#exo pathcode

“Very funny,” Lara said. She took her hand back and went to the sink as he threw away the towel while trying to hold back laughter.

“I’ll get you a bandage,” he said. He paused and picked up the rose, thought about tossing the offending thing in the trash, but opted to just set it on the table.

“I heard it’s bad luck in some cultures,” she said. 

“You don’t seem like the type to believe in superstitions,” he said, handing over a small bandage. She only shrugged.

They went back to their tasks and after a minute of silence she spoke up again. 

“There are a lot of things in the world that can’t be explained.” She moved the flowers around in the vase, still focused on her task, but he paused with his knife halfway through the bread and looked back at her. “I think you have to keep an open mind about things.” With a nod of satisfaction, she picked up the vase and turned to face him. “What do you think?”

“Looks good,” he said, then finished cutting the bread as she took the vase to the other room. 

“Did you decide on what to watch?” he asked, placing the plate of bread and cheese in the center of the dining table before joining her on the couch. The TV buzzed in the background, waiting for a decision to be made as she fiddled with the remote in her hands.

She dropped her head back against the couch with a sigh and held the remote out to him. “I can’t decide.” She sat up suddenly, then jumped to her feet. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I forgot to call the bakery about something,” she said, rushing around the couch. “I’ll just call them real quick. You go ahead and decide. I won’t be long.”

He looked back at her a few times while she talked on the phone, absently trying to choose from one of the few old movies he owned, ultimately deciding to just grab one at random and throw it in the VCR when she got done. Her hastiness was carrying over to him and he wondered what she possibly could have forgotten that had made her so flustered. When she hung up he got to his feet and joined her, making her jump. 

He chuckled and took her hand. “You okay? You seem really nervous.”

“Sorry,” she said, letting out an airy laugh that he could tell was forced. “I left something sitting that has to be finished tonight in a specific time frame and just got really worried it would get messed up.” She smiled and let go of his hand. “Did you decide?”

“Random draw,” he said. “Let’s have some wine first. Maybe it will help you calm down.” Without waiting for a response he went to the kitchen to grab the bottle and opened it with a flourish, pulling a laugh out of her. He poured the glasses and then set the bottle down. 

“Do you happen to have any olives?” she asked as he walked back to the kitchen to return the opener. 

“I should,” he said then poked his head in one of the cupboards, moving around jars until he found them way in the back. “Got ‘em,” he called, then grabbed a dish to put them into before heading back to the table. 

“Thank you,” she said. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes and she was swirling her glass more to keep herself busy than anything else.

He took the seat across from her, swirling his own glass on the table as he observed her. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked and she looked up at him with raised brows. 

“Talk about what?”

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug as he lifted his glass. “But something is bothering you.”

Her eyes left his and she eyed his glass for a minute before shaking her head. “It’s okay,” she said quietly. “I don’t really want to talk about it tonight. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I’ll be here to talk if you want to. When you want to,” he said, taking a sip. 

“You’re too good sometimes,” she said, taking a sip from her own glass. 

“Nah,” he said. He placed the glass back on the table and reached for the bread and cheese. “I’m pretty selfish most of the time.”

She shook her head at him. “You’re not,” she said firmly. “You just think you are.” She lifted her glass and took a long drink and his eyes widened in shock. “I’m the selfish one,” she said after placing her glass down with maybe a bit more force than was necessary.

He mulled it over for a minute and then lifted his glass to her. “How about this?” he said. “We can both be selfish sometimes. That’s just how we are as people.”

She met his eyes and tried to smile before tapping her glass to his. When she did he smiled at her again and then took a long drink of his own. 

“Ah…” he sighed and observed the bottle. “We really shouldn’t be chugging such nice wine like this.” 

“It is really good,” she said, then popped an olive into her mouth. 

“One more glass after this and then the movie,” he said, relaxing into his chair, eyes drooping half closed. 

