sooenaemoured | 2014: The World From Above (2/3) (for everyone)

Kyungsoo still remembers his first (and only) visit to the States.

Three years ago, he was part of a group of five representing the United Kingdom at an international summit between participating Jaeger Academies in San Francisco. Selected trainees and their respective teachers - mostly retired pilots contributing back to the programme by supplying knowledge and experience - were given a glimpse at the then-latest technology in the business, sitting in the sidelines at conferences between world leaders and witnessing presentations on prototype Mark 3 models firsthand.

Assembly was the very best part. The frame of one of the first Mark 3 Jaegers in the world stood tall and proud in the loading bay for all to see, an enormous marvel of nuclear engineering, the United States' very own Shadow Hunter. The rails were full of carts and extended platforms carrying all manner of J-Tech staff, from engineers working on core fortifications to technicians making absolutely sure each metal plate fused together seamlessly. Even the smallest air breach could prove fatal.

It would be one of the most grievous lies in his life if Kyungsoo were to say the whole experience didn't leave an impact on him. The sheer power of it all, the feeling of being in the eye of the storm and watching the havoc let loose all around him, was as overwhelming as it was exhilarating for a wide-eyed trainee who'd been in the Academy just shy of two years.

But the memory that stuck the longest with him isn't having his name called among all his hundreds of peers as part of an elite five, isn't watching Shadow Hunter being put together right before his eyes, isn't seeing the President himself address the world leaders in the summit room.

It's clocking out from the San Francisco base at one in the morning for some fresh air, climbing the slanting slope that leads up to a small cliff overlooking the bay. Golden Gate Bridge wasn't so much red in the night as it is golden, twinkling at him merrily against a sky as dark as ink. He sat for an hour or two, watching the cars go by, admiring the sparkling reflection of the bridge in the water.

People called New York 'The City That Never Sleeps'. From what he's seen on the Internet and through mass media, Kyungsoo could tell The Big Apple is a lot busier than this, even in the wee hours of the morning. In its own way, though, San Francisco never really dozed off either. Its watchful sleeplessness felt warm, even reassuring, as if the city had kind eyes that were always looking out for him.

Maybe it was the beauty of the Golden Gate, or the fact that the moon was full and glowing that night. It could even have been the haziness of his mind, but that was the first time Kyungsoo truly felt the world was beautiful, and that this beauty was something he could put his trust in, could commit to protecting.

Watching Byun Baekhyun, leaning against the railing of outdoor observatory platform A and staring up into the sky, is the second.

Kyungsoo's thoughts run astray as he ponders how best to approach Baekhyun. Familiarity? Hostility? Caution, perhaps? They haven't spoken since their brief exchange in the Conn-Pod two evenings ago, before they Drifted. Kyungsoo had meant to talk to him after the Marshall dismissed all of them, but Baekhyun had been the first to leave, grabbing his coat and walking briskly out the door without so much as a second glance back at Kyungsoo.

The Marshall's official announcement came before dinner break yesterday. Kyungsoo had just made it to the cafeteria when the short tune that always preceded important notices hushed the milling staff and rangers alike into silence. Jongin froze next to him, smile fading from his face, one hand on his food and the other unmoving from its grip on Kyungsoo's arm.

"Attention, Seoul HQ; this is Shatterdome Marshall Wu Yifan speaking. South Korea's first Mark 4 Jaeger, Nova Hyperion, will go live tomorrow, with its newly-commissioned pilots, Do Kyungsoo and Byun Baekhyun. Pilots, please report to accommodation tomorrow. Seoul HQ, have a good night."

The click that signaled the end of the announcement sounded more like the boom before an overloaded dam bursts. Loud cheering and congratulatory wishes rang in his ears, people were shaking his hand left, right and centre, slapping him on the back and whooping. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the cafeteria ladies staring at him in awe. Through the sea of faces around him, he makes out Chanyeol giving him two thumbs-up, Jongdae and Minseok grinning so brightly, they seemed to radiate happiness.

The roar of the crowd was deafening, but Jongin's quiet, "Congrats, hyung," spoke louder than them all. His eyes never quite lived up to the smile on his face, warm words sounding too cold. The grip on Kyungsoo's arm loosens and falls away, disappearing just as abruptly as Jongin's tall figure, lost in the crowd of people pressing in all around him.

Kyungsoo shakes his head from side to side, an unfamiliar taste on his tongue. He should've gone looking for Jongin, to console him and to tell him that not making the cut isn't the end of the world. Kyungsoo can say with all the certainty in the world that Jongin would become a ranger as good as any other in time to come, that he'll pilot his own Jaeger with a worthy co-pilot by his side. He should've done that, but he'd found himself wading through the crowd, searching for Byun Baekhyun instead.

He never found either of them yesterday night.

Today, Baekhyun is dressed in skinny jeans, a black top, a cap perched on his head, outlined in gold and silver under the light of the moon. It's the first time Kyungsoo's seeing him in an outfit that isn't all black. He opts for as gentle a conversation starter as any, a simple, "Hey," that he hopes will be enough to grant him purchase on the ice, if not break it. The automatic doors slide shut silently behind him.

Baekhyun whirls around, a startled gasp slipping past his defenses, expression rotating between shocked and confused before finally settling on slightly awkward. "Um... hi." Kyungsoo isn't sure what he was expecting, or if he was expecting anything at all, but Baekhyun sounds gentler now, like a skilled hunter trudging carefully over fresh snow. He doesn't sound as unfeeling or as nonchalantly abrasive anymore, and it feels nice.

"Can I join you?" Kyungsoo ventures, taking a step forward, waist pressing lightly against the metal railing.

No words pass between them, but the small curve of Baekhyun's lips and the soft, faraway glint in his eyes say all Kyungsoo needs to hear. Stay. Stay here. Talk to me.

When Baekhyun had been nothing but frosty, enigmatic, almost soulless, it felt only natural to fight back, fire with fire. Some part of Kyungsoo still wonders if it had been survival instincts kicking in, or if it was his inborn tendency to believe that everybody had some good in them. Maybe, Kyungsoo thinks, when he locks gazes with Baekhyun and finds his chest suddenly too constricted for him to breathe, it's because he knows there's something beneath the surface. Cocooned in walls of ice and steel, designed to keep people out and its contents safe.

Kyungsoo realises he doesn't really mind looking for a way around the wall, so long as he gets to touch whatever's being hidden inside and tell it that it's safe with him, that he won't hurt it, not after what he's seen in the Drift.

"You saw everything," Baekhyun says quietly, his gray eyes drinking Kyungsoo in like he's translucent, trailing over every vein and capillary, every tendon and ligament. For somebody who wears mental armour like battle garments even when he's not at war, Baekhyun has an uncanny talent of disarming people.

Nothing is secret in the Drift, is the practiced answer that comes to Kyungsoo on reflex, but he swallows it down in favour of, "We both saw everything." Baekhyun's gaze falls to the ground tens of feet below them, at the hard concrete that suddenly feels like more than a walkway to Kyungsoo. It looks too hard, too inviting, and Kyungsoo's fingers wrap themselves around Baekhyun's wrist before he can help it. "No."

Baekhyun flinches, stares him down with eyes as wide as saucers, but doesn't pull away. His skin feels tense under Kyungsoo's touch, but so, so warm. "How... How did you know...?

