Chapter Text
Thump thump
Thump thump
Mark’s eyes snap open, only to be immediately blinded by the white light above him. He shields his eyes away with his hands, trying to return to the comfort of darkness from his unconsciousness. The rays of light fights it way through the cracks of emptiness to touch him, but Mark rejects it as he squeezes his eyes shut. The throbbing in his head continues to pound, an endless rhythm.
Thump thump
Thump thump
Thump -
Silence.
Mark slowly peels his hands away from his face, brushing his hair back. The once harsh white light now softly kisses his eyelids, illuminating it like a lamp shade. This time when Mark gradually opens his eyes he’s welcomed by the shining warmth of the sun on a bright blue canvas. The afternoon sky is free of clouds, yet littered with speckles of gray as birds sing and freely dance. A cool breeze against the now orange and yellow autumn leaves.
Mark is able to breathe again.
The nightmare was over. The same nightmare that plagued his mind for months now. Some days the bad dreams are crippling and tortuous, leaving Mark gasping for air, drenched in sweat, and haunted by the things he witnessed. Other days, and most rare, the dreams were less exhausting. He wasn’t hunted down and dragged across graveyards, but merely lost. Under the scarlet sky, in a field of dead flowers and wildfires, Mark stood hopelessly. Those dreams left him feeling hollowed out when he woke. A feeling of emptiness he’d carry until he was able to return back to his nightmares.
The only thing that remained a constant in his unconsciousness was…
“Lee Donghyuck.”
The name tickled his tongue and stirred his stomach, awakening the butterflies that rested, as he said it aloud.
The dark silhouette always appeared at some point in his dreams, whether to hold him, sit with him, or just watch him. In the darkest of dreams, when Mark had grown tired of running, Donghyuck would consume him into darkness, taking away Mark’s last breath. In the quietest of dreams, where Mark watched the sky burn and Donghyuck watched him for what felt like eternity until he accompanied Mark on the cold ground and Mark’s entire body began to be filled with warmth and he’d slowly wake.
Mark pulled at his hair, embarrassed by how pathetic he was. Face flushing over a faceless person that only existed in his dreams. A person, no, a being, who killed him in every nightmare. Yet, held him in the sweetest of dreams… The apparition never felt threatening. Even in death, Mark never feared him. Never despised him. Never blamed him.
No.
The shameful truth was, Mark longed for the moments when his dreams would come to a close and Mark knew he’d meet him then.
At the end of it all, he’d be there.
“Lee Donghyuck.”
Mark rubbed at his face, fingertips grazing at the dried and crusted blood at the corner of his forehead. A reminder of the incident that had occurred earlier that led to Mark’s meeting with Donghyuck.
The chime of a bell went off, loud and echoing all around him, the birds now soaring away. Mark stood, dusting off his slacks and fixing his emerald tie. Better to just be late and not dress coded for his mistreated uniform, Mark thought. Beginning the long descent from the rooftop. He’d spent his entire lunch hour sleeping off his concussion and no one would know.
No one would care.
That was the reality of having his gift.
No.
His curse.
When Mark was born, he didn’t cry. Throughout his childhood, he didn’t shed a single tear. His family was loving and caring, probably a bit too overprotective, but they weren’t to blame for his lack of tears. With each fall, every scrap of the knee, or broken bone, Mark never showed a single reaction to the pain.
What was pain?
To Mark, it wasn’t a feeling, but like a far away thought. His nervous system alerted him of the source of pain in his body and it was his power's job to fight against it and heal him. A power like that could be seen as a gift. A protector. To have his power flow through him and fix him, and yet, it left Mark feeling empty. He’d lay in the hospital bed, watching the white ceilings. Watching the shadows move clockwise along the walls, abandoning him once the sun meets the horizon. He was left alone. Waiting. To feel better. To feel whole. To feel anything.
Mark could heal himself, that was his power. Its only limitation is that it was only physically, never mentally.
From the countless doctor appointments that his parents had forced him to attend, his family was approached by an agency that was familiar with youths that had peculiar traits. They had slowly discovered a rare gene mutation that over that last decade impacted children. As a result, the government created an academy to house those children to protect them from outside sources from discovering them and using them to their advantage. Basically, kidnapping children to be slaves for other countries or the wealthy depending on their abilities.
Mark’s parents were reluctant to let him go, but Mark grew excited at the thought of meeting others like him. Meeting someone who could understand him. Meeting someone that could make him feel complete.
He was wrong.
