Pairing: Do Kyungsoo / Harper Hasagawa (OC)
Current Chapter Rating: PG-13 (Violence)
The world was a drenched greyscale, tilted on its axis, hanging skewed on the scale of forever. The balance was off. I felt it, the rocks felt it, the sea felt it. We were lost in the shift, forgotten between the strands of this new fabric of universe we'd found ourselves in. I didn't fit in here, the island under my boots didn't piece together here, the ocean roiling before me would never be calm here. It was a tempest, crashing against the cliff, crashing against my heart, and the pieces left of it. We competed to see who was loudest in this new truth and I think I won. The whirlwind ripped out of me with enough force to shatter the canted rocks, to silence the ravaging sea. I was more than them, but I was less than nothing. There was no way to tell if the rain hitting my face was from the sea, from the sky, or from me. But it pounded into my skin, each drop a punch. Let them come! I wanted it, I wanted them to wash off this illusion, strip away this lie, because it wasn't real, it couldn't be.
"Hello?" The voice said, and the ocean fractured-
I woke with a jolt.
"Harper? Harper!" My mother was screaming as Fall Out Boy was blaring through the speakers of my phone.
Strange, I thought as I rolled out of bed. It had been at least six weeks since I'd dreamt of that night. Memories were funny things, but dreams were worse. I'd done well for the past few months, avoiding any unnecessary triggers, but who knows? Maybe it was because 'Thnks fr th Mmrs' was playing on a loop and I still hadn't answered the phone.
"Harper! Will you turn that down already!" She yelled again, from downstairs.
"Okay, okay!" I hollered back, grabbing the iPhone from the dresser and swiping the green button without even looking to see who it was. "Hasagawa." I answered with a yawn. Enough time had passed that I no longer screened my calls, not that anyone but my mother called me anyway, but my heart always beat a little bit faster in those first few moments. Because, what if…
"Sergeant?"
I pulled the phone away from my face, gaping at the massive mistake I'd just made. The caller ID listed a
+81 country code, prefecture 98-Naha. "Sergeant? Are you there?"
"K-Kojima?" I muttered. The ghosts seemed to be out in full force today. I dropped to the edge of my bed. I didn't even have a bra on, I hadn't even brushed my teeth! It was too early for this!
"Yokatta! You finally answered! I've been calling all day." A morning of muffled Patrick Stump seemed a likely enough explanation for my mother's mood, the sound byte of my ringtone only playing the best part of the song, but still, it was like 2:00 am in Okinawa-I glanced at the clock on my nightstand and blanched in horrid realization: 13:15 blinked at me in big block numbers, and I practically threw my phone.
"Ohmygod! I'm late for work!" I screamed and flew around the room, grabbing pants, forgoing the bra, screwing the toothbrush.
"What? Sergeant? Hello?" Kojima's tiny voice squeaked from the speaker in my hand, but I ignored it. One boot after the other, I tumbled down the stairs. I heard mom in the kitchen and figured I was late enough to yell at her and not cause any more damage than I already had.
"Why didn't you wake me up!" I howled as I stormed through. She was unphased, chopping vegetables at the kitchen island like I howled all the time. I registered the knife, if only because I was trained to do so, but assumed she'd let me get fired first before she used it.
"What would I wake you up for?" She asked nonchalantly, decapitating a carrot that I envisioned my face on.
"Uhh, my job?" I hissed as I snatched a smoothie from the fridge and b-lined for the garage door.
"Oh, they called this morning."
My heels clicked together in a halt. My back was turned to her but I could tell she'd been waiting all day to have this conversation, just by the way she was massacring those vegetables. Without giving away my temper, I cracked my neck and backtracked to the other side of the kitchen island. We stood face to face and I tried my very best not to follow through with my reflex to disarm her first.
"You answered my phone?" I said through my teeth. She just shrugged unapologetically. If it wasn't bad enough that my mother was invading my privacy, she had absolutely no issues doing it. "What did they say?"
