Chapter Text
Eerie sounds from screeching metal echoed off the walls. Water dripped to the floor somewhere in the distance. Darkness was broken only by the flashing red lights of an alarm that had long since fallen silent.
Stale air, being recirculated over and over by a life support system in desperate need of repair, made it difficult for Jeongguk to breathe as he walked down the hallway. The ground was littered with garbage and what remained of a once vibrant crew. He paused outside a ransacked room that appeared to have once been someone’s bedroom. A torn teddy bear lay abandoned at his feet.
The distress call had woken Jeongguk from a deep sleep. He’d nearly crushed Taehyung as the two leapt into the hallway from their sleeping quarters, both in turn nearly running headlong into Yoongi as the man tugged on his pants on his way out the door to the engineering department.
Namjoon, his captain for the past several years and friend for slightly longer, struggled to reactivate a blank control panel on the wall. Jeongguk hovered near his shoulder. He wasn’t expecting to have to mount any sort of defense, but the emptiness of the ship sat heavy in his chest and caused unease to grow in his limbs. His rifle was braced against his chest, ready for use regardless.
Beyond the quiet of a collapsing ship, it was the bloodstains on the ground that caused Jeongguk the most worry. There was so much of it. What had happened had been horrific.
But they hadn’t found a single body.
He had heard tales like this in the past. Ships found empty floating through the vastness of space. Some frozen in time like their occupants had just stepped out for a cup of tea. Others torn apart in the most brutal of ways. But all the crews vanished without a trace. Stories were passed down from retired veterans all the way down to entry level cadets. Images of blood and fire had haunted Jeongguk for weeks back at the Academy when a professor had told him one too many of those horror stories.
Crashes sounded from around the corner, followed quickly by Hoseok and Seokjin’s shouting. Jeongguk ran in their direction with no hesitation. He trusted Namjoon to follow.
Dashing into the kitchen, Jeongguk found his crew mates backed against the wall clutching their chests in fright as they struggled to catch their breath. Tables were turned on their sides. Remains of meals stained the ground. Only starlight from the panel of windows to his left lit the room.
There was movement in the shadows on the far end of the room.
“Did you see it?” Hoseok whispered, pointing at the shifting form.
Jeongguk took one small step forward. Then he took a larger one. The dark shape in front of him froze and Jeongguk gripped his rifle tighter.
The images of monsters and demons his mind conjured up were quickly dissipated when the shadow coalesced into a slim beautiful young man in a torn oversized shirt and leggings. Blood liberally spotted his clothing, but his face remained untouched by the red.
“Hello,” Jeongguk whispered. He was careful to not make any sudden movements. “I’m Lieutenant Jeon. These are my crew mates. We heard your distress call. We’re here to help.”
Pursed lips, tightly shut eyes, and clenched fists knocking against hipbones were Jeongguk’s only answer.
Namjoon’s hand rested lightly against his shoulder as he stepped in front of Jeongguk. “Is this your home? Can you tell us what happened?”
The man shook his head. He was biting into his bottom lip now, head tucked down and messy black hair covering his eyes. He didn’t answer any of the questions Namjoon continued to ask. Jeongguk could see the way the stranger’s body was growing more tense with each word.
“Captain, maybe we should-”
He stumbled as the ship was rocked hard by something. It reminded Jeongguk of the time back home his cousin had taken them on a joy ride in his uncle’s truck before crashing it into a water tank.
Taehyung’s voice was garbled as it came across their communicators. But the word “explosion” was clear.
“Okay everyone,” Seokjin shouted. “It’s time to go. Is there anyone else on board?”
Somehow the doctor was able to draw the silent man’s attention as he met Seokjin’s eyes and shook his head in the negative.
The away team moved quickly back through the ship to where they had docked their shuttle. The ship continued to rattle under their feet. As they ran, Jeongguk was surprised to find the stranger didn’t fight him off when he took his hand.
It wasn’t until they were safely on board their shuttle, heading back to their own ship, that Jeongguk realized the shirt hanging off their new companion’s shoulders was a match for the standard issue sleepwear hanging in his and all his crew mates’ closets.
While the vessel they’d boarded was a mystery, at least part of the crew had been theirs.
***
“So, what do you think?”
Jeongguk looked up from his notes to see Taehyung staring through the window of the office, watching as Seokjin carefully cleaned the blood from their guest’s skin. The man was quiet as the medic kept up a constant stream of one sided conversation while moving around the medical bed.
“About what?”
“About what happened over there. I’ve heard the stories. Never seen it for myself though.”
“It doesn’t happen as often as the gossip says it does,” Jeongguk offered. “I’m sure most of it is easily explained by pirates or mechanical failures.”
“But this one was weird, right?”
In the next room, the man continued to look down at where his feet were swinging slowly over the edge of the bed. Seokjin was cradling his elbows loosely as he tried to look him in the eyes.
“Yeah. This one was really weird.”
Pulling up a chair next to Jeongguk, Taehyung scrolled through the reports on his own datapad. “Ship’s records, what we were able to download before the main computer imploded, say the total passenger list of that ship was sixty-seven. I haven’t been able to match him up to any of the names yet. I can’t imagine what he must have gone through.”
“But you’re not the least bit suspicious?”
“Of what?”
“He’s the only survivor, covered in blood, and over sixty missing people? Shouldn’t he be our first suspect? He hasn’t said a word.”
“That’s called trauma, Jeongguk. I thought you of all people would understand that.”
Jeongguk suppressed the memories of terrified screams and explosions that threatened to surface. He unlatched the front of his shoulder harness, some of the anxiety fading as he took more air into his lungs. “Regardless, I think deadly spirits of lost voyagers are the least likely explanation here.”
An annoyed eye roll from Taehyung was a response he was used to receiving. “You don’t need to say it so condescendingly.”
“You’re our chief science officer. You should know better.”
“What I do know is that there’s a lot in this universe we don’t understand yet. It all comes down to energy. And no one knows for sure what happens to the energy inside us once our life functions stop.”
“Not this again…”
“I know by ‘this’ you don’t mean my life’s work.”
“Could you both shut up?” Seokjin asked, exasperation dripping from his voice as he entered his office. He shoved Jeongguk’s feet off his desk. “You two might treat this as your little not quite officer’s lounge, but this is actually meant to be a place of healing.”
Looking over the shoulder of the recently appointed chief medical officer, Jeongguk could see their visitor’s eyes shining bright blue as he watched Kai, the young nurse on duty, take and record some of his basic vitals. He reached out hesitantly towards the other man’s face. Seeing the pause, the nurse gently took his hand and guided it to touch the iridescent scales along his cheekbones. For the first time, Jeongguk saw their guest smile.