The Academy was a beautiful campus located in the mountains. Surrounded by acres of land covered in enormous trees acting as an additional gate to the existing steel bars. There were a multitude of buildings, from dorms, academic halls, a hospital, a green house, and so much more. Some buildings Mark hadn’t even known what it held as they were restricted to students. The large size of the academy was necessary for holding students as young as four to as old as nineteen. Even those who had graduated still continued to remain on campus, taking on careers to further aid the upcoming students. Mark believed it was because outside of the school, people with such abilities had no place.
The curriculum for a school of peculiar children was no different from your average private boarding school, if you don’t include the students that could fly around the classrooms or run at the speed of light. The academy believed in raising its students as normally as possible. Which meant, they were just prisoners of an institution that didn’t want to expose to the world that such people existed.
It felt quite hopeless knowing that outside of this school, there really was nothing greater that could be achieved. They, the students, were given such amazing abilities but left to remain in hiding. Unaccepted by the world beyond the gates.
And even within the gates, Mark still was rejected.
Mark’s innocent hopes of belonging never came to exist. For someone like him, to heal was seen as a game.
Bullying was an everyday occurrence. His bullies had made a sport of who could get Mark to cry first. Taking each blow to the face or gut. Thrown across rooms and down stairwells. Attacked with not only mortal strength, but mutated abilities. Leaving him with shattered bones and concussions. But never any scars, no matter how much they tried. Regardless of how much they hurt him, Mark never cried. He couldn’t.
He felt nothing at all. Not a single ounce of pain. Yet, all Mark longed for was to feel it all. To cry. To feel the pain. To know it was real.
But he never did.
Mark sighed as he dropped the cleaning supplies in the closet, concluding his punishment for being late to his class. If he rushed now, he could make it for the last twenty minutes of dinner where his two, and only, friends would be waiting for him. .
Hendery and Xiaojun were a strange duo, and Mark meant that in the kindest way possible. They were odd, not because they bickered more than an old married couple, not because they found the lamest of jokes entertaining, and not because Hendery had the ability to shapeshift into any animal, almost always a donkey because it made Xiaojun laugh, and Xiaojun with his ability for his body to stretch like elastic, a power primarily used to trip Hendery from far away.
They were odd because they wanted to be Mark’s friends.
As selfless Mark wished he could remain being the bullied loner, he didn’t want to return to the past. He selfishly enjoyed having people by his side. Friends that would stick by him, defend him, and laugh with him. That never saw his ability as a fault. Hypocritically, they saw Mark not how he himself viewed him. Hendery and Xiaojun made this shitty school and overall fucked up world more tolerable to live in. They were amazing friends. True friends, based on the theory that Mark couldn’t really remember how they’d become friends. It was just always the three of them. Another friend would’ve been nice, solely so Mark didn’t always feel like a third wheel and had a roommate in his dorm, but Mark couldn’t complain further.
Mark entered the bathroom, pulling up his sleeves to reveal his pale skin covered in dust and chemicals. He washed his hands delicately, lathering on multiple pumps of foaming soap, removing any trace of imperfection. Of anything that didn’t belong to him. Shaking away drips of water from his hands he finally allowed himself to look up.
His blonde hair messily tossed around and long enough to tickle the back of his neck. The blonde was encouraged by Xiaojun who went with a light pink dye. Mark’s cheeks were hollow, although a normal feature of his face. It was his eyes that Mark traced with his dampened hands. His under eyes dark from the lack of sleep, and when Mark allows his powers to flow through him, the darkness stands out more as his eyes begin to illuminate.
With every ability, everyone's eyes would illuminate differently when using it. Xiaojun’s eyes matched his new hair color and Hendery’s a forest green. Mark’s eyes were a glowing silver, almost white depending on how much power he harnessed.
His self hatred on not only his gift, but his overall image of himself, resulted in Mark avoiding mirrors as much as he could. He didn’t want to face the person in the mirror. The person staring back at him never felt right. He never felt connected to his reflection. Mark himself felt like he wasn’t real. Like the person he was looking at didn’t exist.
He turned the running water off, shaking his hands as he moved to exit the bathroom, now left with fifteen minutes before dinner was over, when the door handle in front of him turned and Mark was thrown back before he could catch a glimpse of the culprit. His back hit the bathroom window, creating a crack that ran up from the impact. He landed on all fours, trying to gather himself when he was dragged up from his neck. The hand, no, the claws around his throat dig into his skin and blood runs down Mark’s chest, seeping into his uniform, staining his white undershirt red. It’s as Mark clutches the claws around his throat as he’s lifted in the air that he meets animalistic orange eyes.