"They said don't bother." She wrinkled her nose as she said it, like it was only a matter of time, like it wasn't my third job this month. I let my head fall at her casual attitude. "Besides," she went on, scooping up her murder victims and throwing them in a stew pot, "you have a job."
"Moooooom." I drowned in the syllable of her name. Surely people would understand if I just threw her in the pot, right? She was nosey, and pushy, and constantly-
"Shouldn't you be taking that call?" She used her butcher knife to point at the still ticking call on the face of my cell phone, ignoring my wail.
"Shit." I muttered as I brought the phone back to front and center. Kojima wasn't speaking but the timer was clearly still going, he hadn't hung up.
"Language." Mom snipped at me, as I backed up from the counter.
"I mean shoot." I corrected snobbishly, but then stopped. "Wait, how did you know he was…?"
"I'm looking forward to the future, but my eyesight is going bad and this crystal ball, it's always cloudy except for when you look into the past…" She started to sing and all I could do was shake my head.
When I was back in the safety of my room, I took a deep breath and put the phone back to my ear.
"Kojima?"
"Your mother has a lovely singing voice." He chimed and I made a face at the wall.
"That is not something I want to hear from you, Private. Now what do you want?" My Sergeant voice came out without my meaning to, and I flinched at the sound of it.
"Well, I have a situation." He continued easily, because well...he was used to it.
"I'm not in country, haven't been in-" I quickly started to deny whatever he was about to ask of me, but he cut me off.
"I'm not dumb, Sergeant." He snorted. "I talked to your mom, I know you're in California."
"Then you should already know that I can't help you." I fired back, wondering why I bothered to answer this call in the first place.
"My situation is in L.A., and I don't have anyone else to ask. Otherwise, I would have called them." I let that sink in for a moment, the bittersweet taste of clapback.
"Rude." Was all I could bring myself to murmur, but he heard me.
"No, you just made your stance very clear is all."
"What situation could you possibly have in L.A.?" I steered the conversation away from my 'stance' and back to whatever it was he wanted. "I thought you didn't know anyone in the U.S.."
"It concerns our mutual friend." The words sounded careful, even over the phone and they made me frown at myself in the mirror.
"Mutual?" To my knowledge, Kojima didn't have any friends in the U.S.. He was always much more concerned with his split heritage than anything us Caucasians had to offer.
"If you have the time…" He trailed off, and I figured he wasn't going to tell me anymore until I made some small amount of commitment. Glancing at the clock with a sigh, I plopped down on the bed and kicked my boots off.
"I guess I do now."
Two hours later, I found that my 5.11s still fit, which was a relief. My fingers laced up my combat boots as if it hadn't been six months since I had even looked at them. All in all, I spent most of the time after the call on my hair because, well...that's a thing. I pulled it up, let it down, pulled it up, and let it down again. No matter what I did, it always morphed into a standard issue bun by magic, like the strands knew no other shape. With a frustrated sigh I raked my fingers through it, surrendering to the down look. It would be a matted mess and get constantly stuck to my chapstick, but at least it wouldn't look uniform.
I proceeded downstairs quietly, hoping she wouldn't stop me, but knowing that she would. She'd moved on to a different part of the meal she was preparing as I passed by, quiet and small. She saw me meander through and paused long enough for us to lock eyes. Then I watched as she took in my gear: the boots, the tactical pants, the pack, and the rods.
"Off to work then?" She asked, her voice a cheery imitation of what I knew to be going on under the surface. Her expression was grave, despite her pleasant question. It was the face she used to make before my deployments; the disconnect of what she was feeling and what she knew was best for me. She hated when I went to battle, it reminded her too much of my dad. She still believed, even when I didn't, that I was a soldier through and through. But this wasn't exactly a sanctioned mission.
"Will you bail me out?" I asked sarcastically, hoping to lighten the mood, but she responded with:
"Absolutely," without hesitation. I cleared my throat, not knowing what else to say, but her eyes were insistent.
"Well, I'm grabbing a train." I said clumsily and started for the door.