How did he know? How was he supposed to know Baekhyun entertained thoughts of the wind in his hair, of his bones breaking upon contact with the stone-cold concrete below them, envisioning the sickening crack as his body twists in unimaginable, horrific angles in his mind's eye, even if they were only fleeting thoughts?

"Ghost Drifting," they both whisper at the same time. Doctor Caitlin Lightcap, possibly the most renowned Drift specialist in all of Jaeger programme history, had published a thesis that eventually earned itself the accolade of being every pilot's unofficial Holy Grail. On rare occasions or between pilots with immensely strong mental links, the connecting threads between their minds never truly fade away, even after they've stepped out of a Jaeger.

Baekhyun's gaze has never left him, but now there's a new edge in his irises. Intrigue, perhaps, and the smallest leeway towards acceptance. "We're not such different people after all, are we?" he asks softly, shifting his hand to slip his fingers between Kyungsoo's. Kyungsoo expects to choke back a gasp, but it never comes; even the fit of their hands is perfect, down to the crooks of their fingers. Something like elation flows through his veins, like the feeling of finding the lost piece to a puzzle he's been working on.

Courage bubbles up Kyungsoo's throat, takes form in words that he finds he truly means. "You're good enough to be here, Baekhyun, and that's good enough for me. The world needs us."

"Yes," Baekhyun says thoughtfully, resting their hands on top of the metal railing, cold muted by the heat of Baekhyun's skin on his, a welcome, reassuring weight. "But do we need the world?"

"You know my dad was a pharmaceutical millionaire. We lived in Gangnam, and he used to make eight figure salaries every month. He owned entire conglomerates; pharmacies, medicine manufacturers, hospitals, they were all under this company's umbrella." Kyungsoo isn't at all sure if this counts as an answer, but Baekhyun's curious eyes, glowing softly under the light of the moon, is as much of a green light as he needs. "He had it all. A loving wife, a promising son he was grooming to take over his business. Then a trip to Tokyo changed everything."

"I saw," Baekhyun says, voice quiet, fringing on private territory. Like this, up close, Kyungsoo struggles with wondering if Baekhyun is real substance, rosy cheeks beautiful under the glow of the facility's lights, the peak of his cap casting shadows over the sharp angles of his face and jaw. "There was another woman in your house. She wasn't your mom."

Kyungsoo images lifting the 'no entry' sign to his mind, voiding the protective barrier he's cast over his thoughts. He's only ever waivered this for two people - he told Jongin, all those years ago, and now, Baekhyun's found the answers himself. "I was born out of wedlock. I knew I'd never take over the family business, and honestly, that really didn't matter to me. I didn't want to run some medicinal empire."

"What..." Delicate as cotton, Baekhyun trails off, as if doubting the appropriateness of his question. He decides to ask anyway. "What did you want to do?"

Vivid images of stage lights and a sea of faceless people surfaces from the depths of Kyungsoo's mind, a smile coming to him unbidden. He hasn't let himself think about this in a long, long time. He's long since buried this fragment of hope, this beautiful dream, under the sandy, murky depths of his childhood. "I wanted to sing," he admits. "My father used to say real men don't dream, real men act. But I never got the chance to act, so dreaming was all I had."

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath, looks down at their intertwined hands. Baekhyun's fingers are just as beautiful as his face, long, slender digits that wrap themselves in perfect curves around Kyungsoo's shorter, stubbier ones. "All my life, Baekhyun, I was told I'd never be more than a bastard child. I got the short end of the stick for everything. So in high school, I decided that maybe I'd prove to my family that I can be more than that."

The night air is frigid when it kisses Kyungsoo's face. "Is that when you and your... friend joined the programme?" Baekhyun asks, as if he needs to hear with his own ears to set his assumptions in stone.

"Jongin?" Kyungsoo glances up at the night sky, painfully aware that Baekhyun is still looking at him, still searching for something. "Yeah. He saved me, kind of. We joined the Academy together."

In his mind's eye, Kyungsoo can almost hear the pieces of his story, the finer nuances and details, clicking into place with the figments and flashes of his life that Baekhyun saw when they Drifted. The conversation dies off, Baekhyun digesting everything he's been told, Kyungsoo coming to terms with the fact that he'd just laid out his past in a detailed blueprint to a person he hasn't even known for a week. He doesn't feel as surprised or as disappointed in his boundaries as he expected to be, though. It feels natural, telling Baekhyun everything, as if it's something that should happen as much as the sun should rise tomorrow.

Baekhyun turns to him then, the corners of his mouth pulling upward, slowly but surely, into a full-fledged, brilliant smile. Almost too abruptly, it feels like night has faded away, as if they'd spent hours talking and time has eased itself into a new day without them knowing. Baekhyun's smile is almost too bright to look at, glowing softly and blazing fiercely all at the same time, like a replica of the sun has decided to take a detour on earth, substantially smaller in size but no less radiant. Kyungsoo tightens his grip on Baekhyun's fingers almost reflexively, searching for any kind of leverage.

He looks dazzling, more so than any bridge or machine in the world.

"And now you saved me," Baekhyun says, renewed determination in his voice. A whimper nearly escapes Kyungsoo when Baekhyun disentangles their fingers, eyes half-concealed behind his fringe of black hair again, but smiling mouth in complete view. He misses the warmth of skin against skin already. "So let's start over," Baekhyun proposes, lifting a hand between them. "Byun Baekhyun."

When their fingers meet this time, the touch is electric. Small jolts flow through Kyungsoo's bloodstream, slamming home in his chest, impulses that make the heart beat faster. "Do Kyungsoo."

That night, Kyungsoo spends his final hours in trainee accommodation. He falls asleep with the lingering warmth of Baekhyun's fingertips on the back of his hand, the memory of Baekhyun's voice lulling him to sleep, and the image of Baekhyun's smiling face on the back of his eyelids, prominent among the sea of people who watch him as he sings.

If there's one thing that sets pilot accommodation apart from Kyungsoo's quarters back in the trainee wing, it's the bunk bed pressed against the wall. Twin-sized, just big enough for one person to sleep on, plain white sheets folded neatly at the foot of both mattresses. Other than that, it's really not much different from Kyungsoo's old room. Granted, it's slightly bigger, to make space for two grown men, but there's still only one closet and one bathroom.

A blunt, heavy object knocks Kyungsoo in the back of his knees. "So, top bunk or lower bunk?" Baekhyun asks, swinging his backpack around, eyes raking the room from where they both stand in the doorway. The door to his room - no, their room - is four inches of reinforced metal, built to withstand the hottest of fires and the coldest of drafts. The safety of pilots, after all, is of utmost priority in every base should security be breached.

"You can choose. I'll take whatever's left," Kyungsoo answers. Baekhyun makes his decision for him by ducking into the lower bed, back falling onto the hard mattress, grinning as he watches Kyungsoo toss his his duffel bag onto the top bunk.

Smiling seems to come easier to Baekhyun now, lighting up every inch of his face, from the crinkling of his eyes into tiny, curved crescents to the flash of his white teeth, framed by thin, pretty lips. Baekhyun had waited for him at the elevator of the trainee wing this morning, face in full view, 'good morning' written in the small grin toying with the edges of his lips. They'd scarcely spoken, but the silence between them isn't fraught with tension anymore. It's comfortable, easy, like second nature.