The boy in front of him breathes heavily, his behavior not only a mimic of an animal, but his appearance as well. He was a hybrid. Those with powers that mirror an animal. Where Hendery could shapeshift into any animal, hybrids could morph features into a specific animal. The one who held Mark now was unfortunately and dangerously a tiger. His face stripped with large fangs drooling from his now large mouth. Teeth that lashed at him as Mark shook from his hold.
“I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!” The boy screamed at him as his claws scratched up Mark’s neck, making his way to Mark’s face. “YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME! I’LL KILL YOU!”
Threats but not empty. He spat out the words with such venom, holding such a grudge against Mark. Yet, Mark had no idea who this boy was. Even without the animal-like features, Mark had never met him before.
With much force, Mark was thrown down onto the ground. His hand hitting the floor that Mark wasn’t sure if the crack he heard was the cement below or his skull. The throbbing in his head confused Mark even more.
The boy climbed on top of Mark, ready to devour him. To maul him like prey.
“YOU DESERVE THIS! MONSTER! KILLER!” The boy growled.
And Mark accepted his fate. What could he do but accept the reality of his predicament. Maybe he did deserve this. Maybe he was a monster. Maybe he was a killer. He had no memory of doing any of the accused, but how was he to argue? His fate had already been decided for him.
So he welcomed the inevitable attack, knowing his powers could save him from death.
Closing his eyes and then -
Nothing.
Mark heard struggling and more yelling, but from other voices. Voices he recognized. Hands slowly lifting him, his head lightly resting against the bathroom wall.
“Mark! Can you hear me?” A panicked voice called out to him. “Mark!”
“ Mark.”
Donghyuck?
Mark’s eyes flew open and met with teary eyes that glowed like freshly bloomed cherry blossoms.
“Oh god Mark, you fucking scared me!” Xiaojun whined.
Behind Xiaojun, Mark could see Hendery and one of the teachers trying to pull away at the boy who still lashed out against him.
“HE’S A KILLER!” His voice boomed over Xiaojun’s concerned question of if Mark was okay. “I NEED TO KILL HIM!”
“Xiaojun!” Hendery called over to the pink haired boy that was analyzing Mark’s wounds. “We need your help!”
Xiaojun hesitated as he looked from Mark to Hendery and back to Mark. He could only imagine how awful he looked if Xiaojun almost forgot that Mark would be okay. That he’d heal.
“Xiaojun!” Hnedery yelled once more.
“We’ll be back, Mark. You take care, okay?” Xiaojun voiced his concern once more before he was out the bathroom door with the rest of the chaos.
It was as the bathroom door closed slowly that Mark heard the last of the boy’s fight.
“KILLER! KILLER! KILL-”
Silence.
Mark was left alone in a puddle of his own blood and his own thoughts.
You see, the reality of having friends is that there is always this continuous fear of becoming a burden. At least in Mark’s case.
He knew that Hendery and Xiaojun knew of the treatment that Mark received from other students and they especially knew that Mark refused to talk about it. That if they weren’t there to help him, Mark wouldn’t tell them. That he’d hide from them. Hide the wounds. Hide the blood. Hide the truth.
The truth was that Mark was a liar.
He had everyone convinced he didn’t feel pain. That he didn’t feel anything, but the truth was far from it.
Mutated, gifted, or whatever you want to call it, Mark was still human. His abilities healed him, but like everything in the world, it took time. So no, Mark would not flinch or show weakness against the pain because it was temporary. The physical pain would eventually heal and it was with that knowledge that Mark found no fear in physical pain. Fear was what caused pain, and Mark was not afraid.
So yes, his fucking throat was bleeding out and his gut was most definitely bruised and his head felt like it was cracked in two and his entire body hurt like a fucking bitch, but it would pass. The pain would be short-lived and Mark would stand up and go about his day - His life like nothing happened. Like he was invincible. Because that was the certainty of his powers.
Pain is not real if no one can see it.
That is what Mark learned at a young age. It is why he did not cry. It is why he hid. Because his pain to others was not real. And if others didn’t think it was real, then Mark too would not believe in it.
He focused on his body, closing his eyes and internally scanning himself. His throat wounds were deep, but not fatal. His back and stomach aches, a few broken ribs, a familiar concept to him and manageable. His head - His head needed to be cared for first. The throbbing in his head was different from a normal concussion. Something in his head was broken and he needed to heal that first.
Mark concentrated on that pain.
Thump thump
Thump thump
Focus. He needed to focus and heal himself.
Thump thump
Thump thump
He couldn't feel it. He couldn’t feel his power.
Thump thump
Thump thump
He couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t…. No…. He could feel. He could feel everything.
