openly, a frown begins to form at the side of his ever-smiling mouth and his brows furrow -it's the first time he's looking at Jongdae with something akin to anger. Jongdae notices the kid's palms are beginning to redden, but his own bones are buzzing contently, his scars are tearing his skin like raw knives, and he can't stop laughing.

« Why are you always laughing ?! » Chanyeol finally roars, and Jongdae knows his fingers itche to slap Jongdae's smile off his face. « Why are you always acting like I'm so pitifull because I want to protect the ones I love, because I can't control myself like you ?! Do you really think I'm that pathetic ? »

Jongdae snorts, and looks at the boy with a big grin, as if to indicate that it is exactly what he is thinking. It only infuriates Chanyeol more, and he spits at Jongdae, the anger so clear in his flaming eyes.

« I hate you, you and your disdain, because you're better than me at controling your power and emotions ! I wonder if you even have them, if you actually have feelings ! » Chanyeol shouts, and Jongdae is still laughing at his contorted face. « You just don't know feelings, you don't, you don't know what it feels like to have to leave your family behind, what it feels like to struggle to contain your power ! You just don't know pain, so stop acting as if- »

Chanyeol's sentence is cut short, dying in his mouth, stifled by Jongdae's gloved hand pressing harshly against his throat. Jongdae's not laughing anymore, his breath his labored, rage radiating from his eyes ; he knows Chanyeol can feel the prickling of the deadly electricity against his neck, only asking to be freed from its leather prison.

« Don't you fucking talk about me like that. » Jongdae's voice is merely a whisper, but it's enraged, violent, just like his grip on Chanyeol. « You don't know shit, kid, so don't you dare think I'm as pathetic as you. »

Chanyeol doesn't answer, only holds his gaze, his eyes burning, fierce with defiance but crimson with desire. They stare at each other, challenging, mesuring, discovering each other ; it feels like hours when Chanyeol finally lowers his eyes, scorching hot, and Jongdae lets go of his neck. The kid watches him get up and gather his things, wary but somehow deferential, and Jongdae looks at him, his silver hair and vermillon eyes, before turning to the sun disappearing, way ahead in front of them.

« We're gonna get the hell out of this fucking city, Chanyeol. And we're gonna do it quick. »






Heavy breathing is echoing through the night, louder than a hord of horses, and Jongdae wonders how the police didn't spot them already ; the boy is so noisy, even when he's not speaking, it is unbelieveable. He grits his teeth and goes back to observing the guards patrolling around the Nothern Gate to the city ; there is only a handful of them actually staying in front of the stony arch, as the casern is only a few meters away -that's why they choose this passage to escape.

« For fuck's sake, will you be silent ? You're gonna have us busted before we even started ! » He sneers in a whisper, turning around to glare at Chanyeol.

The kid is crouched down as well as he can, clawing at the dark wall behind them ; Jongdae knows his hands are already fidgetting, because they know what they are about to do, but he can't help but being annoyed by their recklessness. Chanyeol looks up at him guiltily, and tucks his hands away ; Jongdae sighs before sparing a last glance at the gate. There are now less than ten guards in front of it, the others having gone to sleep one by one and Jongdae knows they need to do it quick, before the changing for the rest of the night comes. He nudges Chanyeol with his foot, and the boy bolts up, nervous but already restless with adrenaline -his eyes are turning to gold, and his hands are trembling. Jongdae's lips seem to want to smile, and he feels the electricity rushing through his limbs with excitement -tonight is the night he finally gets out of this stiffling city.

« It's time. »

Jongdae's hushed whisper is loud enough for Chanyeol to be the only one to hear, and Jongdae turns again towards the main street. He hears Chanyeol, behind him, inhaling deeply, then putting his hood on his head. Their eyes don't cross when Chanyeol steps out of their hiding spot, and Jongdae only watches the boy's hunched back retreating further towards the casern. He quickly glances at the guards, ahead of him, but they don't seem to have noticed Chanyeol's silhouette walking up the street. Jongdae lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and settles to wait.

Their plan is somewhat simple : Chanyeol only has to go unnoticed to the casern standing a bit further in the street, and set fire to the building -a fire dangerous enough to get the attention of the guards in front of the gate, who are not numerous enough to split up. Once the way is clear, Chanyeol and Jongdae only have to cross the gate and vanish -and the city will never hear about them again. Jongdae feels jittery, almost giddy, and he can't help but tap lightly his foot on the dark pavement where he is standing away from prying eyes. His skin is moving on its own with the pulsation of the racing electricity, excited by what is about to come. He can't wait to see the small glow that will come from the casern, to hear the first screams of terror and the dreadful cracking of the fire burning down the building ; it should start any minute, any second now, and soon he will be free of-

Jongdae's foot stops and his smile drops suddenly when a tall silhouette comes to his view, its pace quick and frantic, almost running towards his hiding place -the hood carelessly thrown over the head doesn't hide all of the mop of silver hair peeking out of it. Jongdae clenches his fists, so hard he can almost feel his nails cutting his own skin through the leather of his gloves. Something flashes in his vision, and his ears get clogged under the pression rising in his own body -the boy has now arrived beside him, panting, trembling, hysteric, but Jongdae can't concentrate.