The bed dips beneath Kyungsoo's weight as he settles on the edge of the mattress. Baekhyun has his eyes closed, jet black hair fanning out in all directions against the off-white of the pillowcase. Everything about Baekhyun looks as if it's been made of porcelain, pale and beautiful and delicate. His eyelashes are long and curved, the very tips ghosting against his skin. The rise and fall of his chest is in small, steady measures. It feels like time would stop any minute, if only to preserve these tiny moments and details.

Very slowly, Baekhyun's eyelids part to reveal gray irises, staring right into Kyungsoo's brown ones, into his very soul. "What do you want to do now?" Kyungsoo asks, soft as a whisper, as if speaking any louder would cause the peace of the moment to shatter and slip away between his fingers like sand.

"Nothing." Baekhyun sits up, right knee brushing against Kyungsoo's thigh, fingers resting lightly on the sheets, far too close to Kyungsoo's own hand. Every single movement he makes is both distracting and gentle in equal parts. "Staying here sounds good."

"You know we can't. We have to train during the day." Kyungsoo's voice trails off into nothing more than a murmur, gaze travelling up to meet Baekhyun's. The idea is all too tempting, just whiling the day away here in their own personal chamber, behind fortified walls and a door of steel, where nothing can touch them, where nothing can interrupt th—

An alarm blares through the room, loud and urgent. A black screen attached to the wall furthest from them lights up with a three-dimensional sketch of what seems to be a cross between a snail and a lizard, urging them on their feet every time the image blinked at them.

Their shared room is the nearest to the Drivesuit rooms, barely a three-minute walk away, two, if they were to sprint. Baekhyun opts for a brisk walk, rounding the corners and dashing along the straight corridors, like he's learnt them by heart. Somewhere past the Miracle Mile, rearing its ugly head above the waters of the ocean, is a kaijuu ready for destruction, yet despite all this, Kyungsoo can't help the small smile on his face, the skip of his heartbeat.

Next to him, Baekhyun's every step resounds with resolution, a newfound purpose. He's ready to fight, to defend, and not just because someone sent him here. Kyungsoo knows.

The four minutes in the Drivesuit room, and what could possibly have been another three as they make their way to the doors of Nova Hyperion's Conn-Pod, pass by in a blur. "You ready?" Kyungsoo asks, as they begin their drop. It's approximately thirty seconds to impact, per regulations, but time seems to slow as he waits for Baekhyun's answer. He can wait. He'd always wait, he realises.

"If you are."

Kyungsoo can barely make out the features of Baekhyun's face under the relay gel in their helmets, but there's a smile in his voice and a promise in his words. We are the perfect drift, echoes in his head, we'll be ready if we have each other.

He doesn't fight when he feels the familiar presence of Baekhyun's mind pressing against his, moulding into one, long yellow tendrils intertwining with his blue ones in a coil tighter than any alpha helix. The neural handshake registers stronger than ever, and Kyungsoo can feel the air prickling against Baekhyun's skin as if it were his own.

People always said that Junmyeon is the picture of calm, even during complex missions with multiple Jaegers, but Kyungsoo never completely bought that till today. "Good afternoon, Nova Hyperion. We have a big guy, a Category 3 about ten kilometres past Miracle Mile, codename Ossyria. No civilian vessels in sight, so you've got a clear battle radius, guys."

A pause, the sound of Junmyeon's fingers working fast at a keyboard, and then a new voice speaks, deep and velvety. "This is Marshall Wu Yifan on deck. Your orders are to eliminate Ossyria well off the mile and come home safe. Be prepared for your debut, gentlemen."

Baekhyun's eyes are hard and determined beneath his helmet. He nods at Kyungsoo and pushes the intercom button, calm and prepared, not betraying even the smallest hint of the fire Kyungsoo can feel burning wild in them both. "Nova Hyperion, ready for deployment, sir."

The world is dull blue through the eyes of their Jaeger, small dots of red, yellow and white depicting human heat signals as technicians work to part the metal doors of their loading bay. Kyungsoo can feel the entire body of the machine being slid forward, then lifted into the air, undoubtedly by helicarriers transporting them to the coordinates of the kaijuu signal.

"Let's do this!" they yell collectively, as the mechanical hooks clamping on to their Nova Hyperion's shoulders disappear. Gravity takes over, pulling the machine hard to the base of the ocean, and Kyungsoo can feel the massive force in his knees as he bends to absorb the shock. He knows Baekhyun feels it too, gritting his teeth at the pressure.

Drifting not only connects pilot to pilot, but pilots to their machine, one to each of the left and right hemispheres. Injuries sustained by the Jaegers feel like direct blows to the pilot themselves - that is the price they all have to pay to control hundred-tonne robots and defend their city population.

Ossyria lets out a feral roar, blue liquid dripping off its outstretched tongue, contaminating the sloshing waters parting around its lower body.

As one, they lurch towards the creature, arms wrapping around the kaijuu's extended neck, squeezing it in an airtight headlock. Ossyria rears its ugly head, its short, stumpy limbs groping at Nova Hyperion's legs. "Keep the grip!" Baekhyun yells over the noise, voice only barely audible over the kaijuu's roaring and the Jaeger A.I. confirming neural inputs and commands. He's really only yelling on instinct, partly also for convenience on LOCCENT's end, because Kyungsoo's already one step ahead, already knows what he's going to do even before Baekhyun's body reacts to his thoughts.

Ossyria is, however, two steps ahead, its great whip of a tongue lashing out and connecting with Nova Hyperion's left arm with a crack as loud as thunder. Baekhyun cries out loud, clutching at his arm and bent over, but they're given no time to breathe as the kaijuu hurls itself at them, slimy underbelly sticking to the front of the Jaeger. LOCCENT checks in on them, the Marshall's voice up several notches in volume. "Nova, what's going on out there?!"

Baekhyun curses under his breath and regains his balance. "Shit, we forgot the grip! Get a hold of him! I'll finish him off!" Nova Hyperion's right hand is down, pressed immobile at an awkward angle down its side, but Baekhyun frees the left hemisphere and delivers a hard punch to Ossyria's jaw, sending it howling backwards into the sea.

"Let's go out with a bang," Kyungsoo says, sporting a grin identical to Baekhyun's as they boot up their Plasmacaster. The instant plasma cannon, 100% sounds through the Conn-Pod in the same robotic, female A.I. voice, the end of Nova's right arm turns a bright orange, then a blinding white, and finally a fearsome blue. A nuclear-powered laser empties Ossyria's guts. It collapses into the sea, and wails no more.

They're both still in offensive positions, braced and ready for the kaijuu to leap out at them from the depths of the ocean with renewed fury, but it never comes. The Miracle Mile is secure. It's Nova Hyperion's first win, Kyungsoo realises, their first win, and the thought only makes his smile grow wider, his body throbbing with excitement.

Baekhyun remembers the intercom first. Even the formality of his words does little to mask the thrill of adrenaline in his voice. "One shot fired at approximately eight kilometres off the Mile, sir. Ossyria is down. I repeat, Ossyria is down."

"Good job, Nova. Now come home," the Marshall says, and even through the communication systems, through his slightly accented Korean, Kyungsoo can hear the relief in his voice. The whole lot of them at mission control must have been worried sick, he realises; newbie pilots in a Jaeger that hasn't even been taken on a proper test run out in the waters yet, but they'd made it. Together.