Thump thump
Thump thump
Mark’s eyes shot open and he gasped. The world around him was painted in red. The bathroom was lit up red and ash fell from the ceiling. This… This was just like his dreams. No. These were his dreams. This wasn’t real.
Had he lost consciousness? Had he died? Had his powers abandoned him?
He looked down at his fingers, planning to count them, to separate dreams from reality when he noticed the red strings wrapped around his arms. His entire body. He was caught in a web. A web just like in his dreams. They gripped at him tight, pulling and marking his skin, yet… Some were beginning to snap.
Focus. Mark had to remind himself.
This isn’t real.
He looked at his hand, ignoring the way the webs loosened and the ash kissed his skin.
“One.” He counted allowed.
“Two.” He knew that soon more fingers would appear and all of this would just be a dream.
“Three.” He was dreaming. None of this was real.
“Four.” Please.
“Five.”
Nothing. He had five fingers.
“No. This isn’t real. This isn’t real.” Mark repeated to himself. Clutching at his head and pulling at his hair, fighting against the strings that pulled him. He thrashed around, squeezing his eyes shut.
“This isn’t real. Wake up. Wake up Mark! Wake up!” He banged at his head. “WAKE UP MARK! WAKE UP!”
“Mark.”
“Donghyuck!” Mark screamed out as his eyes flew open and he was met with a frightened pair of dark blue eyes.
“I’m sorry!” The owner of the royal blue eyes apologized as he moved back and removed the hold on Mark’s leg.
Thump thump
Thump thump
The bathroom had returned to normal with its white lights and dark floors. There was no red. No ash. No more strings on his arms. The pain had returned and Mark could feel his power flowing through him to his head.
Thump thump
Thump thump
“I’m sorry.” The boy softly apologized again and Mark held his bleeding hand up in front of him.
“Wait… Just give me a second.” Mark begged as he closed his eyes.
Thump thump
Thump -
The throbbing in his head cleared and Mark could finally breathe as he let out a sigh. He felt the wounds in his neck begin to close as he once again opened his eyes.
“I’m sorry again.” The boy repeated, his eyes now a dark brown as his hands wrapped around himself and leaned against the bathroom stall away from Mark. “I shouldn’t have touched you without your permission. I’m so sorry. I just… I… I was just so worried. You were just sitting there and the blood… I just wanted to help.” He finished his ramble softly.
“It’s okay.” Mark reassures him. “It’s not your fault.”
The boy closed into himself even tighter, his cheeks flushed.
Mark knew him. At least knew of him.
Park Jisung.
The younger student with the ability to nullify other abilities. With a single touch, he could leave someone completely powerless. There were rumors that sometimes he didn’t even need to touch you either. All he needed was to focus on you and your powers would disappear.
And nobody wanted that.
For a school of people with abilities that were made to feel special about them, nobody wanted to be near someone that made them mortal. So people avoided Jisung.
But that wasn’t the only reason.
Jisung had these friends.
Friends that everybody knew about, but nobody actually really knew. Friends in a special class. A class that gained special privileges from the school. From private dorms to favoritism from teachers and staff to having the ability to leave campus. Some say they were chosen because their powers were the strongest. Yet, nobody knows what exactly they were chosen to do. Why are they the only ones who can exit the barrier around the academy?
There are theories. Theories like they defend the school from bad people that want to take students and use their powers. Theories that they work for the government and the military undercover. Theories that they’ve killed people before and that they could easily kill you and get away with it.
Each rumor was baseless, but their existence wasn’t something that could be argued against. It was true that the school obeyed them whenever they were on campus and even the toughest students bowed their heads down in fear. Mark hadn’t seen them before, secretly worried that he’d be victim to much greater bullying from them. The other classmates he could endure, but these students known from being dangerous wasn’t something Mark wanted to chance. So he avoided them if they were spotted at school. Which was rare and only to visit him.
Jisung.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” Mark comforted the younger boy. “You don’t have to be ashamed of your power.”
Mark almost laughed at how hypocritical his words were.
He lifted himself up, watching as Jisung tried to reach to aid him but quickly held back as he put his hands behind his back. A reflex it seemed.
And Mark was not only a liar, but a softy.
“Can you give me a hand?” He stretched his hand toward Jisung.
“Are you sure?” Jisung hesitated.
“Yeah. Come on.” Mark encouraged him with a smile that Jisung slowly mirrored as he grabbed his hand.
“I’m Mark.”
“I know.” Jisung replied as he walked towards the sink and rinsed a napkin with water.
Mark’s eyes widened in surprise, unsure how Jisung would have known him.
“Um, how do you know who I am?” He voices his curiosity.
Jisung paused for a moment before turning the sink off and squeezing the excess water out of the napkin.