“So, who is he?” Taehyung asked. He smiled brightly and innocently. No one was falling for it.
“No clue.” With a flick of his wrist, Seokjin moved his notes from his datapad to the large screen on the office’s back wall. “His genome is similar to most eukaryotic organisms we have on record, but not a match to any species in my database. I’ve sent a copy of the information to some colleagues back on Earth for their input. He still hasn’t said a word. But based on an early review of his brain activity, I suspect he may be telepathic. He seemed to know what I needed from him without my needing to explain it. And then there are the scars.”
“You mean the ones on his wrist?” Jeongguk asked. He had noticed some wounds encircling his wrist as they had sat together on the shuttle. They appeared old, but deep.
“No. On his back.”
Taehyung leaned closer to look at the images Seokjin was pointing to on the screen, nearly tipping over in his chair. “Those don’t look superficial.”
“They’re not,” the doctor agreed. “They reach deep, like muscles were torn out.”
“Was it on purpose?” The look on Taehyung’s face was one of disgust, the blue tint of his skin growing deeper as his facial muscles tensed. “What would be the purpose of something like that?”
“I’m not sure. It doesn’t appear to be bothering him currently, so I decided to wait until he’s more settled to do further scans. But this might be helpful for identifying him.” Flipping through images, an image of a series of tattoos appeared. "Along his spine between the scars he has the phases of the Earth’s moon tattooed on his back.”
Leaping from his seat, Taehyung waved his datapad in the air. “Found him! His tattoos are listed as the identifying features in his profile. But there’s only a given name listed: Jimin.”
Jeongguk leaned over his shoulder to look at the little information included in Jimin’s official account. The history of the file only reached back a week and a half, indicating he had been picked up at the Boseog Outpost per a request from the United Universes’ headquarters. He was meant to be delivered to Earth promptly.
The notes referring to him like a thing being shipped across the galaxy left Jeongguk feeling unsettled.
“They’re talking about him like a piece of cargo,” Taehyung whispered.
“Or a slave.” Jeongguk scrunched his nose. Slavery had been outlawed throughout the members of the United Universes generations ago, but he had heard mentions of victims being trafficked on the black market. But, no matter how he disagreed with with the politicians running their star systems, he didn’t think any one of them would be dumb enough to conduct a sale on an official UU vessel.
In Jimin’s profile, there was a vital piece of information missing.
“It doesn’t have a species listed,” Jeongguk pointed out, running his finger over the blank field on the page. “But if he isn’t human, why would he have tattoos of Earth’s moon?”
“Maybe they were put there by someone who is human,” Seokjin answered. His fingers ran lightly across his chin as he studied the image. “I can’t find any medical reason for why he isn’t speaking, so there’s a chance he’ll be able to answer all these questions himself later.”
Looking back out into the sickbay, where Jimin listened to Kai explain his vitals with bright curious eyes, Jeongguk couldn’t help but feel he was missing something right under his nose.
***
The smell of iron was strong in his nose. It was dark in the closet. His mom made him promise not to open the door until she or his dad told him it was ok. But the noises outside were loud. So loud.
Explosions sounding from other parts of town were scary, but the crashes echoing through his home were worse. He could hear his parents’ voices but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Clinging to his teddy bear and clenching his eyes shut tight were all he could do.
It was when his parents’ screams faded to silence that he realized more than loud bone trembling violence, the absence of noise was the most terrifying of all.
***
Stars stretched out above him as far as he could see. When he was little, Jeongguk traveled a lot between planets. His parents were scientists who went wherever the most interesting work was taking place. The first thing they would do after moving into a new home would be to sit outside and show Jeongguk new constellations in the night sky.
There was Manu, the Malihini goddess of flight who left a twinkling trail of stars in her wake as she left for her grand adventures. There was Medve, the god of war who kept watch in the skies above Idegenus. And there was Golae, the sea god worshipped by the Oegyein who guided wayward sailors.
But his favorite was Virgo, the constellation of his birth. Some of his earliest memories were of sitting in his grandparents’ backyard in Busan as his father shared the many mythologies associated with Virgo. At least, the ones that could be shared with a young child.
“Could he be Estron like the captain?” Hoseok asked. The ambassador ran a hand through the stars, the simulation sifting through his fingers. “The DNA of the inhabitants of their subcontinents has variations we haven’t fully tracked. His dark hair wouldn’t be common there, but not completely unheard of.”
“All Estron have a larger hypothalamus than most species. Jimin doesn’t,” Bahiyyih answered. The astrophysicist gave Jeongguk’s knee a nudge out of her way as she passed by him to another control panel. “What about Khariin?”
“They all have tentacles protruding from their back.”
“Didn’t the doctor say there was scarring on his back? What if someone removed them?”
“Khariin have gills along their ribcage. Jimin doesn’t,” Jeongguk interjected.
“I’m out of ideas then.” Hoseok slid down to the floor. His legs stretched out from between work stations as he took a sip from his smoothie. “The Alleo are known for similar tattoos along their spines, but they’re of one of their suns. Plus they’re usually over eight feet tall.”
A recent addition to their crew, Hoseok had been insistent on making the most of his rotation as ambassador through the region of space they patrolled on the Starship Jamais Vu. He volunteered for all the away missions in case an opportunity for diplomacy arose. He was always willing to lend his expertise and familiarity with the species that made up the United Universes for any questions the crew had. Right now he had some down time while they traveled to pick up the ambassador from Tulnukas, which meant he could often be found bothering whichever astrophysicist was on duty in the Star Lab.
“Is it possible he’s from some species we haven’t previously come in contact with? A lot of the data Taehyung downloaded was corrupted, so maybe we lost their First Contact report,” Bahiyyih offered. The stars above them shifted as she input new calculations, the shining lights flickering rainbows off her scales.
“If there was a First Contact report, it would have been sent back to headquarters immediately.” Jeongguk jumped off the top of the workstation he had been sitting on. He craned his neck to look up at Bahiyyih who was watching him cautiously from her raised work platform. “We’d have a record of it in our own database. And don’t worry, I locked the panel before I put my butt on it.”
Bahiyyih gave his ear a quick flick.
“That’s not necessarily true.” Hoseok’s voice was hesitant. “It could be hidden behind a security clearance higher than any held by someone on this ship.”
“Even the captain?”
“There are a couple levels above Namjoon. It would be ‘need to know’ for the admirals and higher at headquarters.”