The welcome at Seoul HQ is nothing short of phenomenal. Kyungsoo can't see anything except a crowd of bodies cheering enthusiastically, filling the main chamber of the Shatterdome as far as the eye can see. Above him, the clock displaying the time till the next predicted kaijuu attack is reset, bright orange digits on a big black screen, and it reminds Kyungsoo of the colour of the plasma cannon during the first stage of deployment.

He inclines his head in acknowledgment when he sees Liyin, waving gingerly at him, while Jongdae hovers protectively next to her, sending a two thumbs up his way with a brilliant smile on his face. He means to turn to grin at Baekhyun, to steal him for three seconds, maybe five, if Lady Luck is on his side, to smile at him and yell, "We did it!", but Jongin comes hurtling out of the crowd and envelops him in a fierce hug. "I'm so glad you're home safe, hyung."

Of course, silly and What, did you think I was going down on my first mission out? all lump together in Kyungsoo's throat when he sees the look on Jongin's face, washed over with relief, but there are still bits and pieces of what looks like jealousy, sadness, even.

"Are you o—" The question is left hanging, though, because Chanyeol pulls him into a messy headlock that has the crowd laughing even louder than they were, and by the time Kyungsoo wrenches himself free, Jongin is nowhere to be found.

Seoul HQ is still buzzing with activity late into the night, what with LOCCENT sending out contamination control teams to contain Ossyria's blood within as small a radius as possible and to prevent it from seeping past the Miracle Mile into Incheon's waters. As he steps into the elevator, Kyungsoo can hear the heavy footsteps of the K-Science entourage leaving the wing, undoubtedly making their way to the scene to harvest the kaijuu organs for their research and development division.

He'd lost Baekhyun during the brief celebration earlier, having been dragged off into a conversation with a very chirpy Chanyeol and an ecstatic Junmyeon. Kyungsoo's gut feeling is telling him Baekhyun's perfectly fine, but it'd still be nice to hear it from Baekhyun himself, if only to stop the frantic tugging at his heartstrings.

By the time he reaches their room, greets the passing Drivesuit technicians who congratulate him on his first kill and slides the lock into place behind him, Baekhyun's already changed out of his circuitry suit and into a fresh set of clothes, a gray shirt that matches his eyes and soft white pants to go with the gentle expression on his face.

The silence hangs thin between them. Baekhyun brushes the web of quiet away, happiness and disbelief in his every word, almost as if this is all a dream and they'd both wake up, still in the middle of the battle and fighting for their lives. As they say, first impressions last the longest, and Kyungsoo's pretty sure this applies to first victories and the ensuing surreality as well. "We did it. We bagged our first kill," Baekhyun says, scooting aside to make space for Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo nods in agreement, toying with the hem of his shirt, but the bandage wrapped tightly around Baekhyun's upper forearm is too distracting to ignore. He runs his fingers over the seams where the tape meets, careful not to put any pressure on it. Baekhyun's breath hitches audibly under the touch, muscles tensing ever so slightly. "Are you okay, though? Does it hurt still?"

"It never really hurt to begin with. But the medics insisted, so, yeah," Baekhyun trails off into a soft chuckle, a sound Kyungsoo decides he'd like to keep in a bottle to listen to. It's whispery and sharp all at the same time, but it's so distinctly Baekhyun, a sweet kind of burning on his skin.

Every inch between them suddenly feels like mere millimetres when Baekhyun shifts to face him, pressing close as he slips a tentative hand into Kyungsoo's hair, watching dark brown fan over his long fingers. Baekhyun's palm is surprisingly cool and steady against Kyungsoo's scalp, unlike his breathing, warm and erratic and too prominent in this room, where they're all alone, where Kyungsoo's more than susceptible to the small voice in his head and the warmth in his body, telling him to close the gap and take that leap of faith.

"Thank you for asking," Baekhyun whispers, gaze dropping from Kyungsoo's hair to his eyes, lingering briefly on his lips, then down to his clasped hands. "I'll be okay."

Kyungsoo knows the door is locked, but he can't help thinking about how much talk this would garner if anybody were to see them. Two boys, partnered pilots, no less, so close to each other, touching each other so intimately like this, but he can't bring himself to pull away, and neither does he want to. It's not because Baekhyun looks so dazzling even under the dim light of their room, not because he's hot and cold all at the same time and the sensations are pushing Kyungsoo closer and closer to the edge they've been skirting. He hasn't even known Baekhyun for a week, but he feels like they've bridged all the years they've spent apart. The way they fit and the way they are - everything feels right, like an unexplainable mathematical certainty.

He's suddenly aware of a cool trail trickling down the side of his face, and for a moment, he wonders if it's blood, or cold sweat. Kyungsoo's heart nearly falls out of his chest when he realises Baekhyun's slender fingers are smoothing out the curves in his face, bumping against his cheekbone gently. He leans in, craving for more, marvelling in the way Baekhyun's fingers bend to accommodate the angles of his jaw.

"Goodnight, Kyungsoo," Baekhyun breathes, and all that's left when he eases himself under the covers and turns away from Kyungsoo is the ghost of his touch, the lingering warmth in his voice.

His name has never sounded more entrancing, syllables rolling smoothly off Baekhyun's tongue. Kyungsoo wonders how much more beautiful it could be, if Baekhyun whispered his name into his skin, murmured it into his hair.

Only when he's changed and safely nestled under his own blankets does Kyungsoo whisper a reply into his pillow. "Goodnight, Baekhyun." Kyungsoo falls asleep worrying if the pounding of his heart would wake Baekhyun up.

Time becomes more of an abstract concept than a relative theory as the months go by.

Kyungsoo's days are spent in Jaeger training, honing his reflexes and testing prototype Jaeger weapons. Baekhyun's unorthodox style of sparring makes him the perfect training partner, unusual strokes and an erratic rhythm that only Baekhyun himself seems to be able to keep in check.

Most times, they're surrounded by good company - Jongdae has been appointed temporary Kwoon Fightmaster, training the greenhorns that come through Seoul HQ's door and indulging in the occasional practice round with either Kyungsoo or Baekhyun, with whom he's come to develop a fast-moving friendship. They're almost always greeted by Liyin and Junmyeon whenever they get paged by J-Tech weaponry, prodigies that have put their heads together towards making core improvements to Nova's frame and equipped weapons.

Although word has been rife that a Mark 5 Jaeger is in the works Down Under, Nova Hyperion still remains the newest Jaeger in the business to date. Her gleaming metallic sheen, trimmed with gold befitting a machine as agile and majestic as she is, has been a bane to any kaijuu that dares to try a hand at taking the coastline, a saviour to the citizens of South Korea and East Asia. 13 drops, 13 kills over the span of a few months - too often, if regular standards are anything to go by; the interval between kaijuu attacks are getting increasingly small. But every single time, Baekhyun and Kyungsoo make it home safe, make it home together, and every single time, Baekhyun smiles just that much more, responding to the greetings and congratulations from the crowd and their friends. Kyungsoo still remembers how stunned Minseok and Chanyeol had been when Baekhyun had first smiled at them, small and shy, but progress, nonetheless.