« What. Are you. Doing here. » he asks venomously through his teeth.

He isn't even looking at Chanyeol who is choking on his own panic, curled up on himself against the wall ; he is only trying to contain his anger and the want to scream.

« I – I just, » Chanyeol starts, shivering pathetically on the dusty pavement, « I couldn't … I couldn't do it, I- »

Jongdae lowers his head to look at him, his jaw clenched so hard he can hear his teeth screeching. The kid is watching him with wide eyes as he starts to sob, tears leaking out of his pale pink orbs. He has drool all over his chin when he tries to speak again, and the sight only upsets Jongdae more.

« I couldn't kill all those people, I'm so sorry, I just remembered the policemen and my dog and ... » His crying gets uglier, and Jongdae can't stand it anymore. « I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please forgive me, I'm sorry, I'm- »

Jongdae's grip seizing his throat cuts off Chanyeol's pleas when he drags him upwards towards his face. Jongdae is mad, so mad ; his eyes are blinded by lightenings, he knows his scars are glowing scarlett all over his face, he hurts so much and he wants nothing more than to crush Chanyeol's desesperate stare with his own fingers in this instant. He's not even focusing on Chanyeol, he is far from that -Jongdae is just forcefully trying not to murder the boy between his hands.

« Listen to me, you fucking piece of shit. » Jongdae's voice is low, hoarse with the anger he's holding back with more and more difficulty. « I did not come all this way, so close to my freedom, for a fucking pathetic kid like you to ruin it just because he's a fucking coward, a fucking child, you hear me ?! »

Thunder rolls above their heads, and the atmospheric pression gets suddenly heavier. Chanyeol is starting to breathe with difficulty ; his eyes, still stuck on his assaillant, are burning red, and Jongdae would have smiled if he wasn't so fucking angry.

« You want to be hiding all your life ? Fine, then. I'm gonna go get my liberty myself. »

Jongdae sneers at the boy one last time, then lets him fall on the ground carelessly. His body is vibrating, the electricity is running madly through is limbs, his scars are bleeding again and he just wants to tear his skin apart to free it all. Thunder resonnates again, louder ; his fingers are thrumming with excitement as they messily scratch his gloves off his hands -there are already dozens of thunderbolts flashing along his arms, and he stands for a second to watch them appear and disappear instantly on his own skin, hypnotized. Jongdae then throws a last look to Chanyeol who is staring, completely terrified, and smiles wildly at him, before tossing his gloves to the boy's lap, bringing his hood on his face then walking away towards the casern.

His gaze is resolutely fixed on the building a few meters away ; he tries to tell himself that he only has to summon a bit of lightening to crush over the casern then run away, and he is already feeling the stir slowly rising in his stomach, thunder ringing in his ears. His pace is fluid, albeit the crushing atmosphere now weighing on the city -the air is dry, and no rain will be able to lessen the danger of the oncomming storm. Jongdae's breath is ragged when he posts himself in front of the casern, odd silhouette in the middle of the street ; he tries to focus, tries to ignore the pain of his scars, the unbearable scratches of lightnings along his arms, the power creeping everywhere in his body, just asking to be freed. Instead, he concentrates on the sensation in the pit of his stomach, the turmoil that makes him sick, like a tiny storm in his body responding to the heavy black clouds forming in the night sky.

Loud thunder cracks echo like detonations, and Jongdae faintly hears some frightened shouts from somewhere in the street before his vision goes blinding bright. He feels the turmult in his stomach rising quickly like bile in his throat, and he can't help but open his mouth in an horrific cry of pain. At the same moment, a thunderbolt violently strikes the casern. The light is gone in an instant, but the intrications of the dazzling branches are printed on Jongdae's pupils. A second flies and the first screams echo, the first explosions roar, the first falling walls crash ; but the sounds are distant to Jongdae, who feels like he is split in two. His back is radiating with pain -he can feel the lightning drawing new scars on his skin, forcing their way across his backbone, spreading to his shoulder blades. His throat, hoarse from screaming, lets out a guttural howl when a line fights its way up his nape, then reaches the back of his head. It curls up there, piercing his scalp and cutting a passage through his hair. Jongdae's eyes water and his knees buckle under him – his head is on fire, the spliting pain hurting like nothing before, and Jongdae finally gives up fighting against himself.


Jongdae hears angry shouts, footsteps running towards him ; thunder rolls again above his head, and his brain goes blank. He lifts his head, deploys his body, then extends a hand towards the guard hurrying to where he is standing. Yells of pain are still coming from the casern, but Jongdae's gaze is focused on the nearing policeman who is aiming his musket at him. Jongdae feels his lips spreading into a wide, ferocious smile, just before his hand collide with the men's distorted face. The surge of power, pain and mirth he feels the second his skin touches the guard is overwhelming ; his laughter resonnates through all his shaking limbs while he finally, finally unleashes the ravaging force from the prison of his body. His blinded eyes can't detach themselves from the gurgling face of the man : the policeman's eyes are rolling out of their sockets, foam is starting to drip on his chin and oh, he's not dead yet. It makes Jongdae's smile widen, his laugh hysteric as he feels, as he knows the man's organs are shattering and blowing apart inside.