“What would warrant something like that?”
“If they had come across him in the course of a mission already classified as ‘top secret,’ then the reports concerning him would be marked that way until they underwent further evaluation. Or if he was found someplace not officially acknowledged by the UU, like a military installation. But, with the orders to bring him back to Earth, it’s possible they have plans for him they don’t want anyone to know about yet.”
“Plans that could have lead to the disappearance of sixty-seven people?” Bahiyyih asked.
Hoseok shrugged. “Unfortunately, I’ve seen worse. There was a leak a few years back about a buried First Contact incident because the species was still primitive but carried a virus deadly to most species in the outer systems. Headquarters claimed they were conducting research to develop a vaccine, but the leaked records seem to indicate they were experimenting with biological warfare.”
“Oh yeah. That lead to the conference in Geneva last year to update the Intergalactic Laws on Warfare.” Jeongguk remembered the news coverage. Taehyung had assisted one of the scientists on the expert panel. “You don’t think we have something to worry about, do you?”
Shaking his head, Hoseok reached up for one of the workstations to pull himself back up to his feet. “If he were carrying something deadly, Jinnie would have found it. And that vessel was traveling out of communications range. We’re staying well within charted space and headquarters already confirmed we could wait until after the meeting with the Tulnukasian delegation to bring him to Earth. If he were a threat, someone higher up would have overridden our mission to get him off ship as quickly as possible.”
“Kai said even though he wasn’t talking, he seemed fully present. Maybe we should try getting him to talk before we keep spinning our wheels going nowhere,” Bahiyyih proposed. Her eyes were focused on the calculations scrolling down her datapad, looking just like her nurse brother as she squinted at the numbers. Jeongguk knew a polite dismissal when he heard it.
As Jeongguk waited for Hoseok at the entrance of the Star Lab, the galaxies above him rearranged once more. His eyes were immediately drawn to familiar constellations from Cheongug. It was a sparsely populated planet which had once been proposed for membership in the United Universes. No one but black market businessmen and those seeking a life outside of intergalactic law lived there now.
But Jeongguk still remembered his parents showing him the arc of wings on a constellation to the north the night before his life fell apart.
***
Jeongguk stood by the door cautiously. Other members of the security team were waiting outside in the hallway, but he was alone with Jimin as the other wandered around the guest quarters that would be his for the duration of his stay aboard the ship. His steps were unsteady as he moved. But, even at his slow pace, it did not take him long to move from one corner of the room to the other. They were small, having previously belonged to Jihyo before her promotion to Chief Engineer a few months prior.
The shelves were barren and the only items with any personality in the room were the crystals Kai had shoved into Jeongguk’s hands as he’d left the sickbay. He’d only quietly said they were for luck when Seokjin had given them a skeptical look. When they’d entered the quarters, Jimin had taken them with a small bow and placed them under the window looking out to the stars above the bed.
Awkward silence continued, making Jeongguk’s skin itch as fuzzy white noise filled his thoughts. He hated the quiet. When he was alone in his own quarters, he rarely didn’t have his speakers running with music or a movie of some sort. It used to drive Taehyung crazy when they roomed together. Even when he curled up with a blanket over his head to rest, he found comfort in the sounds of his crew mates beyond his four walls.
“Over here is the closet, and behind this door is the bathroom,” Jeongguk explained. Jimin had already found both of them, but Jeongguk couldn’t help but ramble. The soft patient smile he received in return normally might have eased his nerves, but all it did was remind him of all the words their guest wasn’t saying. “The bottom knob in the shower needs to be turned to the left for water and turned to the right for sonic. The blue button at the sink does the same thing. Jin will be by later with a kit of essentials for you.”
He startled when small hands grasped his. He watched as Jimin’s brown eyes shifted to a pale lavender briefly as he firmly met Jeongguk’s gaze.
That was something he’d only seen once before.
Pulling away, Jeongguk turned to the small communications tablet that sat on the desk in the corner of the room. With the press of a few buttons, he opened the shortcuts page that currently only held Seokjin’s contact details. He entered his own before he could second guess himself.
“If you need anything, you can use this to text me. If it’s an emergency, give me a call. You don’t have to say anything. Just let it ring four times. That can be our signal that it’s urgent.”
Jimin nodded. His face was serious as he sat at the end of the bed. He was running his hands over the standard issue sheets, frowning as one of his nails caught on a thread. The galaxies outside drew his attention and he turned away from Jeongguk to watch as another ship in the distance crossed their view.
“I’m sorry, but since you don’t have clearance, you’ll need to stay here. Jin’s sorting out the details. He should explain it all once he’s here. Later. Like I said before.”
Another nod. Still not turning away from the window.
Jeongguk told himself he wasn’t escaping when he dashed out the door with a quiet goodbye.
***
Burning in his triceps had Jeongguk biting deeply into his lower lip. But he refused to take a break or even pause his kickbacks while Changbin was on his left still not breaking a sweat with his lat pulldowns and Chris was on his other side moving fluidly through his squats with the weight bar balanced over his shoulders.
Behind him, Taehyung wobbled on the exercise ball with a cup of dried sweet potato strips.
“Is your face supposed to be that red?” Taehyung asked.
“Shut. Up.”
His relief when Changbin stopped was short-lived as he watched the other security officer adjust the machine to add more weight.
“You know you started, like, twenty minutes earlier. There’s not even anything to keep up with,” Taehyung whispered. “Can’t you just be a normal person and enjoy the show?”
“I thought you were focused on Namjoon now?”
Taehyung blew a raspberry as he leant back. “Nothing happening there until he remembers we were actually all friends before he got in that Captain’s chair. I swear he acts like he was born our superior officer.”
Finally taking a seat, Jeongguk gratefully accepted the water bottle Taehyung offered him. “He’s not that bad.”
“He scolded Jin the other day for not using rank when speaking to him.”
“There is a chain of command to respect-”
“In private. Over breakfast. In Jin’s quarters.”
“Oh. That’s awkward.”
“Yeah.”
“What was he doing having breakfast in Jin’s quarters?”
Taehyung shrugged like the thought didn’t bother him. “They’re friends.”
“But-”
“Jeongguk?”
Looking up, he met Changbin’s eyes beneath his furrowed brow as he wiped sweat from his forehead with a small white towel. It was an appreciated reminder that he was a living breathing person and not a android designed solely to make Jeongguk feel inferior in the gym. The deep black tattoos that all Idegen received upon reaching adulthood curved around his left eye, but in his workout tank Jeongguk could see how they actually trailed down his neck and over his shoulder to cover his bicep in an intricate framework that looked almost like a map. The dark lines shifted with each flex of the muscles beneath them.