“Sounds good to me,” she said, then chuckled. “Are you going to fall asleep like last time?”

“Nope. Nope,” he said, trying to sit back up, but he was suddenly very tired. Maybe the wine was stronger than he thought it was. “I’ll just eat a bit more and I’ll be good to go.”

“You’re fixing to pass out,” she said. 

And maybe he was. Things didn’t quite look right.

“How strong…was that…” his eyes closed and he slowly descended into darkness.

First, Prev, Next. AO3

Hello hello! Owl here. Bet you all thought I wasn't going to post this weekend at this point ^^'

I ended up spending a lot of time with my family, and didn't realize how late it was. Oops.

But here it is! I hope you enjoyed it.

Tag list:

He eyed the tall buildings around, its intimidating height towers all the people who walked by. A perfect place to search a target. As for now, nothing captured his eyes. However, the feeling of being watched never left, it still crept under his skin.

They’re getting better, I guess, he thought, quiet arrogantly. 

He stepped into the subway. People around him bumped against his sides as he tried to get in. The people of the day tried to rush their way, quickly boarding or leaving the trains, to their everyday life.

London, such a busy city. 

Once he settled in the train, standing as he held onto the railings, he still felt being watched. A movement on his left caught his attention. He saw someone trying to get through. They met eyes and his gut telling him it’s them.

He straightened his posture and calmly walked away to the next train ahead without being any suspicious. Cautiously he looked around left and right in fear bumping to another one right in front of him.

Once he spotted an odd looking man in a suit reading an old news paper, his instincts told him he had to move away. He thought it’s time to shake them off.

The train stopped and he blend in with the people as he left the station.

The feeling of being followed never left, instead he felt more eyes on him. 

He glanced back and he saw it, them, he broke to fast paced walk. He kept glancing back, they came near and near, he stood no chance for breaking to run with so many people around him without getting attention or more trouble. He couldn’t risk getting caught, not that they have a good chance anyway.

He turned to random abandoned building, inside he broke to jog as he went upstairs to the rooftop.

He halted at the edge as he tried to figure out how they find him. It was rare that they did. If he was found then…did they know that him and his friends were scattered around the globe? Did they find the rest of us?

A ring from his phone broke his train of thoughts. He fished out his phone from his pocket and saw an unknown number sending him a message. Once he opened the message he might not knew who the sender is but he knew where it came from.

A flashback appeared in his mind.

He will not go back to that hideous and fearful place. He won’t.

“Freeze! We’re here to take you back”

He slowly turned around, only to see five people surrounding him; hands steady on their guns. Special guns.

“There’s no use for fighting. We got you surrounded. We got a lot more under this building and inside of it as well” the man in black with black sunglasses in front of him threatened. 

He chuckled. As much as he was worried about how they found him, he was confident. They are not going to catch him this easily. Time for a bit of fun.

He flexed his arms and stretched his neck and he saw all of the men tensed. He smirked, a sinister side grin of his. It’s show time. 

He broke to a run, leaping of the building to the other building, bullets flew at his sides, nearly missed him. 

He rolled around before standing up and jumping to the next building. Men chasing at his tail pushed him to go faster than ever.

He halted when there’s no building to jump on. A big road up ahead. The gap was impossible to jumped at.

He has no other options.

“Subject #8!”

Damn, these men caught up fast, he thought, giving them a praise. Guess they top up their skills to catch them. 

He slowly turned around, his smirk once again appeared on his face. He ran his fingers to his light chocolate hair, ignoring that there were fingers on triggers and bullets ready to fly.

A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes and in a blink of an eye, he disappeared, dissolving with the wind, leaving black smoke behind.

Graffiti littered the walls and doors, poorly written curses, inside jokes and gibberish winding up and down the stairways. The owners of the building had long since left the decor to the whims of the delinquents who lived there, and the hallways always smelled like fresh spray paint and cigarettes. Min had never minded much. It reminded him of a time when he had cared more. Or less. He never knew which.