No matter how much Baekhyun opens up, though, Kyungsoo knows it's nothing like the bond they share, all the nights spent stealing glances at each other and watching each other like they're creatures of intrigue instead of normal flesh and blood. It makes him feel proud, somewhat, to know that he has a small part of Baekhyun all to himself, a side that he doesn't intend sharing with anyone else. It feels like they're laying themselves bare to each other, opening all their doors for the other to explore, tearing down the fencing between two houses.

Sometimes, Kyungsoo pretends to be reading while he observes Baekhyun milling around the room, changing his clothes, stretching, tending to his small injuries. The top bunk is a blessedly good vantage point. Baekhyun's dark gaze is no more inconspicuous than Kyungsoo's, a soft kind of presence that follows him everywhere but doesn't ever intrude.

Kyungsoo's not sure how much longer they can teeter around the edge of this cliff, lest one pushes the other over, or they both fall off. They live dangerous lives, after all.

Months feel like days, days like minutes, passing in a haze of battling and training and sleepless nights and attempting to comprehend the something festering in his chest, a twining tendril that coils its way around Kyungsoo's heart with ease, urging it to pump faster, rendering him short of breath. It's almost always there, lying dormant beneath his skin and waiting in its body, but Baekhyun pressing close, Baekhyun's rich, velvety voice, Baekhyun's eyes on him, Baekhyun, Baekhyun, Baekhyun, always sets it off, sending the best kinds of electric jolts racing down his spine. It's not an unpleasant sensation, and Kyungsoo finds himself coming back for more.

"What are you doing here alone?" The voice comes so suddenly out the silence that it takes all of Kyungsoo's restraint not to jump out of his skin. He's not falling (not really, not physically), but he reaches out to grab the central control display by reflex to steady himself, spinning around so abruptly that a soft blade of night air stings his cheeks.

The doors of the Conn-Pod slide shut behind Baekhyun, the shuffle barely audible even in the pin-drop silence of the chamber. Even when he was still in high school, before he'd joined the Jaeger programme, he's always had a small interest in engineering and mechanics, mesmerised by the seamlessness of modern technology. He often wonders, even to this day, how a loud, rambunctious species like mankind has managed to develop technology like this at all, perfect, faultless, powerful, dethroning the forces of nature.

He should be putting more thought into this, into the workings of science and the law of the world, not the forces of attraction, not the deceptive art of the human mind, not the way Baekhyun is closing the distance between them in quick strides, black sneakers soundless against the floor of the Conn-Pod. The way his black jacket is wrapped snugly over his broad shoulders, the collar of his white round-necked tee resting just below his collarbones, the dark jeans bringing out every curve in his legs - Baekhyun is the image of perfection, sinful to the last hair on his head.

Kyungsoo swallows. Whoever said angels only belonged in white or on the bright side clearly needs to reevaluate their judgment. "Just looking at our Jaeger," he says, trying not to wince at the shakiness of his voice. Conn-Pods are usually stationed at the very top of the loading bay, to prepare for a drop whenever needed, but not right after maintenance, especially when it's just past dinner time. In circumstances like this, the chamber would be parked on a platform in the middle of the deployment railing, just high enough to get a stellar view of the body of the Jaeger. The word our is pleasantly sweet on his tongue.

"Hm," Baekhyun hums in acknowledgment, keeping his eyes on Kyungsoo as he walks up to the circular front of the Conn-Pod, an entire piece of reinforced glass moulded in a perfect oval curve. Science says the impulses in the brain control movements in the body, but that's very much up for dispute now, especially since his feet seem more inclined to listen to his noisily persistent heart than the wise counsel of his head. You want this, you want to follow him, you want him.

Baekhyun keeps his eyes on Kyungsoo as he presses a hand against the glass. "Beautiful, don't you agree?" he asks.

It's a perfectly innocent question spun out of proportion and context by the sultry drawl of Baekhyun's voice, intoxicating poison and sweet antidote all at the same time, confusing and tempting and just so right. Kyungsoo would like to think he's referring to Nova Hyperion, standing tall and proud in the centre of the loading bay on her launcher, a stunning creation unlike any other. But Baekhyun hasn't once spared a glance at the Jaeger since he'd first stepped into the Conn-Pod, and Kyungsoo isn't sure if he wants to jump the gun on this one, to open the unlocked door Baekhyun has left for him.

His answer comes out thick and stuttered. "She's a real beauty, yeah."

He could run. He could run now, make a bolt for the door and punch the button and fling himself out of the Conn-Pod. He could do that, and he should, but Baekhyun's piercing gray eyes hold him in place, rendering him as immobile as a stone carving. "What do you see?" Baekhyun asks, and Kyungsoo's gaze flickers to his fingers, spread slightly open, as if waiting for someone to fill in the gaps, pads pressed lightly against the cold glass for anchorage. He repeats the question, enunciating each word, as if making sure he's not asking the wrong thing. "When you look at Nova Hyperion, what do you see?"

Engineering marvel, saviour of mankind, my dream come true, a machine to call my own, most advanced of her kind - this and many, many more surface at the back of Kyungsoo's mind, but only as prominent as faded accompanying music. Unbidden, the answer springs to his lips. He's not sure if it's the reply Baekhyun wants to hear, or if it's right or wrong. What he does know is that it's the first thing to come to his mind, the loudest of the first violins in the orchestra of voices in his head. It's the truth.

"You," Kyungsoo whispers. "I see you. It reminds me of you."

Soft breathing flutters against his cheek, and it feels like the flit of a butterfly's wings, the touch of silk, the smooth blackness of the night. "And what," Baekhyun's hand finds a new resting spot on the nape of Kyungsoo's neck, "do you think about when you think of me?" His fingertips are only touching Kyungsoo's skin, not even applying the slightest pressure, but it's suffocating, a sensation akin to asphyxiation. Kyungsoo is still afraid to open his mouth and speak, for fear of his lungs giving up on him, for fear of divulging the dark, dark truth.

It used to be curiosity. An innocent, piqued interest in the way Baekhyun carried himself, a want to find out more about his motivations and who made him what he was. They'd already established such a strong connection in the Drift, and they still had occasional incidences of Ghost-Drifting, but there are bound to be things Baekhyun has shut away as emotional baggage. There's always a gray spot amidst the black-and-white solidness of headspace, and Kyungsoo's been eager to know why for a long time now.

Then, it blossomed into what Kyungsoo can only call attraction. It didn't matter what Baekhyun was doing - pushing his body to its limits during their sparring sessions, pulling his shirt over his head, dozing off on his bed on nights where he's particularly tired - Kyungsoo felt inexplicably drawn to him, as if Baekhyun's cast a rope around his waist and is reeling him in without even trying.

Now, he's falling into a hopeless spiral, a dark tunnel with no end and no beginning, no indication of up and down, even. When he emerges from the shower to see Baekhyun sound asleep, long, elegant limbs splayed out over the mattress, mouth parted slightly, all he wants to do is press their lips together, steal all of the little sounds Baekhyun makes. Sometimes, he catches Baekhyun watching him, and it's nothing new, nothing Baekhyun hasn't been doing for months, but now, it ignites a low burn in the base of Kyungsoo's stomach, and he wants nothing more than to push Baekhyun up against the wall and fuck him raw, turn his intuitive gaze into begging eyes, smart, veiled remarks into desperate pleas and calls of Kyungsoo's name. It's dark, it's filthy, it's so, so tempting, and Kyungsoo's been jolted awake in the middle of the night more than once, dreaming of Baekhyun's lips around his cock.