“Yes?”
“I read your report on the evacuee. It said he has moon-like markings on his back?”
“Not ‘like,’” Jeongguk corrected. “Tattoos that are exact depictions of the phases of Earth’s moon.”
“Are you sure they’re tattoos and not brands?”
“What do you mean?”
There was a light clink of metal as Chris set his weights back on the rack. He and Changbin shared a loaded look before he left the room without a word.
“What’s up with him?” Taehyung grumbled. “You’d think he’d be in a better mood now that he’s about to be getting laid on the regular again.”
While he and Chris hadn’t been close during their Academy days, they had been on a similar enough education path that they’d more often than not end up in the same classes and study groups. And ending up trapped in the same elevator in the middle of a firefight tended to be a good bonding exercise. They were friendly enough that when Chris had transferred aboard the Jamais Vu the year prior as the new Chief of Security, Jeongguk was excited for the opportunity to get to know him better.
There had been a brief but awkward period of adjustment within the security team. Chris had spent the last several years working at military outposts and on warships. It was a different way of life than on an exploratory vessel like theirs. Accepting equal standing with the science team outside of battle situations hadn’t happened immediately.
But Chris had the natural ability to be both a leader and a team player. His weekly meetings with Taehyung after the other had been promoted to Chief Science Officer went a long way to easing the tensions between the two departments.
After having been through several Chiefs of Security in his time on board, with few lasting longer than a few months, Jeongguk was pleased to see it seemed Chris saw a future for himself with them. He’d spent the prior weekend helping Chris pack up his belongings in anticipation of the move to the larger quarters he’d be sharing with his partner Felix. The assignment to escort the Tulnukasian delegation to headquarters worked perfectly as an opportunity to pick up Earth residents like Felix who were moving on board.
It was going to be nice having more civilians on the ship. They were always a morale boost.
“I think the report stirred up challenging memories for him,” Changbin said softly. He glanced where a group of ensigns were sparring on the far side of the room. “You know, because of Felix.”
“What do you mean?” Jeongguk asked. “Just because he was a refugee? I can’t imagine they were the same circ*mstances.”
“There were enough similarities in the report. But it’s not my place to say.”
Jeongguk and Taehyung shared a look of their own.
“Look,” Changbin pulled his datapad out from his small duffle bag and opened Jeongguk’s report. “These moon markings are similar to the brands of a Koloni organized crime syndicate. We’ve always suspected there was some connection between them and Felix, but haven’t been able to find any solid proof.”
“You can’t just ask him?” Taehyung questioned.
“He can’t remember anything before he ended up at that refugee station. But it’s more than that.”
“His eyes.” Jeongguk pointed down at his own notes. “Jimin’s eyes change colors like Felix’s.”
The first time he'd had seen Felix’s eyes shift from soft brown to a bright clear blue when Jeongguk had bumped into him rounding a corner in Chris’ Earth apartment had been a surprise. Even though it fascinated him every time he saw a new color flash in Felix’s eyes, he’d grown accustomed to it and accepted it as another quirk of the mystery they would never solve about Felix.
But that had changed now.
“Anything else you’ll need to ask Chris. Just understand that Felix was going through a lot when they first met, so be patient if Chris seems a little out of sorts for a bit.” Changbin gave a nod and small wave before bundling his things together in his bag and making his exit.
There were only a few beats of silence before Taehyung spoke.
“So, are you going to stick your nose in Chris’ business on a topic we all know he’s sensitive about? Or do you like not working the graveyard shift?”
Jeongguk sighed. For now he’d just have to hope he got a peek at Chris’ notes on his report before it was sent up the chain. Until then, his best resource to learning more about Jimin was the man himself.
***
Smoke hurt his lungs. It reminded him of the time his dad insisted he knew how to work the barbecue in their new backyard, but burnt their dinner instead.
His parents hadn’t come to let him out of the closet like they had promised. He’d sat there quietly for hours. He was a good boy. He always wanted to make his parents proud.
Eventually Eric, his father’s colleague who baked the chocolate chip cookies Jeongguk loved, came to get him. He’d covered Jeongguk’s eyes as he carried him out of the house.
As they walked down the street, Jeongguk pretended not to know Eric was crying. He was worried the reason was in the house they were leaving behind.
***
“And how did that make you feel?”
“Seriously?”
Jeongguk couldn’t suppress the sarcasm that seeped its way into his voice. But the mandated sessions with Beomgyu, the onboard psychiatrist, were not what he wanted to spend his time doing. The requirement had been instituted by Chris once he’d taken over the security team. He said he had seen far too many soldiers burn out early in their careers after being unable to process the trauma they were confronted with on a regular basis.
While he understood the notion in the theory, Jeongguk didn’t need it. Jeongguk was fine.
“You know, we might actually get somewhere one day if you didn’t fight me every step of the way.” Jeongguk knew he had probably pushed too far judging by the way Beomgyu snapped back at him. The doctor had been nothing but patient within the safe space of his office no matter how non responsive Jeongguk could be.
For once, Jeongguk thought he could be a little honest.
“I don’t know where we’re supposed to be going.”
“Are you being metaphorical or practical?”
“Both? I know Chris thinks we need this so none of us have some sort of violent breakdown. But nothing I see on the job is worse than what I saw as a kid or at the Academy. Doesn’t that mean I already know how to process it?”
Sympathy returned to Beomgyu’s eyes. “Just because you’re still standing doesn’t mean you’ve dealt with it. This is the first time I’ve ever heard you bring up either of the incidents, inside and outside of this room.”
On his first week on the Jamais Vu, Jeongguk had been part of an away team that answered a distress call from a colony on the edge of the United Universes’ territory. It had taken only a few hours to respond. But when they arrived they had been confronted by pure carnage. Whoever had attacked had left no witnesses and no survivors.
One of the other ensigns on his team had vomited at the sight. Jeongguk had completed his scans without delay and had begun to prep their equipment for burials before they’d even stood back up. It had taken multiple reassurances from Jeongguk to convince his superior officer that he could take on multiple shifts planetside as some of his crew mates begged to return to the ship.
“I get the job done.”
“I know you do,” Beomgyu agreed, writing something down on his old fashioned notepad. “But is that because you’re processing it like you say, or are you just suppressing it to deal with it never?”
“Would it be so bad if I was?”
