Ephemeral, a sense8 fanfic

Hello, everyone! Katierosefun - aka Caroline - here! I finished watching Sense8 for the second time today - and because I was feeling all of the emotions, I decided to write this. I know it doesn't quite incorporate with canon, but I hope the kinks are worked out, anyways. This was also my first time ever writing from the point of view of the characters of Sense8, but I hope I didn't do too terribly. (Practice makes perfect, after all.)

Enjoy!

Ephemeral

i. Sun and Capheus

The first thing she did when she got on the bus was close her eyes. For once, she didn't even mind the noise. It was the only thing that told her what was going on around her, what with her eyes closed. From her seat, Sun Bak could hear the wail of a baby a few rows ahead of her. She heard rapid fire English from another seat – tourists. There was some loud music playing up front, probably from some young students who were out on a lunch break.

Sun could feel her phone buzzing in her pocket, but she didn't bother reaching down to pick it up. She knew it would probably be her younger brother – maybe drunk-dialing or something else of that extreme caliber. At age sixteen, Sun only had a little free time to herself. School was still something she needed to handle, and she was still learning hapkido. On top of that, she was attending hagwon, the extra institutes to help along her studies. That was where she was going now, and though Sun knew that the hours there would be long, she'd still be able to make it home at least before the sun came up. Her father was aware of this, of course, but he still seemed completely ignorant of everything going on in Sun's life (as always).

On the other hand, Joong Ki would be on the way to hagwon, too, though Sun highly doubted he'd be entirely sober or focused enough to play up his highest performance. Not that that would matter, of course. He'd still get all the attention once they got home.

"Take care of him, Sun," her mother had said. "Please?"

Another baby's scream split through the air. Sun squeezed her eyes even tighter, feeling her hands curl together into an unrelentingly tight fist. There was something suffocating about staying in the bus now, but she couldn't get out.

"Are you getting in or not?" Sun heard the bus driver shout into the street. "Hello? Ahjima? I can't wait any longer!"

Sun heard some incomprehensible babbling up at the front – and again, she tightened her hand into a fist. Just go already, she thought tiredly to herself. Please. Just drive.

Sun sank a little lower into her seat, re-adjusting her position so that the side of her face would be resting against the cold window. She let the icy chill numb her cheek, and releasing a small sigh, Sun waited for the rumble of the bus. The driver was still shouting up ahead, though, and so they remained in the same spot.

"Ahjima, I insist –"

"– I can pay for it!"

Sun let out a soft gasp as the cool window suddenly warmed. Her eyes sprang open in surprise, and with some shock, she could no longer see the tourists or the other bus passengers that had been with her just moments ago. Gone were the grey skies of Korea – gone were the sounds of loud pop music – gone were the shouts of the bus driver – gone were the wails of the baby up front.

Instead, Sun found herself in an empty bus – and instead of the traditional black seats, she found herself looking at seats covered with an extremely flashy leopard pattern. She frowned, bewildered, and turned her head from side to side to recover her bearings.

She took one look out the window before gasping out loud again. She couldn't see the familiar Seoul streets – there were no skyscrapers or busy shoppers. Instead, she saw miles and miles of dirt road – and she could see many trees pressed against a bright sky. Sun didn't even know she was sweating until she felt something slide down the side of her face.

Bringing a slightly trembling hand to her cheek, Sun felt the sensation of something wet and sticky on her fingertips. It was most definitely sweat.

How is this possible? Sun thought quizzically to herself. She slowly stood up – and a minute later, she heard someone shout, "Hey! How'd you get in here?"

Sun lifted her head to see two men – wait, no, Sun realized, one man. One young boy.

They were both dark-skinned, although the boy had a much kinder look about him. He was standing on the steps to the bus, one hand holding tight to a number of bills, and the other resting by his side. He stared at Sun curiously, the look on his face half-hopeful, half-confused.

