« beauty is terror »

[ ... ]

now here he stands, broken and betrayed. and there jongin sits, alone at their usual table in the busy cafeteria. hanbin is clenched fists and locked jaw and seething anger as he stares at the back of jongin’s form. from the latter’s usual stillness, hanbin bitterly assumes that he is blatantly unfazed by the previous events.

he takes slow steps towards the table, and before long, he’s standing in front of jongin with a gaze that hints at a greater anger within.

“hey,” he tests cautiously, his tone low and not quite achieving its typical indifference. regardless, hanbin sits warily on the chair beside him.

one chance, he thinks. for jiheon, he’ll give jongin one chance to explain himself.

freshman year is strange, to say the least. these days, he was only really comfortable in the cages. he still lacked control, but the monster cage allowed him to let go every once in a while. at least, that’s what the captain and vice captain always emphasized. whether or not they also emphasized the rules of a monster cage match is, let’s say, on a need-to-know basis.

the rest of the games were more tame, if you can call outright chaos tame. but that’s how jongin viewed them. they were essentially races against time, battling the other teams to kill more monsters or find more clues. it was somehow more boring than fighting a living, breathing human being head on. wiping out the sentience of a simple-minded monster just didn’t cut it.

when kim hanbin had made a beeline for him in the last monster war match, he didn’t think much about it before seriously injuring the other. spikes of blood had pierced and projected themselves out of hanbin’s arms, which were enclosing him tightly. it was mere instinct—hanbin’s actions were a call to action, prodding jongin’s desire to inflict real damage. despite their connection through jiheon and an established joviality between them over the past two months, it simply wasn’t enough for jongin to restrain fifteen years of built up bloodlust.

he could supposedly tell hanbin all of this, when the other walks up to him in the cafeteria, but he’s hopelessly oblivious to most matters of the heart and how these emotions play out on other’s facades. all he can tell is that hanbin looks different today, and he brushes it off as something unrelated to him and swallows his food.

[ ... ]

“Oh my god.” She straightens. “Are you—" 

There’s the sound of rustling, a telltale sign that he’s alive and kicking, and it’s enough to shut her up. 

Gingerly, she reaches out to pick up the phone that’d flung free from impact, then sits, legs tucked underneath her. 

There’s very little about this that proves to be funny. Nonetheless, she gives it her best shot.

“Gosh, and to think we’d be too old for hide and seek.” A small laugh follows, dry and soft. “Wow.” 

there aren’t many words that can describe this situation other than painfully awkward. the girl is already sitting by his feet and so he crouches down as best he can amongst the wreckage of fallen coats and old shoes. he can feel her words and muted laugh brush past his cheek and he’s suddenly more self-conscious than he’s been all night in his bright red swim trunks. good thing he opted for a white t-shirt, too.

jongin finally takes the time to really look at his fellow prisoner. it’s almost pitch black but his eyes are starting to adjust by now. even in darkness and shadows, her face resembles something akin to pretty.

her attempt at a joke flies right over his head. as always. “i think they called this seven minutes in heaven.” he was no expert on social gatherings, but he’s been to enough parties to learn what kind of game this was. it makes him nervous, considering he’s completely oblivious to the intentions of the other trapped party.

he clears in throat momentarily and bows his head. “i’m kim jongin, by the way. jaeger captain. you?” he offers her an open palm, though he can’t tell if she even notices his prompt for a handshake.

[ ... ]

Whatever this was, there was a hook attached to fishing line. He’d been hearing very vaguely about the legacies and the history behind the separations, which one was the oldest, which focused on what, yadda yadda. Taejoon’s main point of contact was going to be the end result. In four years time, how would Jaeger help him become someone stronger and more proud of himself? For years, he’s been looking at himself in the mirror in displeasure. His ability was disgusting, his history was depressing, and his career as a soldier was demeaning. He was always the runt, and for once in his life he wanted motivation to be nothing more than an equal of some sort.

Being a respected teammate, quite frankly, sounded fucking dreamy.