“Everyone needs to do what works for them. But what if there comes a day where something is too big to bury? Or if the combined weight of all the past trauma becomes too much to bear? Do you have the tools you need to make it through that?”
If he let himself, he could almost taste the smoke on his tongue again. He’d never seen his parents’ bodies. There hadn’t been a burial ceremony. He’d been evacuated that same day and sent to live with his grandparents back in Busan. Even his grandfather still talked about how Jeongguk hadn’t cried once over what had happened. The only thing that had changed was how long he would sit out on the grass in the backyard at night, staring at the stars.
Maybe he rarely had any nightmares about it because he couldn’t remember enough. His scariest dreams were centered around ridiculous ghost stories or the slasher flicks Yoongi sometimes picked for movie night.
On the rare nights dreams pulled from his own psyche did keep him up, it was centered around memories of Chris applying pressure to the gaping wound in his right arm as the lights in the science building’s main elevator flickered above them. But Chris had gotten the broken door open. The two of them had blasted their way out of the building and found some of the older security trainees nearby. They had made it out when so many others hadn’t with only a few extra scars to show for it.
He tended not to worry over things that almost happened or could have happened.
“I guess that’s why I have to keep meeting with you,” Jeongguk conceded.
Beomgyu laughed softly, his mouth forming a delicate smirk. “I guess so. It might help even more if you opened up a little. We don’t need to be cliché and talk about your childhood if you don’t want to. How about we start with your last away mission?”
“You mean the ghost ship out of Boseog?”
“That would be the one.”
It probably would have made more sense to talk about the sinister and pervasive emptiness that had filled the ship. How he’d never seen anything like it. How his heart had raced when he’d heard his friends screaming. How unsettling it had been to see fear flash across Namjoon’s face. But the words that tumbled from his lips didn’t have anything to do with any of those things.
“That’s where we found Jimin."
Beomgyu nodded. “My newest patient.”
“You’ve been talking to him?” Jeongguk didn’t know why he was surprised. Once Seokjin had determined there was nothing physical preventing Jimin from speaking, the next logical step would be to refer him to Beomgyu. “Has he said anything?”
“I know you’re not asking me to break doctor-patient confidentiality. That’s a mistake a first year security officer wouldn’t make, much less someone as experienced as you are.”
“Sorry. I was just curious.” He barely managed not to sink back in his chair with a sulk.
“And why are you so curious about him?”
“Why?”
“You know how this goes Jeongguk. You bring up a topic of conversation, I ask you about your feelings, and then we wrestle to get you to speak words for the rest of the session. Let’s not make this any harder than it needs to be.”
“He’s-” Jeongguk paused, thinking carefully. “-a mystery.”
“You’ve had mysteries before. I’ve seen you investigate them professionally and approach them critically. What makes Jimin different?”
“He’s more than just a mystery. He’s a person. And he’s lost. He needs our help. Isn’t that what we’re here for?”
“Yes,” Beomgyu agreed. He flipped back a page in his notebook briefly. “But he also hasn’t been assigned to you. Once you turned in your report he became Lieutenant Commander Bahng’s responsibility. Do you not trust him to handle his assignments?”
“Of course not. He’s great at his job.”
“But?”
“But he’s also obviously compromised on the topic.”
“Why would you say that?”
Jeongguk sighed. He knew Beomgyu would never say anything, but he was still hesitant to say anything critical of his commanding officer. Especially when he was a friend.
It wasn’t that he blamed Chris. If he found himself suddenly confronted with an assignment that appeared connected to what had happened to his family, he would probably be out of sorts too. But Jimin needed help. And Jeongguk didn’t have a good feeling about what was waiting for him once they reached Earth.
He didn’t know what to do.
“It’s just that Jimin reminds him of Felix. I’m worried that’s a distraction for him.”
“Have you talked to him about it?”
“No.”
“Then how can you know it’s a distraction and not something giving him more focus?”
Another problem was he actually didn’t know the answer to Beomgyu’s question. Because asking Chris would mean admitting out loud how important this was to Jeongguk. And a small silent part of Jeongguk knew that it went beyond the simple need to solve a puzzle.
But no matter how kindly or gently Beomgyu pushed, that was something that Jeongguk wouldn’t be talking about any time soon.
***
Large dark multifaceted eyes set in a long narrow face stared out from the screen at the head of the table behind Chris’ head. Jeongguk had never met a Tulnukasian before, but Taehyung had said their language was too complicated for even the ship’s built in translators to understand at times. This lead to the computers pushing through extra vowels and clicking sounds at times. It normally wouldn’t be a problem. But inaccurate translations during tense diplomatic negotiations could be a complication at best and the onset of a universal incident at worst.
This was why it was so important to have an ambassador like Hoseok onboard. He could brush off comments that sounded like insults with ease, pivoting conversations back on track.
Lucky for Jeongguk, his only job was to make sure no one got hurt or snuck into restricted areas.
“How constrained are we in our threat response parameters? If a member of the delegation were to attack the captain for instance, would we be entitled to stun?” Yeji asked. The ensign stood out with her unique simple pink Idegen tattoos beneath her eyes. As the newest member of the team, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for her to ask multiple follow up questions during security briefings as she familiarized herself with the processes unique to the Jamais Vu.
She was a little quick on the draw, so it was a comfort to Jeongguk knowing she at least thought to check in on the diplomacy angle of her assignment.
“And why would a member of a peaceful ally delegation attack the captain?” Chris asked.
“You never know. Stranger things have happened. They could be infected with a mind virus that’s turned them into a sleeper agent.”
Chungha sighed from her seat to Chris’ right. Her bright purple hair was tied back in a tight bun.
There had been a time Jeongguk thought the Lieutenant Commander would take over their department before Chris had come on board. But the Estron had her eyes on command positions higher than the ones available aboard a starship. She seemed content as Chris’ second in command while she continued to take the virtual course load required for a potential future admiralty. But that also meant she had the time to make sure the entire team pushed themselves through both the necessary and optional trainings available to them.
His back was still sore from their last training mission where he’d spent the better part of an afternoon hiking up a mountain carrying Taehyung on his back.
“How about we agree to no shooting unless it is definitively a life or death situation?” Chungha proposed. She was already turning back to review the edits of the preparatory security report on her pad as Yeji nodded in agreement.
Next to him, Changbin was quickly highlighting the notes in the report concerning Tulnukasian anatomy. Jeongguk’s own report was filled with his notes about their cultural sensitivities.
