Silence fell over the room. Her vision tunneled, blocking out the hurried footsteps of Mark, the curious questions Jungwoo prodded her with, the piercing stare of Taeyong, and the worry written over Ten's face.
All she could focus on was the man who was shaking, turning paler with each passing second. She opened her mouth, and tried to say his name. Youngho, she tried to whisper, the faintest ghost of her voice passing from her lips, but the moment she tried to speak, her throat tightened, a feeling of pain similar to the feeling of a hot spike being driven straight into her throat made her double over, coughing.
She shouldn't have tried.
Ten rushed forward, catching her as flecks of blood decorated her lips like fallen petals of a withered rose, holding her delicately as if she was glass, a soft voice muttering words of comfort that she couldn't make out. She turned her head to look at her through hooded eyes, and it hurt more.
He really was the picture of a worried angel, chapped lips pulled into a worried frown, eyebrows furrowed and large, soft eyes ghosting over her face. She pulled away lightly from him, massaging her throat as her tongue darted out and swiped at the blood on her lips, the taste of metal and salt overwhelming her taste buds.
He looked away from her, and she could discern a warning glance given to the lookalike of Youngho -Johnny- who was still frozen. His lips were parted in shock, countenance mimicking that of someone who had seen a ghost.
"Rina," Mark's voice filled the room, as the boy stepped forward, laden with worry. "Are you okay?" He knelt down, before she backed away, using the wall as support as she hoisted herself up, eyes fixed on Johnny.
"What's going on?" Mark's eyes were narrowed as he followed Rina's line of sight, landing on Johnny. Ten had paused, tensing as if he was assessing the situation, before he murmured, "Well, this wasn't how it was supposed to happen."
"What?" Mark frowned, staring at Ten weirdly. "Ask him." The black haired gestured to Johnny, to which Mark complied, the shorter stalking up to the taller and looking up at him. "What is it?" He demanded.
"I- I need to talk to her." Johnny said shakily, his gaze having been fixated on Rina for the past few minutes. Silence ensued at his words, before Mark said, "She can't talk."
"Mark." Ten said exasperatedly, gesturing for the younger to come to him. "Let's go in."He made eye contact with the white haired, who had been silent up till this point. "You too, Taeyong." Ten instructed softly.
"Alright," Taeyong shrugged, placing a hand on Jungwoo's shoulder as he guided the blue hair past Rina, flashing the girl an unreadable look. She stared back with narrowed eyes, and then he was gone. Ten turned to leave, but she quickly grabbed his wrist.
He turned in surprise, and she caught a flicker of hope stirring in his eyes, raising an eyebrow at her actions. Paper, she motioned. He gave an understanding nod, deflating ever so slightly. Mark glumly handing over the notepad he was brought with him accidentally in his haste following Rina out of the room.
The black haired male ushered Mark away, before glancing apprehensively towards Johnny, his gaze then flickering to Rina, before he turned away, and left.
His footsteps faded away, the silence once again settling over the two of them like a thick blanket. She raised her eyes from the carpet to Johnny's face, the pale pallor to his skin slowly fading as if he was making an attempt at collecting the last shreds of his thoughts and dignity.
"Are- Are you the ghost girl they brought?" Johnny asked, voice hoarse, almost as if he couldn't bring himself to speak properly. She nodded, glancing at him again. The similarity to Youngho sent chills down her spine, her mind whirring with a thousand possibilities, a million scenarios, a plethora of possible reasons as to why he looked uncannily like her - dead - brother.
"What's your name?" His voice had dropped to a whisper.
He was fidgety, eyes darting all over the carpeted floor, not looking at her. She swallowed, wincing slightly as a jab of hot pain flared in her throat, before pressing the pen to the blank sheet of paper as she scrawled the answer to his question, hands trembling.
Kim Rina.
She extended her hand towards him, eyes on his hands, that shook ever so slightly as he took the sheet of paper, the hue of his skin matching that of the white sheet in his hands.
He didn't look at the answer at first, almost as if he knew what was written there, and instead chose to rest his gaze on her.
His eyes were a small window to the inner turmoil he was facing. Rina thought that if she was standing any closer, she would be able to stare right into his soul, see the waves of curiosity, terror, disbelief and uncertainty that pounded relentlessly on the shores of his stability and sanity.