As soon as he was in the door he pulled off his hat and felt like he could breathe again. The cold had always left him feeling claustrophobic in layer upon layer of clothing. Warmer weather would still be a while away, with something like three months of winter looming ahead.

The cold that lingered in the unheated hall touched the sides of his head where the hair was shaved down close to the scalp, but he ignored the sensation and instead swiped his finger over the side of his headphones, turning up the music and letting the bass pound through his whole body.  

He began to climb the steps ahead of him, grasping the cold railing and concentrating on placing one foot at a time on the next step. The drinks he had consumed after his night shift at the restaurant had made the walk home take a little longer than normal, and made the stairs just a little more difficult to manage. They did, however, quiet the demons in his head and that was worth the loss of coordination, for however long it lasted.

He didn’t hear the other man coming down the stairs, didn’t see him with his eyes trained on his own feet, so when he bumped into someone, Min was shaken out of his stupor for a moment. He looked at the man, who pushed Min away from him, annoyance clear on his face. Min shifted one side of his headphones off his ear, expecting a confrontation that never came. The man continued on down the stairs without a word and Min moved his headphones back into place and kept climbing, feeling like he was scaling a mountain. His apartment was on the top floor, and the old building didn’t have an elevator.

After what felt like ages he reached his apartment. The door swung open easily; he had forgotten to lock it once again. Probably not the wisest choice, but the living space was mostly bare, with only a few possessions scattered about. Nothing he owned was worth stealing to anyone looking to make some quick cash.

He leaned his skateboard against the wall next to the door, then plodded into the living room and swung his backpack onto the couch. It landed with a quiet thud. Min’s almond eyes rested momentarily on the standing lamp that now lay on the ground, evidence of the last time he’d come home a little drunk and his aim had been less than perfect.

Min sidestepped the plethora of books that were scattered on the floor all around the couch, covering the worn old rug that definitely looked better when it couldn’t be seen. He sat back heavily, releasing his headphones from his ears and sliding them down around his neck instead. The tinny sound of his music still escaped them, but he couldn’t be bothered to turn it off. He just let it buzz in his ears like mosquitos in mid-July.

He hated how messy the room was, his fingers itching to clean up, but his legs and head wouldn’t cooperate. The alcohol had made his thinking a bit fuzzy, and his legs ached with exhaustion from his long, late night shift. He had to be up and functional again by nine o’clock.

University had been difficult to keep up with lately, much to his displeasure. It was why he was in Berlin, but between rent and tuition, scholarships weren’t nearly enough to cover the cost. So he went to his classes during the day and his job at night, and he slept usually about three hours before getting up and doing it all over again. It had worn him down and left him feeling like just a fraction of his old self, Thirteen Percent Min rather than the full hundred. One Hundred Percent Min needed eight hours of sleep minimum, a full three meals a day and a lot less alcohol, a combination he hadn’t had in quite some time.

Despite what his hands wanted, cleaning was the last thing the rest of his body was interested in. It revolted against its own extremities, keeping itself pinned firmly to the couch cushions. The upside to having almost nothing, Min mused as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, was that there was rarely much to clean. Things just got a bit strewn about most of the time. He could live with the mess for one more day, although, to be honest, that’s what he told himself every time he came home from work.

To direct his mind elsewhere, he leaned forward and switched on the television, flipping the channel to some over-the-top German drama. The volume was down to mute, but the man on screen was obviously angry and his mouth was moving, quickly and dramatically. Min didn’t have to turn up the volume to be able to hear the man yelling in his head. He heard enough of it at work that it was like a recording; he could just flip a switch and listen. Almost every night someone shouted at him while they were angry and drunk, their words rough and chopped up with booze. Usually he hadn’t done anything, he was just nearby and couldn’t react poorly without losing his job, which he desperately needed. He was a convenient target for their pent-up aggression. The German language was still a struggle for him, but he knew all the curse words off by heart.