The man, on the other hand, wore a look of extreme annoyance. His eyebrows were knitted together in a cross manner; his arms were folded defiantly over his chest. "How'd you get in here?" he asked again, this time a bit more loudly. Then, without waiting for a response, he marched forward. Sun's body tensed as he started to reach for her arm –

Panicking, Sun ducked to the side and ran to the front of the bus.

The man didn't bother chasing her. "Get out!" he shouted, thrusting a finger out the doors. "Get out! I'm not starting up the bus right now!"

Head still stumbling and feet dragging slightly, Sun started to head down the steps – but before she could, the boy standing there extended his hand again – the one filled with paper money. Eyes flashing mischievously, he turned to Sun and whispered, "I'm going to buy this bus. I'll give you a ride then."

Sun only stared.

"Ha!" the man snorted from above. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Capheus. It won't get you anywhere!"

The boy – Capheus – only smiled. There was no malignance in it, nor was there any sarcasm. Instead, he only took another step up, saying, "I'll give you a part of what money I make, good sir."

The man narrowed his eyes. "I can hardly get people into this bus," he said, shaking his head. "What makes you think you'll be any different?"

"I've got a plan," Capheus responded cheerfully. He walked into the bus, adding in a quieter voice, "You told me this was the price you'd give for the bus just a few months ago. And I've put it together. See?" He turned around to look at Sun, his smile widening. "And look! I've already got my first customer!"

Sun opened her mouth in response – she wanted to say that no, she wasn't a customer; she just needed to get home. (Wherever…home was from here.)

"Isn't that right, miss?" Capheus asked warmly.

Sun blinked.

And then all of it was gone – the boy, the man, the leopard-print seats.

"Miss?" There was a young girl standing next to Sun, her eyes wide and afraid. "Are you alright?"

Sun stared. She slowly turned around – and found that there were many pairs of eyes watching her, all of them concerned – there was a young man holding up a phone, probably ready to call for help –

"Are you feeling well?" the girl asked. "You – you just stood up and started to run for the doors – do you need us to call someone?"

"I…" Sun's voice drifted. She flicked her eyes down at the driver, and for a split second, she almost thought she would find Capheus sitting in the seat with his bright eyes and all. Instead, she only found herself staring at a middle-aged man wearing a baseball cap, chewing loudly on a piece of gum and his eyes narrowed suspiciously up at Sun.

"My apologies," Sun murmured, and lowering her eyes, she made her way to the back of the bus.

She didn't bother closing her eyes after that.

ii. Kala and Wolfgang

"Again, Mr. Bogdanow?"

Wolfgang only shot the detention proctor a glare before pushing open the door to the empty classroom. Indeed, again, he was stuck in detention. And this time, he knew it wasn't his fault – it wasn't like he asked his cousin to punch him, but it happened, and Wolfgang was only defending himself. But it wouldn't matter. He'd always take the fall for it. It wasn't that he cared too much about getting into trouble again – he didn't have any parents who'd be willing to scold him for it. He didn't care about what his teachers thought about him whenever he turned up for detention. To Wolfgang, they didn't matter too much.

However, he did mind that Felix wasn't in school today. Usually, when Wolfgang got into detention, Felix would loyally follow suit, claiming that if Wolfgang didn't have him around, detention would be too boring to handle. Wolfgang only partially agreed. (He didn't mind silence, since he so rarely got it. However, Felix was definitely a disruption that he didn't find annoying or frightening.)

Sometimes, in their detentions together, Felix would have a pack of cards – and though they'd usually have a few cards missing, the boys would be able to put together a decent game of poker. Only they couldn't bet anything, because they didn't have anything to bet with – which was probably one of the only reasons why the teachers let them play it so frequently. One time, Felix snuck in a small tin of crackers, which the boys shared, all the while snickering over how silly the teachers were for not catching them.

Detention itself was always tedious, but Felix sometimes made it a bit better.