If Snow White hesitated before biting the apple and asked a single question, she could’ve saved herself a shit ton of trouble. Taejoon was in a catch-22 situation, here. Sure, this all sounded dandy and he could very well end up being hunky-dory by the end of it all. But he knew this wasn’t going to be as simple as saying, I’m in.

“ What’s the catch? ”

jongin definitely wouldn’t put it in such a way, but he was always a no bullshit type of guy. he hated the run around, hated the pretense that cloaked people’s words. recruiting for jaeger was no different for him—the type of fighters in jaeger were nothing to kid about. they were overtly cruel and vicious against their opponents, the prey (wittingly or not) stepping into the lion’s den. jongin was no exception to this rule.

to the eyes of many on campus, jaeger was at the bottom of the totem pole. they were emo freaks, degenerates, aspiring serial killers. jongin was told from the start by his first jaeger captain that self-respect was all about perspective.

“if you’re looking for a catch, jaeger has a reputation of unrestrained violence on campus. only in the monster games, of course. it’s not necessarily a bad thing. i see it as members releasing pent up frustration, letting go of past grudges, problems, and so on.” at least, that’s how jongin reasoned his own uncontrolled behavior in the cage over the years.

“i’m not sure if that’s the ‘catch’ you’re looking for, but if you have no problem with it, you should stop by jaeger’s first training session next week. next friday, 8pm. room 4b in taeryung athletic center.” he points to a building in the distance. it’s hard to miss, considering its size and the amount of students going in and out. jongin lets his arm fall after a moment.

[ ... ]

so now here they both are, tucked in one of the corners, making stilted conversation. in front of them, in a haze of booze, a bunch of teens are facing each other’s front (or, a select few, their rear) as they dance, jubilant. they look like they’re having a good time. nayeon eyes the jaeger beside her. if this was a cartoon, a light bulb would switch on above her head about now. “all right!” it’s said abruptly. her cup is put aside. with a nod mostly to herself, her fingers circles around his wrist, grip steady— still loose enough for him to break away, if he truly wants to, but tight enough to ensure he knows she’s a woman on a mission.

without much else, or warning, she pulls him into the direction of what she assumes they’ve assigned as the dance floor. “let’s dance. you’re here to have fun, so i’ll show you how to have it.”

there’s been a ghost following jongin, ever since the beginning of the school year. he doesn’t know where she came from, or what it wants from him. one day she appeared, always trailing in the background, chirping like the birds he hears on the quad. it’s a friendly ghost, so he lets it stay. sometimes he responds to her questions but her presence always feels more unreal whenever he does.

at the monster bash, she’s there again. his cheeks are a bit flushed but he still maintains his balance, his dignity. they stand for a while without saying much, strobe lights crossing their bored faces and the low bass from the speakers vibrating in their cores. one moment melts into the next, until the ghost grabs his wrist and pulls him into the crowd. his heart rate skyrockets and he blinks to make sure he’s seeing everything correctly.

dance? jongin has never danced in his entire life. his friends have tried—oh they’ve tried. but never once has his body known a rhythm besides the natural, steady beat of his heart. shoulders are bumping into his, and he watches the ghost—nayeon, was it?—start to move her hips to the beat of the music. he stands stock still, nervous, scared of what will happen if he tries to mimic her. maybe she’s more horrifying than he initially thought.

[ ... ]

she felt a tug at the anchor of her heart, and shook her head lightly, shifting her gaze to grinning jongin, a sight that convinces her lips to take on a quirk of their own, and her fingers to give his right cheek a light squeeze.  mideum wanted to say something along the lines of thank you, and i adore you incredibly, but “if you walk me,” came out instead, followed by the offering of an arm.  

the slip and slide of traipsing through the sand left mideum a combination of breathless and overflowing with laughter.  