On the surface, this mission was a fairly straightforward one. They were picking up the approved delegation from Tulnukas and escorting them to the summit at the United Universes’ headquarters on Earth. The meeting of all the member systems had been called to address proposed amendments to universal environmental regulations. Space debris had become a hot topic of conversation after a large mass of detritus had broken through the atmosphere on Segye to contaminate a crucial water source. It wasn’t the most crucial topic to be negotiated in recent years, even after The War had ended, but it still needed to be done.
Tulnukas had been a member planet of the United Universes’ since nearly the inception of the organization. They had never caused any problems, typically standing alongside Earth in almost every conflict. There weren’t even any negotiations needed while the delegation was aboard the ship. They only needed to get from point A to point B without offending anyone.
But Jeongguk knew that just because something seemed simple didn’t mean it was.
“This says the Tulnukasians sided with the Koloni during the Partition of Honua,” Jeongguk pointed out. “We have several Malihini officers on board. Will that be an issue?”
Chris frowned. “Not for the Tulnukasians at least. They were motivated by trading tariffs I think.”
The Partition of Honua had been the biggest crisis faced by the United Universes after Jeongguk graduated from the Academy. A planet with vast oceans covering more than eighty five percent of its surface, Honua was populated by two species: the seafaring Malihini and the more industrial Koloni. They had lived in peace for centuries. But as free land became rarer and more valuable, the Koloni began to encroach on the crucial trading ports owned by the Malihini.
It all came to a head when the Koloni unilaterally lay claim to the entirety of land on the planet with the excuse of leaving the oceans, which made up a larger percentage of the planet, for the Malihini. Despite their skills on the water, the Malihini did not have the infrastructure to support life without their port cities.
His grandfather had attended some of the protests in Busan. While Jeongguk hadn’t been witness to any of the negotiations that had taken place, the Jamais Vu had been tasked with the transport of refugees. Their captain at the time had been a harsh man who felt little sympathy. It had fallen upon the lower level crew to comfort the Malihini on board who had been forced from their homes with little more than the clothes on their backs due to the greed of their neighbors and the silence of those who had sworn to protect them.
He wasn’t up to date on the latest developments on the planet, but he did know the Malihini had regained only one of their cities. Kai and Bahiyyih would visit their parents there once a year and always returned subdued.
“Have we talked to our own officers about it?”
“There was a meeting,” Chris confirmed. “I’m not going to tell them how to feel, but they are aware of the situation. They have no desire to cause any sort of incident. But I think we should give them a heads up should the Tulnukasian delegation spend an extended periods of time in any of the public spaces. Let them make their own decisions.”
Yeji nodded along with a smirk. “And if they did pick a fight with any of our officers, we could just stun them.”
Rolling her eyes with another sigh, Chungha dropped her head down towards the table. “Diplomatic. Mission. How many times do I need to say it?”
“Only one more time, Lieutenant Commander.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her, don’t worry,” Changbin assured, earning himself a flick to his bicep from one of Yeji’s pointed nails.
“I know I can trust you all to get the job done,” Chris said as he rose to his feet. The team assembled around the table sobered, standing with him. “I would appreciate it if we made it back to Earth with a clean record. If only because we’ll be arriving at the same time as the Halazia and I want to be able to brag about you all when I run into Hongjoong.”
Jeongguk tried to ignore the eyes that felt like they were following him as he left the room.
***
Dim light of an artificial nighttime and the quiet murmurs of his crew mates making their way through the hallways did nothing to distract Jeongguk’s focus upon the soju he swirled in front of him. At least, that’s what he wanted it to look like.
A few tables away, Jimin sat with Kai as the nurse offered him each of the foods sitting on his plate. The scales that marked his cheekbones and the sides of his neck briefly lit up with a bright green when Jimin smiled around a strawberry.
Seokjin had successfully argued past the security team’s advice to keep Jimin confined to his guest quarters until he received some sort of higher level clearance, insisting the confinement would only be detrimental to the mental well-being of his patient who was already suffering from significant trauma. Eventually Namjoon had given in to his chief medical officer’s badgering and agreed to let Jimin traverse the ship as long as he remained under supervision.
Jeongguk tried not to take it personally that Kai had been selected over his request to be Jimin’s primary companion.
“Your irritability is giving me a migraine,” Taehyung complained as he set his bowl of yogurt down on the table across from Jeongguk. “Nothing says you can’t join them.”
Watching Jimin’s joy as Beomgyu sat next to him and offered him a bubbly drink, Jeongguk turned back to his glass.
“I don’t want to get in the way.”
Taehyung rolled his eyes. “You’re an idiot. I love you. But you’re an idiot.”
Jeongguk shrugged. It wasn’t anything Taehyung hadn’t told him before.
A hand rested softly atop Jeongguk’s knuckles. When he looked up, Taehyung was ducked down trying to meet his eyes.
“Just because he’s comfortable with Kai doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you.”
“It’s dumb.”
“What is?”
“That I feel like I was dumped or something.”
With a sigh, Taehyung scooted his chair over to sit next to Jeongguk. “He’s been through a lot. Jin is still trying to assess all the damage that’s been done to him. He seems to feel comfortable around Kai who, unlike you, is a medical professional prepared to take care of him should something unexpected happen. He’s the logical choice.”
His head knew all this. If he were detached from the situation, he would have made the same decision. But there was something telling him it was important to protect Jimin. That he carried a responsibility for the other.
He looked up at Yeonjun’s cheer from behind the bar, seeing him waving over Changbin and Jisung, one of the younger members of the engineering department, with bright blue smoking beverages in each hand. The three ducked their heads together as Jisung took a cautious sip, his eyes immediately widening as he coughed. Changbin’s accompanying laugh was nearly a bellow as it bounced around the room.
“He is the logical choice. I don’t actually disagree with Jin and Chris’ decision. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still make me feel some kind of way.”
“Can we maybe stop dancing around why you feel bad and just put it out there?” Taehyung asked.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that you-”
Both Jeongguk and Taehyung startled at the gasp Jimin let out. It was quiet, but it was the first noise he’d made beyond heavy breathing since they’d found him. They followed his gaze over to where Chris had entered the mess hall.
Before anyone could react, Jimin was on his feet and racing across the room. He stumbled slightly, his balance escaping him momentarily. Chris remained calm and still as his wrists were grabbed. A quick shake of his head had Changbin freezing where he’d begun to move towards Jimin’s back. His arms were moved about as Jimin carefully inspected the other man. They made an odd pair, Jimin in the structured all black jumpsuit Seokjin had dressed him in and Chris in the shorts and muscle tee combo he typically wore to the gym.