Soon the body under his hand stops moving, only buzzing with the electricity running free, but Jongdae is drunk on power, his entire being hurts so much that he can't think anymore and he's so happy. The street is chaos, the casern collapsing on the pavement, on the nearby building, on the people inside ; fire is spreading everywhere, and Jongdae doesn't move, relishes on his power, on himself being finally freed from the limits of his own body. Thunder rolls like a shout of victory as two guards launch themselves towards Jongdae's standing silhouette. Jongdae throws an electric discharge to one of them who dies on the spot, his body crashing with a delicious crack on the pavement, then turns towards the other, a young, fair-skined man with brown hair and a scared but determined look on his sweet face. Jongdae smiles gently at him when the youngster draws his two-bladed sword, then he cocks his head to the side and lets the turmoil in his stomach rise as it pleases. He watches with hungry eyes as the guard stops suddenly to run, his sword falling on the ground ; the boyish man throws a panicked stare at Jongdae while bringing his hands to his throat. His eyes bulge out of his skull as he chokes on the increasing pression of the air -his lungs gradually struggle to find oxygen, his face swells, blood flowing to his eyes and brain. Jongdae watches enraptured as the young man falls to his knees, smothered by nothing but the air and his own spit -he dies unhurriedly, his body convulsing on the pavement. Jongdae can't tear his gaze away from the beautiful sight.

It's only when a trumpet resonnates through his fogged brain that it comes to Jongdae that the noise, the chaos, must have alerted other divisions elsewhere in the city. He snorts while raising his head towards the sound of dozens of feet slamming the pavement -so much for a discreet runaway ; they're already screwed anyway. His smiles grows wider as at least forty guards rush towards him and he unwillingly lets out a giggle while raising his hands. The tornado in his stomach is sickening, and Jongdae laughs even harder when lightning strikes the first few men coming to him, pain radiating through all his body, new lines starting to map his thighs. He doesn't think anymore, he doesn't feel anything past the pain and the mirth, he explodes in volatile electricity and just as volatile laughter ; he feels like dancing outside his own body, too drunk on freedom and agony.

It takes a long time for Jongdae to realize that he's surrounded : dead bodies are scattered on the scarlett pavement, more guards are flocking towards him to try to stop him, electricity is flying all around his body, and a new, strange fire is spreading on the street, devouring shops and humans alike. This fire is not caused by one of Jongdae's lightnings : it's ferocious, crimson red, somehow desesperate ; it conqueers every corner of the street, advancing furiously towards Jongdae, who is still standing, dazed, overwhelmed by his own being, amongst the numerous policemen. In a fleeting second of immobility, they all watch in terror, as the flames lick their way with incredible rapidity -they can't do anything to avoid it, it's already at their feet. The soldier to Jongdae's left screeches with pain as scorching columns engulf him, and Jongdae wants to laugh, and his limbs burn, and his skin chafes, and his scars hurt so much, and he's going to die in a stupid fire, and he's so fucking happy. The flames finally come to him, hugging his throbing body, and oh.

At the same moment, a silhouette detaches itself from the fire, coming closer, dishevelled, a flash of silver, blinding like lightning, clashing against the red of the entire world. Jongdae starts to laugh as his knees give way under the pain pulsing in his legs -a deep, open laugh that resonnates with the cracks of the fire and the screams along the street. His vision becomes fogged by the flames envelopping himself, by the devastating agony of his entire being, by this astonishing mirth he feels. His laugh dies as his head collides with the pavement, and he struggles against inconsciousness a few more seconds. As the boy finally reaches him, he smiles wildly at him, eyes glazed, and he guffaws.

« You're so fucking pathetic. » Jongdae rasps before he lets the pain overtake his body completely.




Jongdae wakes up suddenly, startled by his own slumber -it's been months since he had his last deep, real sleep and he is so used to the hallucinating unconsciousness of his nights that this sensation of serenity nearly frightens him. It's almost dark, some time around sunset probably, but he recognizes immediatly the shed he is lying in -the one were he killed the cat, all those weeks ago. He almost wants to sigh -he fucked up magnificently. His body is throbbing, and he isn't even moving yet ; Jongdae groans, more of annoyance than because of the pain, and he hears a rustling somewhere beside him. He turns his head to the side, and immediatly regrets it -the mere movement causes his whole body to cry out and ache in agony, red angry patterns lightening up all over his skin. Jongdae winces audibly, because this is much worse than what he is used to, but he opens his eyes when he feels a hot breath blowing against his face.

He is met with two red orbs, flaming, curious, but wary and searching. Chanyeol is lying on his side, seemingly watching him for who knows long. The gloves are back on his hands, Jongdae feels it, and Chanyeol looks scared -scared of Jongdae. Jongdae snorts at the thought, because honestly, the kid is right to be, and the rictus throws spasms all over his face and fuck, it hurts. He hisses again, trying to stay still ; Chanyeol, after a few moments, lifts a wet cloth and slowly opens his mouth, still prudent, as he would be in front of a wounded feline.