An empty highball glass sat alone on a small, low table to the right of the couch. Min leaned forward and picked it up, turning it in his hand and debating whether he had the energy to stand and get himself some water. It would help the slow throbbing in his left temple, but the dingy kitchen with it’s half-baked fluorescent lighting would likely have the opposite effect and cause his budding headache to fully bloom.

Min eased himself back, settling his head against the couch once again, glass still in hand, as his eyes drifted shut. The flickering light of the television always put him to sleep. The sky was still dark outside, graciously allowing him a couple hours of rest until the cold November light started pouring in through the wall to wall windows behind him, reminding him it was time to start the cycle all over again. The insides of his eyelids danced with the blue light from the screen and his head rolled back, his neck loose and his lips parting slightly as his breathing deepened and slowed.

Right when Min was about to slip off into sleep, he heard a quiet static buzz. He opened his eyes slowly, a little disoriented and heard the sound repeat itself, just a little bit longer this time.

It was coming from the television, an old boxy thing that barely worked half the time and looked like it had travelled forward from the eighties to sit, unimpressed with this future world, in his barren apartment. Min pulled himself forward, suddenly and inexplicably very awake, and looked hard at the television.

Through the buzz and the static, there were images, mostly crisscrossing lines in black and white, but the one he could pick out clearly was the head of a wolf. It was snarling, lips pulled back over sharp and pointed teeth. It stayed there, point blank in the center of the screen, while erroneous lines and words flickered in and out around it, the centerpiece of a bizarrely set table.  

Min stood slowly and walked over to the screen, his feet dragging on the rug and catching on the books scattered about, but he barely noticed. He crouched in front of the television and reached out a hand, slowly and carefully. As his hand got closer, he felt the hum and energy radiating from the old CRT set, the kind of static tension he couldn’t feel anymore in newer electronics. It was part of the reason he kept this old television around for so long, even though it barely worked. The quiet hum made it seem...alive.

When Min got closer, he noticed not only the head of the wolf on the screen, but the word ‘Edinburgh’ as well. It felt like the images were trying to hypnotize him, he could feel the way the patterns writhed and shifted in the back of his mind, like they were being projected onto the inside of his skull. His hand hovered just centimeters away, fingertips alive with energy, but something held him back from reaching out that bare distance and connecting with the glass. He felt like something big could happen, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready. Stand back up, go to his room, collapse into his lumpy old mattress, stick with the status quo. Or make the move, reach out, change the cycle.

For a long minute he crouched there, his legs tense, as he contemplated what to do while the images before him beckoned and pleaded with him. He closed his eyes, trying to block them out, but they were still there, on the insides of his eyelids, proving that he couldn’t escape them no matter how hard he tried.

Finally he opened his eyes again. He had hesitated for long enough. The entire past year had been a hesitation, the moment between an inhale and an exhale, and he was sick of it. Thirteen Percent Min, suspended in a gravity-less void, not moving forward or backward, just stuck in one place. Running on the treadmill and going nowhere.

He reached out, easily closing the miniscule distance between his fingers and the glass that sat just inches from his face.

It was the lightest of touches, but he felt the connection instantly, a wicked buzz rocketing through his veins, electrifying his blood and making all the little hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He kept his fingers glued to the television screen, even as his vision went black and he felt himself falling in every direction at once.

Min wasn’t in his apartment anymore. A huge full moon hung in the sky above him, dripping with the light it reflected back from the sun. The stars were bigger than he had ever seen them, like cut diamonds falling from the sky. Every one of his senses was heightened and he noticed every detail, from the crisp scent of pine trees in the cool wind to the sound of a river rushing nearby, the rumble and roar of it filling his mind and body.

He turned his head, realizing that he was in a forest, surrounded by trees on all sides, with no light but that of the moon and stars. Despite that, he could see everything clearly, including the thick, wild wood that stretched out before him. He took a few steps, feeling the crunch of pine needles and leaf mulch beneath his bare feet, before he noticed that he was walking on four legs. Glancing down, he saw paws covered in warm black fur instead of human feet.