“We’re classmates.” Jisung answers simply.
It’s not a lie. They do share some classes together, yet Mark still couldn’t believe Jisung would know who he is.
“Right. And you’re Park Jisung.”
Jisung’s face slightly twitches as Mark says his name.
“Please, just call me Jisung.”
They stood facing each other, Jisung surprisingly having some inches over Mark even though he was younger. Jisung stretches his hand out and waits a moment before Mark nods, does Jisung dab at Mark’s now closed wounds on his face.
“It’s fine.” Mark tries to gently push his hand away. “It’s all healed already.”
Jisung pauses for a moment before he speaks.
“But the blood is still there.”
It’s a simple statement. Almost thoughtless. An observation that anyone would’ve noticed and yet it’s the first time Mark feels as if someone cares. As if someone knows of his pain.
He’s at a loss of words as Jisung continues to wipe away the dried blood. He does it silently and Mark just stares at him. Wondering how people could be so cruel to this boy. A short thought as Mark refuses to think of how people could be so awful to him as well.
When Jisung pulls away, a smile begins to grow on his face and Mark notices how much younger it makes him look. How innocent he really is.
“There.” He beams.
“Now it’s like nothing ever happened.”
The door slammed shut as he stumbled around the room. He was losing control of his powers. His claws and fangs refusing to return to normal, his entire face and body morphing into a tiger. However, the physical pain could not compare to the internal turmoil that he was barely enduring.
Flashes of memories flooded his mind. So much death. He had lost so much. His friends. His family. His vision was painted in red. Ash burned at his skin. The world was on fire and no one but he could see it.
In the middle of the chaos he could remember the cause of it all.
Those crimson eyes.
He pulled at the curtains, trying to avoid more of the red glow around him. It hurt his eyes, a migraine that made his head pound and his stomach stir. His claws ripped through the curtain, like a wild animal.
He was a wild animal.
He was prey.
Red continued to bleed through his vision, unable to escape the world around him.
His animal senses heightened and alerted him that he was not alone.
“I know who you are.” He hissed through clenched teeth, his fangs cutting through his thin lips. He speaks toward the red world ahead of him, but his words are for the one behind him.
When he turns, he is met with those haunting eyes. The eyes that belonged to the one who did this.
The figure is all but a silhouette.
He is a predator, he reminds himself as he stands tall, breathes heavy and escapes his cat like nose.
“I remember.” He states. “It’s all starting to come back. What you did.”
His pupils dilate as he tries to allow the orange glow of his eyes to frighten the figure in front of him.
“You won’t get away with this.” He spits out his words, snarling at the figure as it steps closer.
A hand emerges from the darkness and with an invisible force, brings him to his knees.
A laugh. A sadistic laugh.
“Oh but I have.” The crimson eyed creature taunted him.
He thrashed at the force that held him down, like an animal caught in a net, but it was useless.
“You’re a fool to think your memory gives you leverage. There is no power with such knowledge. The past is a waste.”
A pressure at the top of his head, pressing deep down into his skull. He tried to reach for it, but his hands were stuck to his side. Tied by the same forces that held him.
“Your ignorance of the truth wasn’t for me to repent. It was an act of mercy.”
The hand grasped at his head and all had come to light.
Red strings. Webs wrapped around, holding him in place. Suffocating him as it tightened its hold around his neck.
“I won’t be that merciful this time around.”
An indescribable surge of pain flooded his body. Screams escaping his lips were his only way to ease the injury. Blood seeped from his eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. He choked on it. His vision grew dark as the last of his breaths fought to live. In the darkness, all he could focus on were those deep red eyes.
With a final scream, he feels his body tighten and shatter. The strings grow taunt and fall to the ground, fading away. All that remains is the trace of dark ash that falls in the place that one once existed.
The door opens, a harsh light brightening up the room, bringing the figures back to illumination.
The figure pulls its hand towards itself, now littered with dust. Golden skin stained by the blood dripping from their nose.
“Are you okay?” A voice speaks from behind it.
Him.
He turns, crimson eyes meeting cold blue ones.
“Of course.” He claimed, walking towards the light. Letting his hands rub at his side, hiding the traces of ash and blood.
The owner of the azure eyes grabs at his elbow, chilling him with his touch.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Doubting him.
Always doubting him.
“I already told you. I’m fine.”
“But-”
His eyes shined as traces of rubied veins quickly ran down his face.
“Jaemin. Don’t worry, I have everything under control.”
A defeated sigh escaped Jaemin’s lips as he dropped his hold.
“I’ll always worry about you, Donghyuck.”
“Don’t.”