« Do you want me to- »

« No. »

Both their voices are hoarse, but Jongdae's is firm against the uncertainity of Chanyeol's. The boy lowers his cloth with caution, almost apologetic. He does not insist, and remains silent. They stay a long time lying, facing each other, Chanyeol's eyes scrutinizing Jongdae's face, following the blazing scars, caressing the contour of sharp cheekbones and cutting jaw ; his pupils are wide, clashing with his irises burning with fear and desire. Jongdae's own eyes are lost somewhere between agony and consciousness, glazed with the sweet memory of running free out of his body, and the violent awareness of his weakened state ; he has known it for a long time now, his sheath feels too small, too narrow for his soul, and he is imprisoned in his own skin, and he already can feel the electricity trapped under yearning to be freed again.

« Can … Can I ask you a question ? »

Chanyeol's voice is like shouting in the dead silence of the shed, but it draws Jongdae away of his dangerous thoughts, and his gaze focuses on the kid's torned face. He doesn't answer, because moving his mouth would only hurt more, and he knows that the boy is going to ask anyway.

« Did it … Did it hurt ? The fire. My fire. Because it was like … You couldn't feel anything, whereas all the others ... »

Chanyeol falls silent, a guilty look on his face, and Jongdae wants to sneer. Of course the poor kid would feel bad about killing those policemen. Jongdae thinks again about the warm, ticklish sensation of the fire around him, embracing his body with tangible care and damn, if he wasn't struggling against the pain to keep himself conscious, he would probably laugh at how utterly pathetic the kid turns out to be.

Chanyeol is still watching him expectantly, waiting, and seems ready to ask again, so Jongdae winces a sharp « No », immediatly gritting his teeth. The kid utters a small oh, then falls silent. Jongdae tries to even his breathing, but the agony just burns so much and the pain does not want to fade and fuck.

« Why do you think- » Chanyeol begins again, and Jongdae is suddenly so angry to hear his voice, thoughtful but steady and tenseless.

« I don't know. » He snarls, bitting.

Honestly, he just want Chanyeol to shut up, because he can't concentrate on anything but his body screaming in agony right now and it hurts so fucking bad, it hurts beyond words, the scars are both tearing his very soul apart and keeping its pieces together and Jongdae is overwhelmed and he wants to throw up and the pain, the pain, the pain, the pain. His jaw is clenched hard to prevent his mouth from letting out whimpers, and he feels like he's trying to shut down his entire body to stop the electricity, his spirit, himself from running free, and it's a torture to be forced to cage himself. It's the first time he actually wants to cry in a long time, and he doesn't know if it is because of the physical ache or because of the awareness that this pain is only the one he's inflicting himself.

Jongdae allows himself to breathe loudly, as he tries to focus on something else and to return to consciousness. Chanyeol's prying eyes proves themselves a good distraction, and Jongdae willingly loses his thoughts in the contemplation of the flaming orbs contemplating himself -Chanyeol looks fascinated, hungrily detailling Jongdae's face in the midst of its own battle, and Jongdae finds himself fascinated too, by his own reflection, by the deep, enthralled expression of the kid. Silence falls again, and Jongdae slowly manages to push the pain on the back of his mind -it's still there, vibrant through his limbs, but his mind is far elsewhere, and anyway, Chanyeol's already opening his mouth again, looking hesitant.

« Hey … Earlier … What you did ... » The boy's voice wavers and his eyes drop, oddly embarassed.

« Shut up, kid. » Jongdae breathes, more steadily though. « I just slipped a bit. I can control my power. »

Jongdae turns his head towards the ceiling to escape Chanyeol's stupidly concerned face. He can make out the dust dancing in the last rays of sunlights piercing through the holes of the shed. He exhales deeply and fails to focus -the pain is back, so harsh and cruel, he's teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

« It won't happen again. »

Chanyeol doesn't answer, or if he does, Jongdae doesn't hear him -he's already gone.





It happens again. They stay in the shed during the night, more because it is their only option than by real choice -Jongdae still can't move without crying out in agony anyway. They are waken up in the wee hours of the morning by muffled shouts and an unusual cold -it's nearly freezing, way too much for this time of the year. They pack in a hurry, Jongdae's movements still sharp but far more at ease than the night before ; the violent, passionate pain has faded enough to return to the slow, loving burn he's used to. The cold is even more bitter outside, and they cross the wasteland shivering -or at least Jongdae is, because he's pretty sure the stupid kid can't feel the sting, what with his flames probably burning inside his limbs. They climb the fence, trying to minimize the noise, then start walking with caution along the narrow lane ; the shouts have stopped, and the city is still sleeping, drowsily bathing in the morning sweetness. Jongdae relaxes a bit, inhaling deeply the silence, and steps confidently into the main street -only to freeze right away.

Dozens of policemen are posted all over the street, most of them oddly soaked, with their feet wading in what looks like a huge puddle of water ; they look defeated, their guns and swords dangling from their beaten arms, and Jongdae would have wondered what just happened had a policeman nearby not gasped loudly upon seeing him -it's only when the guard yells « It's him ! » that Jongdae realizes he hasn't put his hood on.

« Fuck. » He whispers under his breath while shifting quickly his position.