He let out a breath through his mouth, and dropped his eyes to the paper.
His expression smoothed over, a ripple of calm passing over his features as he raised his eyes back to meet hers, this time the windows closed, thick curtains drawn over the fragile glass.
But there was a chink in his facade, which she could see in the way he nibbled at his lip, as if he was nervous, in the way his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. She could see the gears turning in his mind, hands crushing the edges of paper with his tight grip.
And then he whispered, "Where were you all this time?"
It felt like a punch to the gut, all breath escaping her lungs in a single breath, her lips parting as she struggled to draw in breath. Johnny took a step forward, lower lip trembling. "Do you remember me, Rina?" He asked, swallowing.
"It's me," He whispered.
She didn't want to hear it. She didn't want the scenarios in her head to be true. She didn't want those awful yellow flowers in her chest to have another reason to thrive, but she couldn't stop herself from watching as he pressed the notepad into her hand, eyes glassy.
"It's me," He repeated. "Youngho."
Time stopped. She could feel the seconds freeze, grains of sand trickling in an hourglass stopped in motion, as she stared into the sincere eyes of the man in front of her claiming to be her dead brother.
The brother she had admired for all her life, the one who's body she had clutched, cried, screamed and wept over as she denied all evidence he was dead despite being the one to caress his cold face as he lay on the forest floor.
Her mind used to wander in the prison, daydreaming about how one day he would come to rescue her from the cold cell she had been imprisoned in, but she'd quickly kill all fantasies with the knowledge that he was dead, gone, forever.
How dare this man give her hope?
She snatched the notepad, taking a step back as her nostrils flared, and she made sure to give him a glare so heated she wished he would burn and crumble to ash then and there.
Do not joke about that, you bastard.
She wrote, shoving the notepad into his chest, making him step back in surprise as he read her reply. "I-I'm not joking," He said, looking at her, and she could begin to see the signs of desperation on his face. "I wouldn't joke about this, Rina."
She shook her head, anger bubbling in her veins as she turned around, grinding her teeth so hard she was afraid she would break them, but it didn't stop her from continuing to do so. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she took in deep breaths to calm herself, before deciding this wasn't worth her time.
Whatever resemblance he bore to her older brother, nothing could bring back the dead, and she was no fool to allow a man she had just met to delude her to thinking that.
"Rina," He called out, distress evident in his voice. "Please, believe me, I'm not lying-" He grabbed her wrist, and she whirled around, yanking her wrist away from him furiously. "I can prove to you I'm Youngho, please." He pleaded.
She stared at him, fists clenched, tilting her head as if considering his offer. "I can tell you where mother's grave is." He said, his voice gravelly. She raised an eyebrow, shaking her head. It was common knowledge where her mother had been buried, the location of the cemetery wasn't exactly the most private or exclusive.
"The one we made for her underneath the balcony of our room, between the bushes we played hide and seek for the last time with her a week before she passed." He whispered. "We buried three of her rings and planted a gladiolus plant."
She stilled, fingers unclenching as her eyes widened. Slowly, she extended her hand for the notepad. He breathed a soft sigh of relief as he complied, eyes on her as she wrote slowly.
We found his body in the forest. The DNA matched up. I saw it myself.
She looked at him firmly as she passed it back, tears pricking at the inner corners of her eyes. Biting her lip harshly, she looked down, cursing herself. She'd let him get under her skin, the soft touch of the daydreams she once had brushing against the back of her neck as they reminded her of the yearning she had felt when she missed her brother in the late hours of night, kept company only by the heavy loneliness in the cell.
"Machines can be lied to," He said, his voice soft as he took a hesitant step closer. When she didn't move away, he crouched down, looking up at her. "I'm not dead," He whispered.
Why did you fake it? Why would you want to?
"I hated that place, you knew that." He said. "I needed to get away, and I had to do it in a way that no one would come searching for me."
She swallowed, looking down at him.
Those eyes, how many times had she seen it red with tears, sparkling with happiness, or clouded with doubt? Those lips, how many times had she seen it drawn up in a wide smile as he raised his arms, expectant for a hug, how many times had she seen them tugged downwards into a frown, or trembling while he cried?
His face- he looked older, more mature, happier than the boy she once knew.
Was she weak for wanting to believe him? Was she gullible, stupid, childish, immature, for starting to believe him? She didn't know anymore.