"To where?" She asked and I winced.
"...South." I hated this part; the part where she wasn't allowed to know anything; the part where we left her over and over again without telling her where we were going...Dad and me. When I looked back to see how bad the damage was, her face was surprisingly resolute. She looked how she always looked: proud, strong, like the destroyer of vegetables she was, and worried... "Don't wait up." I said softly before escaping out the door.
Regardless of every other wrongdoing, it was a small consolation that their company, SM, at least splurged for Korean TV in the dressing rooms. That, Kyungsoo was thankful for. It gave he and the other members a small sense of comfort, knowing that the EXO-L's at least knew what was going on. And, he supposed, everyone else did too. Every news channel he flipped past—MBCTV, SBS, KNN, KBS1—they all detailed their sudden and firey...predicament.
'EXO HELD HOSTAGE' 'EXO REFUSES TO PERFORM' 'EXO'S BAEKHYUN DEATH IN THE FAMILY' 'EXO - INDUSTRY BEFORE BLOOD?' 'EXO!' 'EXO!' 'EXO!'
Anyone who was anyone was talking about them. It was probably the most headlines they'd made since EXO broke the Daesang record last year, and what were they doing about it?
Moping.
Yixing, Minseok, and Jongdae were off in their own little EXO-M corner, while Chanyeol and Sehun were quietly lamenting over the fact that their cell phones had been taken away. Jongin and Suho were on the couch with Kyungsoo, in spirit at least. Because despite all their pretending for the other's sake, every member was poised towards the bathroom door, straining their ears for some small indication that there was life inside. That's where he was, Baekhyun. He'd holed up in there as soon as they got here and hadn't come out. He needed the privacy, they understood that as brothers, but some of them had to pee. The chaos of yesterday was definitely preferable to the boredom they faced today. After being escorted from their hotel rooms this morning, they'd been on lock down at the convention center, living off of expensive water and little bags of peanuts.
There was a knock at the door, which was as insulting as it was polite, seeing as they had no control over who came in or out. A management team of three from SM America came in with bright smiles and a tray full of lunch, like that was going to fix anything.
"Gentlemen!" The head manager announced brightly. "How are we feeling today?" He opened his arms wide as if to hug them all at the same time and Kyungsoo wondered what Suho's policy on punching employees was. The first and only thing Kyungsoo could stare at were the man's giant teeth: dazzling and neon. His dark skin made them even brighter in contrast and the twinkle nearly blinded everyone in the room. When no one else stepped up to answer, Kyungsoo felt more than heard a small sigh from Junmyeon.
"We are feeling the same as we were yesterday, when you refused to let us leave." His voice unexpectedly neutral.
"Oh, boys! I'm so sorry to hear that!" The man said and Kyungsoo got the impression that he was not sorry at all. "I promise we'll get you home as soon as we can. You just have to...finish the tour first!" He let out a big fake laugh that no one else bothered to join. He acted like the commentator from 'The Hunger Games'; an over the top, charismatic jackass...and Kyungsoo couldn't even remember his name. Junmyeon must have seen the ire emanating, because he stepped around the couch, putting himself in his members crosshairs.
"Please try to understand, there has been a death in our family. It is disrespectful to keep us here." His words were sharp but they bounced right off the manager's teeth like they were shields.
"Oh, Myeonie, I know it hurts, but people die all the time!" He put both hands on Suho's shoulders and Kyungsoo thought he was finally going to see his hyung in action by how his back went rigid. "And this is show business kid...it must go on." With that, all the false bravado fell from his face as he turned to the other managers. "Keep them here until sound check and if they're not on that stage by six o'clock, I'll have more than just your job." Then the three of them stalked out, but Kyungsoo caught a glimpse of one staying behind to stand outside their door.
"I don't think I've ever wanted to punch someone that badly before." Jongin mumbled from the couch. He was a literal teddy bear, his hands were filled with cotton and his heart full of love. He would never hurt anybody-except maybe that guy.