A short glance to his left informs him that Chanyeol is petrified with fear, and Jongdae swears out loud. He's so angry, because the kid is once more useless, and because so much policemen everywhere means that there is no way to leave the city and it makes his blood boil with rage because he just want to get the fuck out of this fucking town -but honestly, at the same time, he feels so delighted.

He can already feel the electricity rush excitedly through his body, his scars redening, the pain coming back, the stir in his stomach -Hell, he can even hear thunder in his ears, and he's smiling so hard that his cheekbones hurt. He welcomes with great joy the cloud blurring his vision and his mind -it's so much easier to give in this time, to let the drunk feeling of power overcome his body and sharpen his senses. He allows himself to bathe in his newly returned freedom for an instant, a laugh bubbling on his throat at the piercing pain tearing his skin apart, then sends a gentle smile to the first row of policemen launching themselves at him.

He hungrily watches as the crowd of soldiers suddenly stops running, looking confused, then quickly, horrified. Some fall immediatly to their knees, bringing their hands to their throats, while others just wail in agony, their faces going red, then purple, their eyes bulging out of their sockets, their lips turning blue, their nose starting to bleed. Jongdae is almost hyperventilating as he keeps them suffocating, tightening the atmospheric pression just enough to prevent them from doing anything, but not enough to totally empty their lungs of oxygen -not yet. The more he keeps them choking, the more the scars invade his body -Jongdae is so high on pain, so drunk on power, so pumped on freedom ; he's shivering, feverish, and his nose is bleeding, he can taste his own blood, his own pain on his lips and fuck, why was he struggling so much against this before ?

« You could let them live. You could just leave them there, and let them live. »

Chanyeol's voice resonates through Jongdae's delirious mind, rumbling, mingling with the stir in his stomach and the bolts buzzing everywhere on his body. Jongdae's eyes are glued to the agonizing policemen, thoughtful.

« I could. »

His own voice is hoarse, grazing, vibrating deliciously in his eardrums. Jongdae contemplates the men in the street a while more -they're all on their knees, now, a few of them are shook with convulsions on the pavement, deadly silent. Jongdae exhales shakily, then his smile broadens. The bodies stop their spasms, and faint splashing noises echo through the street as they crash on the wet ground one by one. Jongdae turns his head towards Chanyeol, ready to defy a scandalized look, but he is met with two flaming orbs, red with desire, and Jongdae sneers. The kid is just as fucked up as he is.

« Let's go. »

Jongdae motions for Chanyeol to follow him and starts crossing the street towards an adjacent alley a bit further. They can't stay on the main road with such a carnage everywhere, and the only way to get away from it is to disappear in the narrow streets to reach another district of the city. They walk hurriedly, though Jongdae's legs are still quivering with adrenaline and the scars are still curling in new places all over his skin -the confrontation was somewhat silent, but the sun is shining higher and higher, and soon, the first merchants will go out to open their shops and Jongdae doesn't want to be there when they'll discover the bodies. They manage to enter the narrow street before anyone sees them, but Jongdae is forced to stop dead in his tracks again -because they can't go any further.

« What the- » Jongdae whispers in disbelief, Chanyeol just as dumbfounded standing beside him.

The street is blocked by a gigantic and very-deadly looking piece of frost ; it is at least three meters high, occupying all the pavement, and spiked with imposing stalagmites and stalagtites pointing menacingly towards them. The silver, almost transparent frost is shining under the morning sun, millions of tiny sparkles quietly tingling on the surface. The bitting cold emanating from it engulfs them both, and it oddly seems to ease the splitting agony ravaging Jongdae, like a balm on his scorching scars -not quite lessening the pain, but making it somehow more bearable.

« Chanyeol, burn it. » Jongdae urges, throwing a look over his shoulder. They can't stay here too long, and going back on the main road would be too risky.

« But it's so pretty ... » Chanyeol answers in a whiny voice, and Jongdae looks at him, bewildered. The kid seems mesmerized by their obstacle.

« Are you kidding ? Burn it, now !»

« Okay ... » The boy whispers, sheepish, and extends a hand towards the structure. A flame rises in his palm, and Chanyeol gently cups the ice on the nearest edge. He lets the fire stroke it patiently for a few seconds, then stills, before turning towards Jongdae, looking confused. « It-it isn't working, I ... »

« Chanyeol, » Jongdae growls impatiently, « I swear, if you're not- »

A shriek from the street behind him interrupts his threat, and both startle, panicked looks painted on their faces.

« Chanyeol, hurry. » Jongdae gritts through his teeth as another scream rings out, ripping their eardrums.

Fortunately, the sudden urgency of their situation seems to have Chanyeol's power working again, and soon, the ice is melting, attacked by a roaring fire. Jongdae looses himself a second in the clash of the frost against the flames, so vivid and beautiful, so violent ; but new yells, closer now, echo through the street, and the electricity, back in his body, seems to want to answer them. So Jongdae tries to shut his mind, grunting, and throws hastily his hood over his head. He snaps his fingers at Chanyeol, still mourning the death of their barrier, and starts to run.