She dropped to her knees, burying her hands in her face as the tears began to fall, crystal drops of sadness, happiness, betrayal staining the carpet as her shoulders shook.
And suddenly she was encompassed with a soft warmth as he pulled her into a familiar embrace, a shaky breath rattling his lungs indicating he was crying too, and almost on instinct, she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his shoulder.
It was comforting.
"I wanted to come back for you," He said, tightening his hold around her. "I swear, I wanted to, but you disappeared. Ten and I tried to search, but you weren't anywhere I thought you could be."
So Ten knew Youngho was alive. Why hadn't he said anything? Was he unsure of Rina's identity, perhaps because of the lack of reaction she had given him?
She hadn't recognized him right away either, maybe that was what happened to him too. And then the soft roots of an idea planted themselves in her mind as she remembered the strange sentence the black haired, catlike male had uttered to himself minutes prior. "Well, this wasn't how it was supposed to happen." Had he been talking about Rina meeting this person?
Those thoughts were pushed to the back of her mind when Johnny - Youngho- pulled away, holding her at arms length, teary eyes surveying her whole face and he let out a watery chuckle. "You haven't changed a bit." He mumbled, the corners of his mouth tugged downwards, and she could tell he was trying not to cry again.
She tried to smile, inhaling shakily as she stared at him. He hadn't changed much either.
Seconds turned into minutes as the two of them stared at each other, neither inclined to break it, content with just looking at each other. She drank in the sight of her brother, well, healthy, alive. Brown hair that had once been black parted messily, once shaggy long locks now cut shorter, making her smile.
"I missed you," He breathed out softly. She wanted to speak, just like she used to when she was younger.
Funnily enough, her inability to speak was something she had gotten used to over the passage of time, to the point where she was sure she didn't miss her voice.
But seeing her brother again reminded her of the times she'd scream at him for waking her up at two in the morning, simply because he wanted to, the times she would scold him, banter with him, laugh loudly, comfort and cry softly, the times they would dance in the corridors singing at the top of their lungs.
She missed her voice just as much as she had missed her brother.
And slowly, she could see the realization dawn upon him as he frowned, unable to put his finger on the thing out of place with his little sister, until his eyes widened slightly and he sat back, the grip on her shoulders tightening.
"Why aren't you speaking?" He asked lowly.
She looked away, shaking her head. "What?" He shook her gently, eyebrows furrowing as concern began to take over the evanescent sparkles in his brown eyes. He bit his lip as in thought, before changing his question.
"Why can't you speak?" He asked softly, and her heart plummeted. He knew. All he needed was a confirmation. She shakily pulled away, picking up the notepad.
Why do they call you Johnny? Do they not know about you being Youngho?
His eyes skimmed over the words, frowning. "The new name was a fresh start for me." He said, pursing his lips. "And yes, they know I have a sister, I don't think they know it's you," He said, before narrowing his eyes. "Did," He began, his tone becoming dangerous. "Did the people in the palace do something to you?"
They were circling the topic, treading in wild and murky waters, and she decided to dive right in. If you're asking whether they turned me into an NCT, she scribbled, they did.
She could hear his heartbeat speed up, she could see something break inside him as he looked at her with shattered eyes. "You," He couldn't go on, lower lip trembling as tears fell faster than ever, this time him being the only one crying.
She didn't have it in her to mourn anymore, so all she did was reach out and brush away a tear, like he used to for her. "They turned you into one?" He whispered.
One of the things Youngho had dreaded while living with their father was every passing day was one day closer to being told by his father that he was ready to become an NCT - to become the perfect human with no flaws, a hunter and predator, with heightened senses and heightened skills.
He would be stripped of everything that made him imperfect- everything that had made him who he was.
He didn't want that, and so when Rina had found him dead, somewhere, deep inside the swarming sea of sorrow and despondency, there was a glimmer of relief, one golden drop among a sea of millions of black ones, that it was for the best. He would never have to be subjected to such horror.
What she had never counted on, was how fast her father turned to her to be the next subject for the experiment. She didn't have any time to fight back, to plead, to even try and escape.
She gave in with no resistance, all strength and life drained from her body. Perhaps being inhuman, being programmed to lose all her weaknesses would help her forget the loss of her brother.