“Have they met before?” Jisung asked as he slid into the open seat at their table.
“I don’t think so,” Taehyung whispered back. “I feel like I would have heard if something like this had happened.”
Jisung looked thoughtful. His eyes narrowed as he watched the interaction unfold. “Has he always had that…glow?”
There wasn’t any light emanating from Jimin that Jeongguk could see. But he watched as Taehyung leant forward at Jisung’s observation. The two Oegyein could see wavelengths that Jeongguk’s simple human eyes couldn’t. It made them valuable in the science and engineering departments as they could evaluate energy fields with a quick glance and no need for sensor equipment.
“Jimin’s always had it. I’d never noticed it on Chris before. But his is…fainter?”
“Yeah,” Jisung agreed. “Cause it’s not his. It’s from Felix. It’ll probably get brighter again once Lixie comes aboard, but it’s faint now because they haven’t been together in a while.”
Jeongguk turned to meet Taehyung’s eyes. “One thing could be a coincidence. It’s more than that now.”
As he traced the veins along the back of Chris’ hand, Jimin’s eyes shone with a bright green. His mouth was stretched in a wide smile. He continued to hold tightly to Chris’ arm as he was guided back to Kai’s waiting open arms.
All it took was a glance from Chris and Jisung was standing, joining Changbin where he stood behind Beomgyu.
“Did you ever get any notes back on your report?” Taehyung asked. His voice was low as he halfheartedly poked at his yogurt.
“No. I just got the notification it was approved and passed up the chain.”
“So to find out anything else, you’re going to need to grow a pair and ask Chris directly.”
He cringed as he remembered when they’d crossed paths in the gym. “Or I could take the easy way, keep poking around on my own and ask Felix when we get to Earth.”
Taehyung barked out a laugh. “I’ve known Felix just as long as you. What makes you think that would be the easy path?”
“I mean, if I piss him off he can’t fire me?”
“But he can have Chris fire you.”
“Good point.”
“I do have them sometimes.” Taehyung smirked. “Seriously, I’ll support you in whatever you decide to do. But remember there are real people who have suffered involved. They aren’t chess pieces on a board while you’re trying to win some sort of game.”
The accusation made Jeongguk’s chest feel tight. “I would never-”
“I know you wouldn’t do it on purpose. I’m only asking you not to get so distracted that you forget.”
Laughter grew in the mess hall. Looking over, Jeongguk saw Jimin staring wide eyed at a shimmering gold drink Yeonjun was carefully placing in front of him. His smile only grew as he looked over the glass to meet Jeongguk’s gaze.
Pain eased from beneath his sternum and it felt like his heart could beat again.
***
He had his own room on board the starship. It would only be his a short while until they reached Earth. Eric promised his grandparents would be waiting there for him when he arrived.
But he was lonely. It had never been quiet on Cheongug. There had always been other kids running around, playing some game Jeongguk could join. At night his parents were always there to tell him about their days and show him the stars.
Eyes tightly closed, little hands clenched in fists, Jeongguk tucked himself as tightly into the corner of his room as he could. Sparkles danced beneath his closed eyelids.
If he focused hard enough, he could feel his mother’s gentle touch on his brow and see the soft light of the paper lantern his father had made him. The memories sent him drifting off to sleep.
***
Engineering had always fascinated him. He hadn’t held the interest in science that would have been needed to pursue a career, but he always enjoyed visiting the engineering department with its constant activity and humming machinery.
He couldn’t explain how the ship’s engine worked if his life depended on it. But he was happy to sit with his gimbap and watch as Yoongi ran his hourly systems checks.
On the walkway above, Jeongguk could hear Jisung bickering with Jihyo in his ongoing attempts to convince her to let him upgrade the crawlspaces that criss crossed throughout the ship. It would be a large undertaking. Bigger than Jihyo was open to with an upgrade to the security systems less than a month away. But Jisung was passionate about it and would bring it up every time he had a chance with the Chief Engineer.
He might get his way eventually through sheer determination.
“I don’t know how Minho puts up with him,” Yoongi muttered. “I’m exhausted and he’s not even talking to me.”
“He runs the daycare. He probably finds conversation with Jisung relaxing.” Jeongguk smiled at the unimpressed look Yoongi gave him. “Minho’s face lights up just being around him. You can’t always explain love.”
Yoongi snorted. He pulled himself out from beneath the control panel with a grunt, dark grease partially obscuring his dark facial tattoos that spread across his cheekbones like waves of static. “Well, he’s good at his job at least.”
“Why Yoongi!” Jisung shouted, his head peeking out around the corner. “I do believe that is the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me.”
“You’re forgetting at Christmas last year when he said your face wasn’t as ugly as your sweater,” Jeongguk teased.
“At this rate, I’m going to start thinking you’re trying to give Minho some competition.”
Snapping a loose rag towards his hip, Yoongi sent Jisung scampering off down the hall with a cackle.
It hadn’t been until he joined the Jamais Vu that Jeongguk had met Yoongi. Both he and Namjoon had graduated from the Academy and been posted off world by the time Jeongguk had enrolled. But Yoongi had been assigned to show him around that first day. Ever since, Jeongguk knew he could turn to the other for anything with no judgement.
“Now what’s this Taehyung’s been saying about you obsessing over the new kid?”
Maybe just a little judgement.
“I’m not obsessed.”
“Preoccupied. Bedeviled. Engrossed. Your thoughts monopolized by his existence.”
“I’m just trying to help, that’s all.”
Yoongi reached over, snagging a sheet of dried seaweed from Jeongguk’s lunch box. “Help. Sure. It isn’t about your massive crush on him.”
At that, Jeongguk froze.
“Oh,” he said.
“Oh? Are you telling me you didn’t realize that til just now?”
Throughout the entire process of finding Jimin, bringing him on board, and trying to find where he had come from, Jeongguk had been pushing himself through mental gymnastics trying to figure out the instinctual connection he felt with the other man. He had considered the possibility of sharing trauma or some sort of professional ambition. He briefly mulled over some spiritual connection that couldn’t be practically measured.
But maybe it was that simple.
There hadn’t been a lot of time for romantic endeavors between his schoolwork at the Academy, the fall out from the Insurrection, his placement on the Jamais Vu, and then his day to day work on the security team. He’d had his share of brief hookups and that one disastrous week where he’d stumbled through an entanglement with Taehyung they both agreed to never mention again. Not exactly conducive to finding a soulmate or lifelong partner.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested. His parents had been madly in love and he always thought that was in his future. As much as his childhood therapists had thought the loss would turn his heart to stone, he’d never felt as though he’d shut himself off from the possibility of falling in love. It just wasn’t something that had happened for him yet.