“we gotta– jonginin!  we have to keep it together, jesus christ,” she cackled, taking another swig of her drink. “captain of jaeger my ass.”

minutes ago, each sip tasted a little desperate, but there was something about being glued to a comerade that made the sickly sweet poison taste a little warmer. even when she somehow managed to spill it down her chin and wrist. on the pier now, she mumbled, “wait a second,” detaching herself from her fellow adventurer to kneel on the boardwalk, and reach into the water, utterly convinced the taste of salt was worth the rescue from stickiness.  

“not to give you any ideas, but if you push me in.  you’re… wow, you’re dead to me i think.”

the pinch of a cheek: a small, strange act of intimacy for kim jongin, the boy who earned ten bruises a week growing up. most acts of friendly intimacy he experienced came from mideum, ever since they first became friends in the heat of youth. he had always found such behaviors uncomfortable. a suffocating hug, pecks on the cheek, hair ruffled by lithe fingers. tonight, his heart is beating irregularly, and he can’t tell whether it’s the alcohol or not.

her arm is offered and jongin hooks his arm into hers clumsily, gladly. the two move forward as one. he is conscious of bumping shoulders, elbows, and hips; of flushed cheeks and even warmer eyes. every time she laughs, he laughs even harder. jongin has never felt so senseless but full of life at the same time.

his head lulls back, tired, and the night sky looks infinite. it feels like they’re floating in space. “we always keep it together. why can’t we fall apart?” his words are beginning to slur, near unintelligible.

at some point, they arrive at the pier, marked by the sound of hollowed footsteps on wood planks, and mideum’s warm presence by his side disappears. his gaze is horizontal again, scanning for his friend. a lazy smile is half forming on his face when he hears the semi-threat. there is no urge for him to push her in. instead he kneels by her side and pulls her hair back for her as she washes her face, fingertips grazing the back of her neck. he feels the urge to return those intimate acts, which mideum gives out so generously.

in such moments of hazy drunkenness, jongin feels like a normal human being. a being opposite of who he normally is.

jiheon has the gall to scoff at the less than pitying (god, what did someone have to do around here to get some empathy? then again, it had been his own fault for trying to receive some from kim-stick-up-an-ass-jongin) answer and reaches for his toothbrush. “what, are you used to byul trying to bite your dick off as soon as you see her, or taeyong getting that big ass head of his stuck in turtlenecks, or mideum noona always fuckin’ smiling?” he squeezes toothpaste onto the bristles, shoves the brush in his mouth to scrub and shakes his head. “like i always say, if it wasn’t for the pay, i’d be gone.”

really though, what was a broke student supposed to do? for now, he clenches his teeth at work, throws smiles and pretends he doesn’t feel tempted to slam drinks down in front of customers.

he spits out the foam and rolls his eyes, though notes are clicking into place at the back of his mind and it sucks because he’d rather be sleeping so early instead of drowning in liver facts. “all i hear is that we only have livers to drink and eat.” a pause. “vital to the human body? i think the fuck not. vital my ass, biology gives me a headache.”

jongin tilts his head at jiheon’s questions. byul had definitely gotten rougher around the edges since college, but jongin never minded her way of talking, never really minded anybody’s way of talking. he grew up believing someone’s actions and morals were more important than the venom they spat. ironic, since the only exception to this rule was his father, the abuser who taught him such a thing.

“i think you’re mistaking my relationship with byul for your relationship with byul.”

what little sass that lives in jongin’s personality only comes out in these moments, moments of reciting the truth. for some reason, byul simply didn’t talk to jongin the way she talked to jiheon and taeyong. sometimes she did, but not always. he didn’t understand it, that’s for sure, but he realized it had ended up this way sometime last year.

“why should i mind the size of taeyong’s head or mideum’s smile in the first place?” he drops the work conversation at that, though, understanding the irritation growing in jiheon’s voice.