But other times, when Baekhyun sends his small, private smiles Kyungsoo's way, intertwining their hands briefly while wishing him good night, Kyungsoo feels the burning need to kiss him soft, sweet and slow, to push him back into the mattress and hold him secure in his arms and tell him he's good enough for them both. Honestly, Kyungsoo wouldn't mind doing that every day for the rest of his life.

Now, Kyungsoo isn't sure what that's supposed to mean.

"I don't know. You make me so confused, Baekhyun. You're everywhere and I want everything and I just— I don't know," is his honest, whispered reply, harsh tone rounded off at the edges, a gentle bite, of sorts, spilling clumsily like he's been holding it in forever.

Baekhyun is so close now, parted lips grazing against Kyungsoo's with every breath he takes, dark, seductive eyes peering up at Kyungsoo through beautiful lashes. It's too easy to tangle his fingers in Baekhyun's silky black hair, yanking at the roots, pulling him in, in, in, kissing him hard through teeth and tongue and driving them both off the edge. Baekhyun responds to the kiss with equal fervour, one hand fisted in the fabric of Kyungsoo's shirt and the other on the nape of his neck, keeping him in place, as if easing up on the pressure would cause them to wake up from this immoral dream.

Byun Baekhyun is the picture of sin when he pulls away, a trail of saliva hanging between their mouths, face as flushed as his eyes are clouded. If Kyungsoo's going to hell for sinning, he decides, as he watches Baekhyun drop to the floor, knees digging into the metal even through the thick fabric of his jeans, deft fingers working at the button of Kyungsoo's jeans, then so be it.

The cold air burns the bare skin of Kyungsoo's legs, pants and underwear pooling around his ankles as Baekhyun drags a hot, wet trail up the inside of his thigh, mouthing at the base of Kyungsoo's cock. The torture continues until Baekhyun's lips meet the head, moulding around it briefly, teasingly, before taking the entire length of Kyungsoo's shaft into the cavern of his mouth.

"O-Oh, fuck," Kyungsoo hisses furiously, head pressed back against the metal wall, fingers threading through Baekhyun's hair, pulling and demanding more through touch than the words failing to form in his head. The lines between sweet pain and sinful pleasure blur as one when Baekhyun presses the flat of his tongue up against Kyungsoo's heavy cock, pretty, swollen lips parted wide as he takes in more and more each time he bobs his head.

It isn't too long before Kyungsoo is thrusting into Baekhyun's mouth, hand holding his head firmly in place, Baekhyun's fingers pressing bruises into the pale skin of his waist. The frantic pace Baekhyun has adopted is sickeningly effective, cheeks hollowed around Kyungsoo's dick. His eyes flicker up to Kyungsoo's, watching him unravel even through the sheen of lust settling over his gray irises, undressing him and dissecting him down to the very last seam. When Baekhyun times himself to pull away to the very tip and surge forward at the same time as Kyungsoo angles just right, the head of his cock slams into the back of Baekhyun's throat, tearing a stuttering, loud moan from his lips and hiccuped cries of Baekhyun, Baekhyun, Baekhyun.

The Conn-Pod isn't all that silent anymore, pregnant with heavy panting and groaning and the sound of skin on skin. He realises then how bad this could be, how people could be reporting back to their stations anytime now. How many minutes had passed? How many hours? How anybody would react to this, to Baekhyun sucking him off in the Conn-Pod of their Jaeger, Kyungsoo thrusting obscenely into his mouth behind clear glass for all the world to see, is beyond him. How they could get caught—

The thought of somebody walking in on them should frighten him and make him stop and yank Baekhyun off him, but it only makes him thrust harder, faster, deeper, Baekhyun's lips coming all the way up to his balls. "Ah, Baekhyun, I'm— fuck—" He comes so hard, over and over again, he sees white fade into double before his colour spectrum slowly returns to normal, to familiar shades of blue and gray.

Baekhyun keeps his lips around Kyungsoo's dick a little longer, slowing his pace and sucking Kyungsoo to completion. When he finally lets go and stands up on shaky legs, Kyungsoo half-expects a rough, hard kiss, to make him feel the stretch of Baekhyun's red lips. Instead, Baekhyun presses feathery, light pecks to the column of his neck, the shell of his ear, the corner of his mouth. Their lips do meet halfway, but the contact isn't as wild or rushed as Kyungsoo would've thought it'd be; the kiss is slow, languid, easy, Baekhyun's tongue running along the roof of his mouth, urging Kyungsoo to taste himself. The marks on his hips are still bright red and angry, but Baekhyun runs smooth thumbs over them in circles, easing the dull throb.

Kyungsoo leaves the Conn-Pod first, dishevelled and dazed, Baekhyun's murmured, unanswered question hanging in the air behind him and ringing in his ears.

"Do you know now?"

Qingdao's distress call comes at an ungodly hour of the morning.

The loud blare of the siren jolts Kyungsoo awake in an instant, the display at the far end of the room coming to life under the dim lamplight. South Korea - no, the world - needs Nova Hyperion to defend its shores again. Pager alarms for cross-country missions are slightly different in its beat; it used to be no different from domestic alerts, but PPDC changed their policies about a decade ago. Even through the haze of sleepiness shrouding his mind, Kyungsoo registers the fact that this alarm is blaring louder, somehow, more urgent, more significant, and he's not sure if it's just a trick his subconscious is playing, or something else altogether.

For another country to page for help from neighbouring countries, though, this kaijuu must be a difficult one to beat, already engaging China's Jaeger and undoubtedly drawing too close for comfort to their Miracle Mile.

Emergency situations like this one awakens the whole of Seoul HQ from their slumber in mere moments. By now, the lights of the building and runway would already be on, technicians scrambling from their lodging to the loading bay to execute final preparations for the deployment of their Jaeger. Mission control would be analysing the category of the kaijuu and working a mission blueprint around the circumstances and geographical terrain. Decontamination teams and helicarrier pilots would be on standby, ready to take action where necessary.

None of the chaos carries into their brisk walk to the Drivesuit Room. The only sounds other than the constant blaring of the alarm drowning out their foosteps is their calm, even breathing, a basic warm-up technique for all pilots before a drop. The only company they have is each other.

A lump forms in Kyungsoo's throat when they step past the threshold of Nova Hyperion's Conn-Pod. It's been a week since he'd last been in here, since Baekhyun had pressed against him and kissed him and pushed him up against the glass, down on his knees and lips stretched around Kyungsoo's cock, but it could've been yesterday, earlier today, even, with the number of times Kyungsoo's watched the scene replay in his mind's eye, the number of times he's dreamt about it. The images and sensations are still too vivid, and even now, Kyungsoo feels an uncomfortable twitch down south thinking about it.

J-Tech maintains the temperature in Conn-Pods somewhere in the mid-twenty degrees, in accordance with scientific recommendation and also to accommodate the heat in their Drivesuit mechanism, but there's an unkindly chill in the chamber, cutting Kyungsoo open with careful, precise slashes that cause him to bleed his secrets and feelings, drop by drop, working his brain in slow, agonising ways.