Suho stood firmly, working the muscles in his back. Kyungsoo could tell he was trying very hard to keep his cool for their sakes, but...they all knew their leader didn't know what to do. It was evident in the way he slowly turned and sat back down on the couch, avoiding everyone's eye.
"Hyung…" Sehun murmured and the atmosphere shifted from bad to worse.
"Does anyone…" Junmyeon covered his face for a moment before finally giving in and looking at them, "does anyone have any ideas?"
"Yeah: we leave." Jongdae threw his plan in the pot. "We're acting like their prisoners, but they can't keep us here against our will."
"They can though," Minseok disagreed, "they can and they are."
"But what happens when we go home? Do they expect us not to say anything?" Sehun asked.
"What are we going to say?" Suho responded miserably. "That we broke our contracts, but it wasn't our fault?"
"This isn't fair, hyung!" Jongin started, ripping his teddy bear heart to shreds.
"We signed up knowing it wouldn't be." Suho replied, and Kyungsoo raised an eyebrow at him. He wasn't usually so dissenting.
"To expect the world to be fair is as foolish as thinking a bull won't charge you because you don't eat meat." Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to Yixing who was sitting quietly in the corner.
"I hate his quotes…" Chanyeol dropped his face into his hands off to the side, "they're always so damn applicable."
"And yet he called Baek a 'penis' once." Minseok snorted, and just like that, some of the tension melted away.
After a respite, Suho seemed more level headed and like himself.
"So, you guys tell me, do we go on stage or do we end it here?"
"Those are our only options?" Sehun asked sadly. Out of them all, the maknae's would be the most if it all went south. It was the hyungs that Kyungsoo worried about most.
"Even if we decided to perform," Chanyeol said, "there's no way we can get him on stage." He jutted his chin towards the bathroom door that was more like the elephant in the room. "He's devastated. We all are. Mama Byun was…" Yeol's eyes started to water and he choked up.
"She was the nicest woman in the whole world." Jongdae piped up, going over and putting a comforting hand on the Chanyeol's shoulder. It would have been funny if it weren't so bittersweet, simply because Yeol was so much taller than the rest of them. The reason for all their troubles at the moment, was because Baekhyun's mother had suddenly passed away. His parents didn't tell him that she'd been sick, thinking it was nothing and not wanting to distract him from his world tour, until it was too late.
"Which is funny considering Baekhyun is her carbon copy." Minseok joked, and small sad smiles bloomed around the room.
"Do you remember when it was Baek's turn to host Chuseok, and mother forgot to buy black beans for the Songpyeon, so she used coffee beans instead?" Jongin asked and a collective moan rose from the room. Kyungsoo could have cried all over again remembering the tragically bitter meal. Mama Byun had been so proud though! Proud because everyone knew she couldn't cook, but she'd given the maid the day off because it was Chuseok, and she did her absolute best with what she had. By the end of the night, there wasn't a crumb left, because EXO loved her and there was no way they were going to spit out her food. Kyungsoo even recalled Sehun crying as he ate, bite after bite.
"What about that time right before we debuted that she broke into the dorm and demanded to meet all of us?" Minseok said, and then all together they announced,
"With a chopstick!"
"And when we all had to stay at Baek's house for a week because of his eye, and she let us eat all the foods were not allowed to have." Jongdae beamed, which made Sehun groan.
"God, I miss ramen."
The memories kept coming and the anxiety of their lock down eased. This was the best version of his group, Kyungsoo thought. When all his members were laughing and no deadlines mattered, because they were together. They were telling stories about the people they loved and they had each other's backs. He missed this, missed the ease of it.
It wasn't until there was a bump on the dressing room door and the spell was broken, that they remembered they were stuck there, trapped by their own agency and destined to fail. It was all going to end tonight, one way or the other and Kyungsoo soured, glancing at the bathroom again.
Still no sound.
There was another bump from the dressing room door and then another. He was starting to get annoyed. What could that manager possibly be doing? It was bad enough that he was standing guard, but did he have to be such a-
The door exploded.