They find shelter in an abandonned house, barely standing, in the dark corner of a street at the edge of the city in the shadow of the battlements. Most of the walls have crumbled down, and the wind is sweeping away the dust covering the floor -oddly enough, the house doesn't seem that old, but rather the victim of a recent earthquake, which can't be possible as the neighbouring houses are still all intact. Pieces of furniture are scattered, crushed under huge chunks of roof, but they still find a bed, in the corner of one of the rooms, in the middle of debris and draught. Jongdae almost runs towards it, because his little episode earlier had his scars, old and new, more awake than ever, and he just wants to lie down. The bed base creaks as he lets his body fall on the mattress that was once white, he guesses. He doesn't even know what he is looking at, maybe his eyes are closed -the pain is blinding him anyway. There are tiny bits of rock piercing his side, or maybe it's just his scars carving his body deeper, always deeper, he doesn't know. He moans in agony and rolls on the other side of the bed -the stony, cracked wall is cold, against his back, but it only fuels his power, and his electricity gets even more excited.

« You can't control your power. »

Jongdae cracks an eye open to see Chanyeol standing at the side of the bed, his eyes -they are red again, they always seem red when the boy is looking at him- fixed on Jongdae's striked face. His voice is firm, not questionning, but neither judging, and Jongdae grunts. He doesn't want to answer, not now, not ever, because his shell is already so cracked, and he hates words because they make him feel weak, when he is all about feeling and instinct.

« You can't control your power. » Chanyeol repeats, more fiercely.

« More like I don't want to control it. » Jongdae spits, bitter. « And you, on the other hand, can, so now shut up. »

Chanyeol hums lightly, and Jongdae tries to glare at him as the boy settles down by his side, but everything hurts to much, and he actually wants to glare at the entire world. The mattress dips dangerously in the middle, forcing Jongdae to reach a balance by staying on his side completely still, his head facing Chanyeol's. The room is too grey, too monotonic, and Jongdae can't look past the kid's red, red eyes. They flutter a bit, so earnest, so big, so scrutinizing.

« I think I figured it out. » Chanyeol starts confidently, never ceasing to observe Jongdae. « Why sometimes, my power doesn't work, I mean. »

Jongdae doesn't answer, the rocks on the mattress piercing his hips, small pain compared to the one running his back and legs. He wonders how much time before the scars take over his entire body and he can't tell them apart from his skin anymore.

« I … The things I cannot burn are the things I don't want to burn, like the things I like and people I … I love. » Chanyeol's expression is intense, and even though Jongdae still doesn't say anything, they both know what this implies. « So that means that I actually can control my power. You got it a while ago, didn't you ? »

Jongdae only nods, and the mere movements sends a shot of electricity through his spine ; he wants to wince but it would only worsen his state. Silence falls between them, but the boy quickly opens his mouth again, hesitant but thoughtful.

« Are you jealous ? That I can ? »

Jongdae scoffs, and he would blatantly laugh if it was not for his agony. Jealous ? The kid must be joking. There is no such thing as controlling, with his power ; there is only the tremendous affliction of trying in vain to choke down a force that is impossible to curb, of struggling against himself and the will to set his own soul free. Clearly, the boy is thinking too highly of himself, now that he knows he can protect his beloved ones and-

« I'm jealous you can't. »

Jongdae's glassy eyes focus on Chanyeol, flabbergasted. What ?

« I'm jealous you can't control your power. » Chanyeol repeats, with more determination. « You have no idea how you look like when you … slip. You are ... » He hesitates, detailling Jongdae's face almost tenderly. « You're so beautiful. Everytime you run free like that, you look so huge, so relieved, so happy. As if the body I can see in front of me right now is just a cage to something so much bigger, so much greater. You ... »

Chanyeol sighs, and Jongdae can only watch him, dumbstruck.

« You are so generous, you know ? It's as if you want to share whatever you possess, but the only thing you know is the raw pain of your scars, so you can only give everyone agony, sharp and slow agony, but that's not by sheer cruelty, no. And I think ... »

Jongdae's hand is itching under its leather glove, and his eyes are prickling, and fuck. He always thought he was only basic instincts and physical feeling, and that words could never describe how much of a beast he really is ; but Chanyeol, Chanyeol just proved him wrong. Chanyeol, the lanky kid scared of hurting people, is baring all of Jongdae in a few sentences and the boy's burning orbs become so warm, so caring that Jongdae wants to close his own eyes. Chanyeol shudders, but his gaze doesn't waver.

« I think you were given the wrong power. »

Chanyeol's voice is confident and so affectionate, and it draws Jongdae out of his surprised state to make him raise an eyebrow. It's only then that he realizes that the boy is looking at him in utter awe.

« I think you weren't meant to control lightning. You … You were meant to be the Sun. » Chanyeol asseses.

He looks so earnest, Jongdae doesn't even want to laugh.