"Hey," comes Baekhyun's voice, like a soft knock to the door of Kyungsoo's mind, even though he knows it's been left open. It reminds Kyungsoo of the night they first spoke to each other, out on the observatory platform, how Baekhyun had seemed even gentler and even more beautiful than the moon, gleaming down at them, watching over them. "Don't worry, okay? We'll be safe. We'll be okay."

What are you saying, Baekhyun? lingers on the seam of Kyungsoo's lips, walking the curve, threatening to lose balance and fall out should he open them. He isn't sure why they need the assurance now, and he isn't sure what it is that they'll be safe from, but this is the line of fire they've committed to walking on, a life of danger, of never being truly sheltered from the perils of the world. They risk their lives as the first and only line of defence against mutated alien creatures, fighting to sustain entire populations, people who only know them by name and by face. Widespread attention and the mass media spotlight are part of the reason why Kyungsoo and Baekhyun have always politely turned down requests to have them appear on interviews or talk shows.

The spoken word has never been his forte, and he's never really needed it. His parents didn't care, Jongin doesn't pry, and now, Baekhyun doesn't need to ask. As they begin their drop, Kyungsoo realises he really doesn't care about the media and he can do without the public's eye. All he wants is for them to come home. Together.

Before he can stop himself, he calls Baekhyun's name in gentle tones. Sudden courage throbs with every beat of his heart, thrumming in his veins, intensifying when Baekhyun turns to look at him, almost too quickly, as if he'd been waiting. The orange relay gel in his helmet dulls the beautiful gray shade of his eyes, but they do next to nothing to mask the hints of expectation on his face. "Yeah?"

Words have never been their preferred medium of communication, not between them. All they needed was the brush of hands, the briefest of glances, the smallest change in body language to know what the other was thinking. Baekhyun has always had an uncanny way of telling Kyungsoo things - minute, almost unnoticeable shivers when he's cold, a soft smile when he's warm, a tug on Kyungsoo's wrist when he's hungry and it's past time for them to adjourn to the cafeteria and have dinner with everyone else.

But this, this is different, today is different, and Baekhyun looks like he's prepared to wait forever to hear the words Kyungsoo has to say.

Kyungsoo has no idea what his follow-up statement is supposed to be. He hadn't even been planning on calling Baekhyun's name. You're right. We'll be okay. Actually, you know what? I think I might be in love with you.

"I... We'll be okay, Baek. I know we will. We can do this," he says instead, thin sheen of resolve settling over his words like drying paint.

They've barely spoken since their tryst in the Conn-Pod a week past, barely even made physical contact with each other save when they needed to during training, to avoid raising suspicions. Even so, the unspoken promise of we have to come home so I can tell you what I wanted to say, wait for me, be with me, do this with me floats in the air between them, more than enough to bridge the silence they've been keeping for seven days too long, now.

Fifteen seconds till a successful drop, by Kyungsoo's reckoning; the Conn-Pod has just zoomed past the the Zone C marker in the loading bay. Baekhyun reaches up to remove his helmet, then, eyes unfocused, as if he's being guided by impulse and his heart, rather than logic and his head. "Wha—" Kyungsoo begins, but the words wither away on his tongue when Baekhyun pulls his helmet off too, pressing a gloved hand to his cheek. The synthetic material is plastic and hard against Kyungsoo's skin, but he can feel the warmth of Baekhyun's fingertips radiating through it.

Ten seconds till LOCCENT gets a visual of them.

The small distance between them decreases swiftly, disappears when Baekhyun fits his lips against Kyungsoo's parted ones, not deepening the kiss, just pressing lightly, lips warm and innocent and soft. Kyungsoo eyelids flutter involuntarily, one hand resting on Baekhyun's chest to balance himself, to convince himself that this is real, that Baekhyun is kissing him now, after a week of only watching him from afar.

Five seconds.

Baekhyun smiles at him then, bright and brilliant and beautiful in every sense of the word, a beacon of light in the darkness of the Conn-Pod. It makes Kyungsoo's heart shake with violent tremors, and it only fully hits him now how much he's missed this smile, the wide curve of Baekhyun's lips, kissed by the stars and the sun, lips Kyungsoo wouldn't mind making his own for now and for always. "I'll wait," Baekhyun whispers.

Kyungsoo doesn't even question how Baekhyun knows.

They are the perfect Drift. They will always know.

"A very early morning to you, Nova boys." Junmyeon's familiar voice calms the frantic beating of his heart. Later, Kyungsoo decides, and he knows Baekhyun can hear him, feel him, even if they haven't initiated the Drifting process yet. His breathing has begun to even out. He flashes one last, small smile at Baekhyun and fits the helmet on his head again. I'll tell him later. But now, we have other things to worry about.

Mild surprise registers on both Kyungsoo and Baekhyun's faces when deployment begins immediately after initiating their neural handshake and hemisphere calibration. There's a small tinge of hastiness in Junmyeon's voice, the soft taps of his fingers against buttons and screens audible even through the intercom. Only when they're in the air does Junmyeon debrief the situation for them. "Morning Star is currently still engaged with a kaijuu northwest of the Yellow Sea, codenamed Vega. It's a new one, Asia's first ever Category 4, so be careful."

Kyungsoo blinks. This isn't right. He remembers Chanyeol showing him the prediction algorithm he'd developed together with a few assigned members of the K-Science development division. Category 4's aren't supposed to show up till early next year, if existing patterns in the Breach are anything to go by.

"What is Morning Star's current condition?" Baekhyun's eyes are as sharp and focused as twin blades of cold, cold ice.

Discomfort is evident in Junmyeon's voice when he speaks again. In the background, Kyungsoo can hear the Marshall barking orders at another LOCCENT officer. "Morning Star is out cold. Last reports to Qingdao HQ stated that they've been hit by some kind of acid. Their electrical systems are fried. One of the pilots used to be in Tech Ops, so he knows how to manually jumpstart things, but it'll take time. They're not sure how long they can last on their own."

A loud beeping echoes in the background, and the helicarriers transporting Nova Hyperion begin to slow down. Far below, an ominous, glowing creature swims in circles around the foot of an unmoving Jaeger, polished crimson shell dull in the darkness.

"Nova, your mission is to distract and take down Vega. It's a new category altogether, so be wary. Qingdao HQ tells us Pilot Zhang has almost gotten their power back up. They will not be at a hundred percent, but they will come to your aid as soon as they can," the Marshall says curtly into the intercom, as composed as ever, as if no new alien anomaly has just surfaced on human shores. "Protect each other, Nova, and then come home. We're patching you over to Morning Star now."

Static fills the newly-opened communication channel, then a string of panicked words too fast for Kyungsoo to catch reaches their ears. Mandarin, he recognises; his tenure in Chinese classes had been brief, but enough for him to make out the language when he needs to. "Morning Star, do you copy?" he calls, enunciating every word loudly and clearly just in case. English is always the first language pilots should use in international team drops. "Morning Star, this is Nova Hyperion. We're from Seoul HQ and we're here to help you; do you copy?"

Merely walking on the ocean floor is taking a toll on them both; the waters are deeper and rougher here, pressing in on their legs in all directions. Kyungsoo grits his teeth and waits for a reply, while Baekhyun inputs commands for their Chain Sword. "Yes!" a harried male voice, slightly high-pitched and panting heavily, responds to his call. His English is recognisably Chinese-accented, but his words are still smooth and easy to make out. "We copy, Nova. Our systems will be up soon, we're still working on it!"