He hadn’t even recognized the signs of his crush. It wasn’t love, not even close, but when Jimin was nearby his heart would flutter a little and his palms would get slightly sweaty. Like when he’d been trying to work up the nerve to ask his lab partner to the homecoming dance his first year at the Academy.
A hand clapped onto his shoulder. “It’s fine, you know. As long as it doesn’t get in the way of your work, you’re allowed to feel things. We’re not robots.”
“Yeah,” Jeongguk agreed. “I just hadn’t realized. It’s been a while.”
“The only thing I’ll say is it isn’t the right time to jump into anything. He’s been through a lot and you don’t actually know him very well yet. But you can like him, care about him, and try to help him. You don’t have to push any of that down.” Yoongi gave his shoulder another squeeze before pushing himself up to a squat. “And don’t do anything that will force someone to write you up.”
Jeongguk smirked. “When have you known me to ever get into any trouble?”
“That. That look right there where you think we’ll let you get away with anything. That’s the look that keeps me up at night.”
Somewhere in another section of engineering, Jeongguk could hear Jisung cheering and Jihyo speaking in a tone he associated with her good natured scolding, which was usually directed in Jisung’s direction. He must have finally gotten her on board with his project proposal.
“If you’re going to stick around, at least help me switch out the wires in this secondary panel. They burnt out during that maneuver last month at Xiera.”
“Sure. Do you need me to cut off the power?”
“Already done. I just need you to-”
“Jeongguk!”
He startled as Jihyo appeared suddenly at his left shoulder. Her hair was falling out of its loose ponytail, her dark green jumpsuit dirty from work.
“Yes?”
A stack of datapads were dumped into his hands. “I need Chris to approve the plans for the security system upgrades. Tell him avoiding me won’t get me to cut down on the proposal. This is what needs to to happen, so he just needs to accept it and sign off.”
She left the room before he could say another word.
Jeongguk carefully packed the datapads into his bag. “You’ve got me for another twenty minutes. What do you need me to do that can’t start a fire?”
With a grin, Yoongi handed over a long fork shaped tool that was sparking at one end.
“Just poke this where I tell you when I tell you and we’ll be fine.”
***
Ambassador Suursaadik was, in a word, a pretentious asshole.
A couple words, but Jeongguk could live with it.
Greeting ambassadors when they first arrived was usually a simple affair. They would arrive via shuttle with Namjoon waiting for them. Pleasantries would be exchanged. Then they would be escorted to their guest quarters to rest ahead of any official events. It was casual. Subdued. No one wanted to jump right into official duties after being cramped in uncomfortable seats for an extended period of time.
But that wasn’t good enough for the Tulnukasian delegation. They required the speakers in the shuttle bay to be playing their official anthem upon their arrival. A blue carpet of some velvet like material had to be rolled out for them to walk upon from their shuttle into the hallway. And no one below the rank of Lieutenant Commander was allowed to make eye contact with the ambassador.
It made it a little difficult for Jeongguk to process their diplomatic paperwork, but he wasn’t going to lose any sleep that night over not being able to look the man in his dumb face.
Ji-eun gave his hair a light ruffle. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m the First Officer and I’m not allowed to speak to him unescorted by a male colleague. Wouldn’t want to give any impression of impropriety.”
At his other side, Hwasa gave an indelicate snort. “Like you’d ever give him the time of day. He always looks at everyone like he just ate a lemon. Did you see his face when he found out I wasn’t only a Lieutenant Commander, and thus allowed the honor to look at him, but also the ship’s lead pilot? I thought his eyes were going to fall out of his head at the thought of a woman holding that position!”
“And what about when Hoseok introduced himself?” Taehyung added. “He stared at him said, ‘that’s it?’ What was he expecting? A twenty member party?”
“His servants outnumber the security team we assigned to them.” Jeongguk bit into the apple Hwasa tossed him. “Chris says they weren’t even approved. He’s going to have to pull in more people from other shifts to keep an eye on them all. We already caught a few trying to wander into restricted areas.”
From where they sat in the back of the auditorium, waiting for Namjoon to step up to the lectern, Jeongguk could see the Tulnukasian delegation spread out amongst the seats in the front. He wasn’t sure how many were diplomats there to participate in the summit on Earth as opposed to simply wait on Ambassador Suursaadik. There didn’t seem to be much of a difference between the two roles when it came to job titles.
Changbin and Yeji stood near them in front of the stage. Yeji’s hand rested comfortably on the laser handgun strapped to her hip.
The entrance on the far side of the auditorium opened, Jisung holding the door open as Minho led a small well behaved group of children walking two by two to a reserved section of seats mid way down the aisle. They took their seats and spoke quietly amongst themselves. Jeongguk and his schoolmates would never have been so polite on a field trip.
Bringing up the rear of the group, Hyunjin walked in carrying a young girl with green scales and forehead horns on his hip. He bounced her gently as he helped her wave a small hand at Changbin. The security officer didn’t move, but his lips quirked in a small smile.
Even in a crowd, the Estron stood out with his bright red hair framing high cheekbones and bright blue eyes. He appeared almost regal with the fluid way he moved. It probably fed the rumors that he was some sort of prince back on Ddaear. Whenever Jeongguk had asked Namjoon about the stories, his friend would only smirk and change the topic of conversation.
Ambassador Suursaadik frowned at the children and their teachers from the stage. His nose wrinkled in distaste as Jeongin jogged down the aisle with the ship’s final student in his arms. Everything was an annoyance to the man.
“Of course adorable kids would bother him,” Hwasa whispered into Jeongguk’s ear. “And imagine being upset over having to look at Hyunjin.”
“Don’t let Changbin hear you,” Jeongguk teased back.
“Let him hear. Maybe that will push him to finally ask him out rather than making us all uncomfortable with his pining.”
A throat clearing echoed over the room’s sound system.
“If everyone could take their seats, we’ll begin with the welcome ceremony,” Namjoon announced.
Jeongguk leant back in his seat. The ambassador pulled out a large stack of paper containing his speech from somewhere beneath his seat.
It was going to be a long afternoon.
***
It’s like the world had ended. But he was still there, spinning aimlessly.
He’d lived in Busan as a boy. It should be familiar. But everything felt strange without his parents. Earth even rotated in the opposite direction as Cheongug. It was like he couldn’t get his feet planted no matter how hard he tried.
Nothing felt like home anymore.