«You shine, you shine so bright, you know. Even brighter when you get to be really free. You burn, but you are so much more limitless than my piteous flames. You feel so powerful, so evident. You're blinding everyone, but you also wrap yourself around our entire being and I feel so little, so insignificant beside you. You transcend everything, and that's exactly what the Sun do. So yeah, I think you should … you should be able to outshine everything else. You're already doing it for me. »

Chanyeol finally quiets, passion burning deep inside his eyes, and Jongdae smiles -a small but genuine smile, stretching his chaped lips just like one more scar. He says nothing, instead lifts his left hand, slowly, leaving it in mid-air a few seconds, then with his other digits, he deftly removes the glove from it. A moment after, he feels Chanyeol taking delicately his wrist between his fingers, covered with the tissue of his robe. Their eyes do not move, and his chest feels light. Chanyeol slowly brings up Jongdae's palm, until it is inches apart from his pale, vibrant cheek. Jongdae's skin is prickling contently.

« I could kill you, you know. »

Chanyeol doesn't blink.

« I could just kill you, and you couldn't do anything about it. »

The prickling gets heavier. It buzzes in Jongdae's entire being, and he feels at ease.

« I could just touch you, just lay a finger on you, and you would be gone in an instant. »

Chanyeol's eyes goes darker -or maybe it's the light.

« Or I could make it linger. I could increase the shock slowly, tenderly. »

Chanyeol's breath seems to stutter ; his eyes remains the same.

« Or make the pression of the air heavier and heavier till you could not breathe. Slowly, tenderly. »

Jongdae's hand is now a few millimetters above Chanyeol's cheek, and he's not sure who, between the two of them, is supporting it now. They stay in silence during what feels like hours, facing one another, simply looking at each other instead of trying to read what they won't be able to decipher. After a while, Jongdae sighs, taking his hand back to replace it on the mattress.

« You're too soft, Chanyeol. » He speaks up. « Too soft for your power, too soft for this world. Too soft for me. »

Chanyeol's too human for such an inhuman world.

Chanyeol grins, far too sad and far too passionnate, then his feature softens, and he whispers :

« Tell me your name. »

Jongdae only hestitates an instant, before answering a soft « Jongdae », letting his breath crash against Chanyeol's soft cheeks. He doesn't add anything as the boy's smile boardens, and lets Chanyeol scoot closer on their narrow bed, until his head rests on Jongdae's slowly rising torso. Jongdae knows the younger can hear his heart beating peacefully. Chanyeol shifts a little, then brings his hand up to burry his own fingers in his silver locks, pulling just a little and keeping his grip steady, while his other hand goes to his own hip, caressing the skin there.

« What are you doing ? » Jongdae asks, sighing as he watches down Chanyeol's messy mop of hair on his chest.

« I'm trying to imagine these hands are yours. » Chanyeol answers, eyes closed.

His rumbling voice echoes through Jongdae's rib cage. Jongdae stares at him a little more, then lets his head flop back on the hard mattress. The prickling remains, and he closes his eyes. A few seconds later, though, a deafening crashing sound booms outside, and what remains of the house falls down on them.

They both startle, Chanyeol gasping and putting his hands above his head to protect himself from pebbles and bricks. Jongdae swears and hastily puts back his glove -the ground is trembling, cracks are starting to run all the way up through the walls, and they need to get out of here now. He grips Chanyeol's coat and starts to run towards the broken window of the opposite wall, pulling the other behind him. Jongdae lets go of the coat just as he leaps throughout the opening, curled up on himself the best he can ; the remains of the window pane cuts angrily through his wrists, but it is nothing compared to the searing pain of his scars and of the electricity flowing wild on his veins.

The fall isn't long, as the room is only on the first floor, but he lands harshly on the pavement, head first -he's pretty sure he's bleeding. His sight goes dark for an instant, but he still registers Chanyeol crashing as ungraciously as him somewhere beside him. They are still too close to the house whose walls are now fully collapsing under the force of the earthquake, and Jongdae starts to gets up with difficulty, groaning. His head is pounding, and he stumbles as he stands up ; he feels hands settling on his waist to help him, but Chanyeol's frantic « Are you okay ? » gets drowned in astonishing sounds echoing throughout the whole city, and then Jongdae opens his eyes.

« What the hell ... » he gapes, turning to scan his surroudings.

Earth is rumbling under their feet, wind is whirling through walls with gaping holes, water is cascading down buildings and streets, people are scattered everywhere, trying to flee and protect themselves from the projectiles crashing on the pavement. The city is pure panic, and Jongdae already feels the stir rise in his stomach, more powerful than it has ever been. He hears Chanyeol gasp, and turns towards him, opening his mouth to speak, but finds himself tongue-tied. Both men are now looking past the ruins of their shelter to the nothern ramparts of the city, or rather what remains of them : the once large fortication walls are now reduced to small mounts of pebbles surrounded by a cloud of dust. Jongdae thinks he makes out a small silhouette standing amongst the debris, and it suddenly fuels Jongdae's power : his scars burst and redden so much they become almost black, small lightning bolts appear along his veins, and his electricity goes mad. Destruction looks so beautiful, right now. Jongdae start to grin, stretching his lips so wide he feels like he's enlarging his already uncannily broad mouth.

« You know what that means ? » He hears Chanyeol ask shakily.

Jongdae's itching to run and join the man by the ramparts, but he turns his gaze towards Chanyeol, who is smiling just as brightly as him.

« That means we're free. » Jongdae answers, voice raspy, almost jolting in mirth.