Wires intertwined with veins, codes encrypted into her brain, everything made her stronger, made her one step closer to perfection, one step closer to being the child her father could finally be proud of- until it went wrong, costing her the only form of communication she had with anyone, making it so painful for her to speak she simply chose not to anymore.
Johnny looked away from her, guilt written on his face. "I'm sorry." He said. She shook her head, sighing as she placed a hand on top of his rough, calloused one with an attempt at a comforting smile. Don't be, she wanted to say. It was never your fault.
He said nothing, merely staring at her smaller hand in his own, a weak smile flitting across his lips as his fingers intertwined with hers.
Maybe you should sleep, She wrote, nudging the older, who nodded in agreement. "I think I will." He looked at her fearfully, eyes flickering over her features as if she would disappear if he closed his eyes.
"I won't leave you again." He said, pulling her into a stronger embrace, one conveying his sincerity, his apologies for leaving her behind in a hell hole, a place where they disfigured her humanity.
"I," He drew in another shaky breath. "I really am sorry." She looked up at him, and her heart lurched as tears threatened to fall again, but she blinked hard, suppressing them as the two of them got up, Johnny leading her down the stairs.
"Where were you sleeping?" He asked, looking around confusedly. She pointed to Taeyong's room, before realization dawned upon her.
Taeyong had come back, hadn't he? Where would she sleep now? With Johnny? She frowned, realizing they had halted in front of Mark's room. Johnny possibly shared a room with Mark, and she wasn't inclined to share their room, despite being fond of the younger boy.
A loud noise caught their attention, the two of the simultaneously turning towards the source, which was the black haired male who stood in front of the door she had just pointed to.
"Had a nice chat?" Ten asked, eyes skimming over Rina. She fixed her gaze on him, narrowing her eyes, before turning to Johnny and pointing at him, mimicking the motion of talking. "You need to talk to him?" Johnny asked.
She nodded curtly, turning to Ten with an expectant look. The man stared back, giving her a weak smile. She tugged her hand free from Johnny, stalking over to the taller male, who looked at her with a fond expression, a soft light of amusement dancing in his eyes.
She poked his chest hard, and he let out a small laugh. "I think I'll be borrowing your little sister, Johnny." Ten said, looking up at the brown haired male, who pursed his lips. "Are you okay with that?" Johnny asked lowly, looking at Rina, who nodded quickly.
"Alright." Johnny said uneasily, eyes flickering from her to Ten and back. "I won't do anything." Ten rolled his eyes, ushering the other into Mark's room, before turning to Rina with a soft smile. "You remember me?" He asked.
She looked at him, before softly nodding, hesitantly reaching out to brush her fingers against his. The skinship that came naturally to her with her brother felt foreign with Ten, the years apart having strained the thread that used to keep them connected.
It was still there, weak but alive, reminding her of its existence by sending tingles up her fingers when they met his, drawing a smile on his face as he rushed forward and wrapped his arms around her tightly, burying his face in her hair.
She breathed in his clean scent, the soft smell of vanilla soothing her frazzled nerves and tired mind, chasing away the last bits of adrenaline from when she put the pieces together and realized she knew who he was.
"I missed you," The boy breathed, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering faster at his words. She tightened her hold on him, before standing on her tip toes and brushing her lips against his forehead.
Thank you, she mouthed, and he gave her a smile, eyes crinkling softly at the edges. "I thought I had searched for you everywhere," He said. "The second level of the prison was never where I thought you would be."
Third, she corrected, and his eyes widened comically. "For eight years?" She raised her eyebrows, surprised he had kept track of the passage of time, before nodding slowly.
He looked down at her, before tentatively bringing his hand up, the pads of his fingertips brushing over her cheekbone, before gently poking her cheek, eliciting a smile from her.
He'd kept his word, hadn't he? He had found her in the prisons alongside his friends, and he had set her free.
Perhaps fate had finally decided to be kind to her, eight years of suffering being the price she had to pay for the revival of those she cherished and thought to be dead. Perhaps she still was in danger with these men, she thought, as she looked up at Ten, eyes scanning the impish features that had matured, but that danger was one she was now willing to take on if it meant she could keep him and her brother by her side from now on.
━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━
Author's Note
It's five am, I'm tired and dead inside.
This chapter was pretty hard for me to write, but as of right now, I'm kind of satisfied with how it turned out. Kind of. What do you all think?