As one, Baekhyun raises his left hand, while Kyungsoo lowers his right for balance, Nova crouching in a side squat as she drives her blade directly into the body of the unsuspecting kaijuu, the sickening squelch of metal piercing straight through flesh loud and nauseating in Kyungsoo's ears. Vega's mighty roar is terrifying to the ears, and Kyungsoo wonders just how far the sound waves would travel. To Indonesia, perhaps, Malaysia, maybe even the residents of Australia.

The creature pulls back, wrenching itself free of the blade and barrelling towards them, the immobile carcass of Morning Star all but forgotten behind it. They move into a defensive position, arms crossed in front of them to withstand the force of impact when Vega collides with the body of their Jaeger. It's one of their favourites to use, because it transitions into offensive right after, when they use the weight of their midriff and upper torso to overwhelm the kaijuu when it reels back from the collision. Even Jongdae had expressed his approval once, when Kyungsoo and Baekhyun had demonstrated it to him in the combat rooms.

"Steady!" The air is knocked out of him the moment his lips wrap around the words, the force of impact so strong that it nearly knocks Nova Hyperion off its feet. Vega's mouth is a drooping pit of black, with a spotted tongue glowing bright cyan, as bright and blinding as a flourescent lamp. Baekhyun rams Nova's left arm against the kaijuu's bulging underbelly, but the blade bounces off the hard surface with scarcely a scratch, taut and tough as old, hardy leather.

Standing at its full height, Vega is a monster terrible to behold, possibly the most fearsome of the creatures they've ever had to face. Its eyes are almond-shaped slits, red and yellow and black, unfeeling depths that know nothing but destruction and fire. It's almost as tall as Nova herself, its mouth hovering at Kyungsoo's eye level, snapping its shapeless jaws at the head of the Conn-Pod, hoping to rip it off.

Both their arms are the only thing holding it at bay, but just as Kyungsoo's about to put power into the thrusters to force the kaijuu off, a searing pain runs through his legs and he collapses to the floor in a heap, sweat running down his forehead and blood on his tongue. He's screaming, but no sound registers in his ears, no sound louder than Vega's feral battlecry, the gaping abyss of its mouth disappearing from sight as their Jaeger falls down to one knee. From their position, Kyungsoo can make out the shape of a sharp, clawed whip of a tail attached to the kaijuu's scaled back, sailing through the air with the force of a tidal wave. Baekhyun intercepts it just in time with their Chain Sword, but the smooth blade shatters into a hundred pieces upon impact, shards of metal flying into the ocean waters, some embedding themselves in Nova's torso, her arms, her thigh.

"Fuck!" Baekhyun hisses, a jarring groan torn past his lips as his back collides with the sharp pillar connecting their Drivesuits to the neural interface of the Jaeger, the hard protrusion of metal digging into his back.

Kyungsoo grapples for footing, trying to lift himself to his feet, staggering as he holds on to the central control panel. He can still hear Morning Star's pilots scrambling to return power to their Jaeger, hasty shouting in Chinese, heavy footfalls, collision of steel on steel. "What the hell is going on out there, Nova? Report, I repeat, report your condition!" Marshall Wu barks over the intercom.

"We've taken a hit, sir!" Baekhyun chokes over his words, picking himself off the floor. "Core has been compromised, one limb is down!"

Vega is hurtling towards them, its short limbs moving with surprising agility, carrying its fat body across the ocean water at an alarming speed. "Light him up!" Kyungsoo screams, panting into his arm. "Light him up, Baek, the cannons, the cannons!"

Their Plasmacaster is up at record speed, Baekhyun grunting as he spins the dial to manually hasten cannon deployment. Mustering all his remaining energy, Kyungsoo lifts his right arm high in the air, repulsive force propelling his arm back as he watches the heated laser stream hit Vega right in the chest, burning a hole right through its torso and causing it to stumble backwards, crashing into the ocean with a splash so mighty, a torrent of seawater splashes against the glass of the Conn-Pod.

Kyungsoo gulps down fresh air, parched throat burning and filled with the coppery taste of blood, as he slumps backwards onto his supporting pillar. It's a new category of kaijuu altogether, so he shouldn't be surprised that it's bigger or more powerful, but what sends a chill down Kyungsoo's spine is that Vega - and possibly every other kaijuu of his category still lurking at the Breach - is smarter. It sees things, knows what's coming and can take preventive measures, unlike its predecessors.

They're evolving, he realises. Too fast, too dangerous.

Baekhyun reboots the communication system, patching them to both Morning Star and Seoul HQ LOCCENT. "One shot fired near the Mile; Vega is down," he manages between pants, gritting his teeth and bearing with the pain. Kyungsoo can see his Drivesuit has been sliced open near his right waist, red pooling in the slit and dripping down the white metal. "Injuries sustained, we request immediate medical assistance and a technician team."

No confirmation reaches them, only harsh static and frantic voices in the distance. Their communication panel had probably taken a blow during the battle, most of the damage sustained by the motherboard or main circuitry wires. Morning Star's channel doesn't seem to be connected at all; only dead silence greets Kyungsoo when he opens the connection. Junmyeon's voice is barely audible, scratchy over the intercom, words choppy and indistinct.

"Nova...! Not... signal... alive!"

"What?" Baekhyun yells into the receiver. "We can't hear you, LOCCENT, our communica—"

A pained howl cuts through the chaos in their damaged Conn-Pod, piercing and shrill and so, so pitiful, almost animalistic in nature. Kyungsoo feels himself being thrown back, pulled away from the wires connecting him to the Jaeger's neural interface, face connecting with the metal floor of the chamber. Cold air whips around his face, hauntingly chilling fingers pulling him this way and that, and he realises with a shudder there is a gaping, dark cavity between his and Baekhyun's hemispheres, a plunging valley tens of feet into the air that ended in the choppy waters of the sea.

The same clawed tail that he'd seen is pulsing right in front of him, corroding every piece of metal it came into contact with. Their Conn-Pod has been sliced cleanly in half, hanging to their respective hemispheres by threads of metal and wire.

The scream had been his.

Kyungsoo shrieks, again and again, so raw and loud that his throat feels like it's being torn apart from his neck. As if the raking of his fingers against his Drivesuit will be able to coax the pain spreading throughout his body, he claws at his chest, scrambling to his feet. Vega's maimed body stumbles into view where the Conn-Pod's reinforced glass wall should've been, pulsating and spewing disgusting trails of blood as it wrings their Jaeger apart.

Kyungsoo's head is a mess, images of who he was and who he is flashing through his head, the swirl of chaos that reminds somebody what life is just before death. His gloves are slick with sweat and blood, slipping against the edges of the control panel. There is a painful stab to his chest that has nothing to do with the kaijuu's limbs and tail tearing Nova Hyperion apart, piece by piece, weapon by weapon. It's a sensation as sweet as spring day, so soft and sad that his heart aches, splitting at the seams. Baekhyun's mind touches his, caressing the familiar shape and colour gently, already fuzzy around the edges. They're still connected by the Drift.

I'm sorry I never got to tell you.

He screams for salvation, screams for escape, screams for Baekhyun.

Darkness answers his prayers.

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