[ ... ]

“yeah, the ra seemed to take notice of you.” his eyes crack open before he realized he had closed them, focusing on jongin. he nods, smiles, but this time it’s edging on mischief, like he’s the beholder of a secret pegged right above jongin’s head. “she was quite giddy to bring you up.”

it’s only when he registers jongin’s eyes pointedly eyeing where he sits that he notices how at home he’s made himself on the bed, stroking the mattress in brief contemplation. “oh, yes, if you don’t mind? i can be a bit of a agitated sleeper every once in awhile.” awfully territorial of his, a habit proving to be hard to kill. the idea of consulting jongin’s preference never ever crossed his mind, it nearly makes him feel bad. what a considerate kid.

taemin wonders, mind slipping off-track to trail a crimson-stricken tangent, if he’d pay for the mistake with his life at the hands of well-mannered, hawkish jongin that night.

he leans forth with interest, curious round eyes searching for the other’s.

“you’re done with service?” it’s not novel or surprising, honestly, but it is an ice breaker. “which division were you in?”

“giddy?”

jongin had arrived just half an hour before his roommate, so he remembers the exchange clearly. the ra liked rocking on the balls on her feet as she spoke, and there was a high-pitched lilt to her voice, close to that of a tiny sparrow. he doesn’t understand what his new roommate is saying, or insinuating for that matter; flirtations, love, romance. they were all concepts that had willfully ignored kim jongin over the years, in favor of those who weren’t as stale as cardboard or, should we say, socially inept. he lets the comment go, his interest in the ra waning, reaching down for his duffle bags and approaching one of the standing wardrobes.

“okay” is all he says in response to the bed situation. he looks at taemin as he says this—basic rules of respect—and then proceeds with unpacking his bags, everything already perfectly folded in ninety degree angles as he pulls them out. there’s a rhythmic quality to his efficiency and the way he moves in general; it seems programmed, creepily animatronic.

once taemin asks for his divison, jongin stops unpacking and looks up at him with more interest. it there was one thing that could pull jongin’s attention every time, it was military talk. he couldn’t help it—it was practically his first language, learned under the strict guidance of the major general, his father.

[ ... ]

“did you just call me by my name?” and there were probably at least a dozen less embarrassing things he could have said instead, but park jimin had a bad habit of leaping right for his own jugular, and jaeger captain kim jongin had just called him by his name.

“sorry, i mean– yeah, i know who you are, who doesn’t?”

he’d meant to say that jongin didn’t have to explain who he was, but the second comment still comes out a little more deadpan, a lot more rude, and jimin figured if he ever did become some kind of legendary healer that even his beautifully carved memorial statue would still have its own foot shoved in its mouth.

what do you say to someone with actual social influence around gumi besides patching up idiots that throw themselves through walls? well, for starters, answering the actual question wouldn’t be a bad idea.

“sorry, i’m sorry,” jimin seemed to snap back to life all at once, pushing himself, short legs and all, out of his bar stool to bow politely to the third year, pointedly ignoring the burn at the tips of his ears. “what kind of favor did you need?”

“i did. it’s how you get someone’s attention respectfully.” jongin had a habit of reciting basic facts to people as if they didn’t already know, and then missing the point completely. no doubt jimin had been surprised because jongin knew his name, rather than called it, but very few people knew the subtleties of jongin’s personality intimately.

despite jongin’s numerous shortcomings when it came to social situations, names (and the powers attached to those names) were one of his strengths. plus, park jimin had been in the background of his life just enough since entering gumi—in bio lab, in the infirmary, in the monster games—for jongin to feel comfortable in approaching him.

i know who you are, who doesn’t?

jongin was about to say something along the lines of “7 billion people” but he caught on more quickly this time around. it’s a rhetorical question, dramatized for effect. one week of being jaeger captain and jongin still hadn’t noticed his increased notoriety around campus. he never understood politics—rather, he never wanted to understand. he couldn’t process the behavior of a frazzled hellion member being confronted by the jaeger captain. in such a state of obliviousness, he asks a rival legacy member for help.

[ ... ]

“ Listen, Jongin. I’m gonna be real — ” He let out a slightly complacent sigh before shrugging while shaking his head. “ — I don’t know what the deal is here. I don’t know if you and your friend are playing a prank on the old guy or what, but if that’s all you’re in for then I’m gonna go. Okay? ”

It could be the strict six years talking, but Jongin the Jaeger would have to convince the hell out of Taejoon to keep him for more than a minute. After having the words leave his mouth, he felt that he was too brash. He honestly kept forgetting that he was in college.