Chanyeol's smile doubles, and his eyes turns into crescent, which is an odd sight to behold when they were wide with fear and red with desire most of the time they spent together.

« That also means we are not alone. » Chanyeol replies, and Jongdae stops a moment to observe the boy's delighted face.

When did I became a We ?

All of the sudden, a new shake of the ground makes them starttle, and the stir inside Jongdae's stomach becomes more insistent -the first crack of thunder resonates above their head, and Jongdae knows it is time. The silhouette, at the edge of the city, has stopped, its head raised towards the darkening sky. He eagerly steps towards the ruins, like drawn to the silhouette detaching from the dust ; but a soft pull at his coat makes him stop. He turns towards Chanyeol, who is looking so sheepish, so out-of-place, so little in the middle of this chaos. The boy opens his mouth, hestitant, and Jongdae deflates a little, because he already knows what he's going to tell him.

« Jongdae ... » Chanyeol starts weakly, not daring to look at him. « I'm … I can't go with you. I'm going to go back home and try to find my family. And … and protect them. » He licks his lips then casts a shy glance to Jongdae, still standing in front of him. « They need me. I'm sorry. »

Jongdae doesn't answer, only stares at him for a while, Chanyeol squirming under his gaze. The boy looks so stupid, planted here in the ruins, his hair dishevelled by the storm sweeping off the city, with his embarassed look and fancy coat, right in the middle of an apocalypse, and Jongdae slowly starts to chuckle.

Of course. Of course Chanyeol would return to his beloved home, when Jongdae destroyed his own. Of course, Chanyeol won't not follow him, because why would he need a follower anyway ? Jongdae doesn't need anyone. He only needs his pain and the fleeting promises of dusty silhouettes. Chanyeol's too real, too tangible to be what Jongdae needs. And he was wrong : Jongdae is not generous, or maybe he is, but only in that twisted way people in love can see as generosity. He doesn't shine, he was just born with a soul too big, too hungry. When Jongdae's too primitive to act anything but selfish, and thus cannot hinder the rawness of his heart, Chanyeol is too human to be anything but fascinated by Jongdae's primal personality, but incapable of embracing it.

« Come with me. » A desesperate voice interrupts his thoughts.

Jongdae looks up, and chuckles again -but he also can notice that it is not out of joy anymore.

« Don't be silly, you know I can't. » Chanyeol opens his mouth to protest, but Jongdae shushes him. « I am dangerous, Chanyeol, and I like being so ; and youadmire me for that. Do you really think you will actually stop me, when I go thunderstorm on your neighbour or your father ? Because it will happen, Chanyeol, and you'll just stand there watching me with your stupid flaming eyes. We're both fucked up, Chanyeol, and you loving me or me relishing in your fascination, I mean … Do you really think it could have worked, even a second ? »

Jongdae isn't expecting some kind of answer, but Chanyeol's eyes give it away for him : yes. The kid really thought they would stay together. Jongdae suddenly wants to laugh because all in all, they haven't changed that much. Chanyeol shifts, defeated, in front of him, and wind hurls in his hair.

« I guess there is a reason for you to control thunder, after all. » He begins, looking above Jongdae's head. « You're like a lightning bolt, Jongdae : you come unexpected, and you shine bright you blind everyone, you leave scars and marks on your way. But then you're gone, in a second, so fleeting and already away when I thought I grabbed you. »

Chanyeol stops for a moment, then smiles sadly, a small smile, lost and so sad.

« I can't be the first man to have tried to keep thunder for himself ... » He turns his head, looking towards the ruins of the ramparts and the silhouette out there. « I won't be the last, that's for sure. »

At these words, Jongdae starts to laugh -he has no real reason to, really, all he knows is that his scars hurts like nothing before, and that once more, Chanyeol's right : in the absolute, they are not alone, but he, Jongdae, is and will continue to be, because no one will manage to catch thunder, ever.

Jongdae's hilarity lasts for a moment, Chanyeol is still looking at him, with his pitiful, golden eyes and silver hair, and Jongdae snorts all the more at how pathetic they both are. The world continues to crumble down around them, and finally, Jongdae quiets, then reaches up to pat Chanyeol's silver hair, making the hair stand from the proximity of the electricity. The boy looks about to speak again, but Jongdae shushes him with a raised finger. He knows. And he doesn't need this. All he wants is to be finally free, and he can't pin after anyone, he can't be needing anyone. He looks up at Chanyeol's whiny face, and laughs again when he notices that the boy's hand are reddening under the pressure of the fire threatening to spill. Still smiling, Jongdae slowly takes off his leather gloves and hands them to Chanyeol. The boy takes them, deferential, and Jongdae casts him a last smug smirk.

« Don't burn too much stuff, kid. » He chirps merrily, then turns his back to Chanyeol's sad, sad face, towards the fallen ramparts.

He only has to walk a few meters before thunder booms, loud and clear, accompanied with a sharp, fleeting flash. His grin boardens and he inhales slowly, the scars, the agony, finally embracing his whole body. Lightning bolts surge from his fingertips, it hurts and Jongdae wants to cry out of joy. He's finally free.

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