The thought passed briefly through Min’s mind that he should be afraid. He was standing in a forest in the middle of nowhere, ripped out of his Berlin apartment by some unknown force, with paws instead of feet and an incredible sense of smell. Carried on the wind were the scents of a hundred living things that rustled through the underbrush and in the treetops above him. Voles and owls, crickets and deer, all contributing to the feeling of life that pulsated through the surrounding wilderness. If he was honest with himself, he had never felt more alive than he did in this very moment, and that was why he couldn’t bring himself to be afraid.

He picked up his feet, moving from a walk into a trot, getting used to the feeling of moving four legs. He slipped lithely through the trees, branches whipping past his face as he picked up speed, comfortably switching into a run. The moon seemed to encourage him as he sprinted, stretching his lupine legs to their full length.

Min ran as fast as he could, his entire mind and being chasing the feeling of life that had evaded him for so long. The trees surrounding him slowly blurred into one long corridor that he raced through with abandon, for once not caring where he ended up. He ran until he broke through the trees into a clearing full of wildflowers, their scent cloying in his nostrils and making his head spin with pleasure as he panted, catching his breath.

Stopping in the middle of the clearing, he laid down amidst the flowers, extending his front legs out before him, tongue hanging out to the side as he breathed heavily. Light from the moon glistened off the dew that perched upon the flower petals all around him. It would only last until morning, when the sun would rise and it would evaporate like it had never been there in the first place. Nothing more than a dream.

Suddenly, Min remembered that this too must be a dream. He raised his head to the sky, observing the moon as it gazed back at him, prodding him to act. It felt like the moon was encouraging him to stop standing on the sidelines of his own life. Min took a deep breath, filling the lungs that both did and did not belong to him with air, then howled as loudly as he could, the sound exploding from deep within his chest. Closing his eyes, he let out all the anger, frustration, and sadness that had built up inside of him over the last year. His emotions flowed out through that howl like a flood, shooting up into the sky to join the stars.

When Min finally opened his eyes again, he was standing on the sidewalk bordering a road, a lone streetlamp casting light on the uneven cobblestones beneath his feet. Human feet once again, wearing shiny black dress shoes instead of the worn-through sneakers that had been on his feet back in the apartment. These looked like they had cost at least a couple nights worth of tips at the restaurant, entirely more than he could ever afford.

Running his hands up his body, Min felt the intricate weave of a luxurious Italian suit beneath his finger tips. It was probably worth more than the whole apartment building in Berlin. He tugged gently on the collar of the white silk dress shirt he was wearing, rubbing the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. It fit him like a glove, snug or loose in all the right places. It made him feel like a billionaire.

He looked around and saw that he was standing on top of a hill. The cobbles on which his feet were planted continued down in front of him, a railing to his left keeping those who walked on the sidewalk from falling down the steep embankment that bordered the footpath. At the bottom of the hill and to the left stretched out a night market, the far edge of it marked by a ferris wheel. It was a ghost town in the early morning hours while the sky was still dark, the tents and the tables bare, the wind whistling softly through the empty corridors.

The same dazzling moon shone above him as it had moments before in the forest. Min turned to look at it and saw that it now took up a large portion of the sky, like it was close enough to crash into the earth. The silhouette of a castle at the top of the hill was superimposed in front of the moon, miniscule in comparison to it’s shining presence. It created a spectacular effect, like when the earth just began to cover the moon during a lunar eclipse. Min had never seen anything like it before in his life.

Behind him was the castle and before him was the night market, and Min couldn’t make up his mind as to which way he should go. He stood for a moment, contemplating, a heavy feeling inside his head telling him that, yet again, this was an important moment. That this choice would have a greater and longer-lasting impact than it seemed at first glance. That feeling pressed against the back of his skull and the inside of his eyeballs and he knew he had no hope of ignoring it.