“ Nothing personal, I’m just uh — ” He chuckled quietly, scratching his nose and finding that twenty-five wasn’t quite old enough to be saying something like this, but alas. “— I’m too old for the frat stuff, man. ” 

the first time jongin discovered the monster games, the legacies, jaeger—he never imagined himself as a leader in such a strange and small society. the only thing he knew—how to fight—pushed him into this world of powered ‘frats’ and ‘sororities.’ he didn’t care about the politics; he cared about the freedom, the adrenaline, the hurt. after taejoon finishes talking, jongin speaks.

“cho taejoon.”

the charisma required for a leader was never in his genes, but the captain position was something he still fought for, took down the last captain for, literally with his own blood, despite not really knowing why he wanted it so badly. although he won the title of captain, recruiting was never jongin’s forte. a majority of jaeger members approached the legacy of their own free will. they only desired to fight, just like him.

“song byul doesn’t have time for pranks, nor do i. as the captain of lotus, she has other things to worry about. in fact, it says a lot that she took her time to help you and me out.” his words were perfectly fluid as they came out, his eyes fixed on the other’s expression, never wavering. such a habit was definitely one of his creepier behaviors, but it indicated the level of his sincerity as he spoke.

“i’ll keep my pitch short, since it seems like you want to leave. legacies are more than just veiled fraternities. we provide additional training for our members, aside from what the school provides all students. we compete, it’s a natural fact.” jongin gestures at taejoon’s injury, his gaze hovering over it, concentrating on the broken skin hidden underneath the bandage for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “i hope you don’t mind that i stopped the bleeding. if you mind, feel free to break it again.” he pauses to gauge a reaction, if any. “but if you want to get better at controlling your powers, jaeger is the place for you. our members don’t care about things other legacies care about. our specialty, as they say, is the cage match. one versus one. naturally, we’re more concerned about our individual improvement in controlling our abilities, but we’re also loyal to each other, no matter who we are. age and all.”

[ ... ]

So, that being said, he stomped his way across campus to find the Jaeger dormitory. Walking through the occasional groupings and stares. He grew used to the look of his scars, calloused skin forming after the initial thick pink tender skin and scabs. But Taejoon hadn’t realized that his most recent of injuries was bleeding through the few quick layers of gauze. He became distracted from the sting and soreness after placing his gaze upon a figure waiting in front of the dormitory.

Immediately feeling uneasy, he looked around at his surroundings and slowly approached the other without a single word. Nothing but a gaze and pure caution, he stood quietly at a fair distance away. 

If there’s one thing that six years of constant combat training taught him, it was the importance of caution. This place fucked him over in his first three minutes, he was in no place to assume that it wouldn’t happen again.

in a few short years, the jaeger dorm house had become the stuff of legends on campus. alpha’s old dorm was assigned to jaeger after it was first formed, but no one actually lived in it. it was nearly falling apart when it fell in the hands of jaeger—mold infestation in the walls, shattered windows, old trash, rusted plumbing. no one really knew the condition of the building except for them and the school, but there was no room in the funding to renovate a whole building for a baby legacy. the members eventually blacked out the windows with paint or covered them up with cardboard if they were smashed. a bet and a bad incident involving a hellion member caused rumors to circulate about the jaeger dorms. it’s a deathtrap.

this year, jongin wanted to use the space as a preliminary test for freshmen recruits. after receiving a text from byul—i’ve got someone for you—he walked over to meet whoever byul found for jaeger. it might’ve seemed strange to an outsider. why would a captain find recruits for another captain? isn’t that counterproductive?

but such things were inevitable. jongin would’ve found him eventually.

he waited for a few minutes, under the oak tree in front, and spotted someone approaching from across the lawn. usually students veered far away from this part of campus, unless they were going to the engineering building nearby.