The seconds ticked by; he could hear the hands of a clock moving, like something in his mind was keeping time as well as pushing him towards a decision. Min took a deep breath, ran a hand over his slicked-back hair and turned on the heel of his fancy dress shoe, beginning up the hill towards the castle. The pressure in his head released almost instantly and he exhaled in relief.

He reached the castle quicker than he imagined he would. Even though the climb had been steep, he wasn’t out of breath. In fact, he felt as though cool, clean water had been splashed on his face. He was refreshed.

The castle was perched upon a massive rock, overlooking the city from the perfect vantage point, like a sentry protecting their charge. Its presence over the surrounding buildings was domineering and Min couldn’t help but be in awe of it.

He stepped up to the massive wooden doors, uncertain of what he would find when he crossed the threshold into the stone fortress. Everything felt so real even though he knew, yet again, that this was some kind of a dream. The cool highland air caressed his face, the carved wood of the doors was rough beneath his finger tips, and the crown that encircled his head rested heavier than he imagined it would.

With the sudden realization, his hand flew up, lightly touching the ornate diadem that had materialized out of thin air. He stood still for a moment, taking in the feeling of the beautiful woolen suit and the weighty golden crown. He felt like a king. Perhaps in this world that was what he was supposed to be. He sensed that he would know as soon as he pushed open the doors to the castle.

This time, he didn’t hesitate for one second. The thought didn’t even cross his mind. He leaned his shoulder against the massive door, expecting it to be heavy, but it moved with ease at the lightest touch. He stepped back, then placed one hand on each door tentatively and pushed.

The gates opened smoothly and soundlessly inward, allowing the light within to escape. It bloomed across his face, and no matter how hard Min tried to peer through it, he saw nothing but that immeasurable brightness, growing by the second. The peals of laughter, like bells trilling, exploded from within the castle, the sounds of a party that he just couldn’t see.

The light continued to grow until Min had to squeeze his eyes closed so that he wouldn’t be blinded. He took a few deep breaths, nervous and excited all at once.

When he exhaled for the third time, everything went dark, from top to bottom like a curtain dropping over a stage. A quiet buzz filled Min’s ears and he felt the rough weave of a cheap rug beneath him. He opened his eyes slowly, taking in the familiar cracked and water-stained ceiling that he had stared up at night after long lonely night.

Morning sunlight was just beginning to filter through the thin glass windows that covered the wall behind the sofa. The source of the buzzing was the television, still on but now only playing static. Min pushed himself into a seated position, legs stretched out before him, once again clad in old cargo shorts, crew socks and ripped sneakers. He stared hard at the screen but saw nothing other than the squiggling black and white lines that popped up when he switched to any station but channel three.

Min lifted a hand to his head, rubbing his forehead. He missed the weight of the crown he had worn. He wasn’t sure if he had fallen asleep or lost consciousness. Was his entire experience a dream or had he been hallucinating because of the alcohol he’d consumed earlier? Or, and this was by far the scariest and most invigorating option, had it been real?

He stood slowly, placing a hand on the television set to steady himself, still feeling that electric buzz the electronics emitted. He walked over to the windows and leaned his hands against the sill, looking out over a city that was just beginning to wake, although of course, Berlin never truly slept.

Despite the chilly November air, Min unlatched one of the windows and pushed it open, the sounds of the city flooding in with the morning breeze. He closed his eyes, taking in the life that ebbed and flowed like a river around him.

For the first time in a long time, he felt that same life pulsating through him, propelling him forward, pushing him to act and react. To be human again.

He needed to return to being One Hundred Percent Min, he knew that without a doubt. If his dreams or hallucinations had brought to his mind one thing, it was that he could no longer sit on the sidelines and watch his own life go by as a mere spectator. He wanted to participate. He wanted to win. He needed the freedom to run like a wolf, as well as the courage and confidence to wear the crown. To be the king.