But today, Felix was sick with the flu, which left Wolfgang to his own devices.

He slammed himself down into one of the desks and rested his head down on the cool surface of the fake wood. He hadn't gotten too much sleep the night before – his father had been drunk, as always…maybe a little drunker than normal – so if he was in detention now, the best he could do with himself was sleep.

Wolfgang knew that he probably wouldn't be able to do his homework later tonight, either – but again, he didn't care too much about that. He was twelve years old. There was nothing in school worth knowing about at the age of twelve. Wolfgang didn't learn anything useful, after all. Who would care about Shakespeare and ancient Greek philosophers in a few years, anyways? Certainly not him.

"There are two-hundred-seventy bones in the human body at birth," a soft voice said. "But once a human reaches adulthood, two-hundred-seventy bones becomes two-hundred-six because they are fused together as a person grows…"

Groaning a little, Wolfgang turned his head – and his breath got caught in his throat.

There was a girl sitting in the desk a few feet away from him. Her hair fell in a cascade of black curls as she leaned over a large, old-looking textbook. Her skin was a warm brown color, and her eyes were an even darker brown, though when she lifted her head, the sunlight from the windows seemed to lighten them.

And when the girl looked up, Wolfgang watched as the look on her face transitioned from peaceful to puzzled in a matter of seconds.

"Where…?" she breathed, looking around. Her eyes met Wolfgang's – and then, she asked with a frown, "Are you one of my classmates? I don't think I've seen you before."

"No," Wolfgang replied. "You aren't one of my classmates, I'm sure."

"I'm not…" The girl looked around the classroom again. "It's funny," she said, "I wasn't here just a moment ago. I was in the restaurant…" She stood up, frowning down at Wolfgang. "Where am I?"

"In school," Wolfgang responded shortly.

"Well, I know that," the girl said, closing her textbook. "But where?"

Wolfgang stared at her, torn between laughing and rolling his eyes. "You don't know?" he asked, crossing his arms. "Berlin."

The girl's face fell. "Berlin?" she cried, holding the textbook close to her chest. "But I…" She murmured something quietly under her breath, something that Wolfgang could not hear. Then, closing her eyes, she plopped back in her seat. "What're you doing in a school now?" she asked, and though her voice trembled slightly, there was something steely under her words. Wolfgang silently thanked himself for not laughing before.

"Detention," he replied promptly.

"Detention?" the girl asked.

"Got in trouble," Wolfgang said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Fighting."

"I see," the girl nodded, though Wolfgang wasn't too sure that was the case. Looking down at her textbook and her wide, innocent eyes, he had the feeling that she might not be the type to get into too much trouble herself. Still, he (oddly enough) appreciated how she at least attempted to understand.

"What are you reading?" Wolfgang asked after some silence had passed.

The girl's face lit up. "It's for my science class," she replied, holding it up proudly. "It's big, isn't it?" She dropped it on top of her desk, flipping the old pages with equal amounts of rapid speed and care. Her features seemed to soften as her eyes flicked over the words. Her small hands pressed the top of the paper, and she cast a small smile at Wolfgang. "It's quite a lot to read, but I think it's very interesting."

Wolfgang gave a noncommittal grunt before turning back around to face the front of the classroom. Still, as he did this, he couldn't help but to notice the slightly wounded look the girl gave him at this. Wolfgang tried to ignore her, though when the stare continued, he said, "Not everyone likes science."

"I understand that," the girl replied. "Though wouldn't it be polite to try to listen, anyways?"

"Not everyone likes to listen to things about science."

The girl only sighed and pushed away her textbook. "Then what do you like to talk about?" she asked, folding her hands neatly over her lap.

"I don't like talking at all."

"Wolfgang?"

Wolfgang lifted his head to see the teacher popping his head into the classroom. Eyebrows lifted curiously, the teacher asked, "Who're you talking to?"

"Her," Wolfgang answered, pointing at the girl. As if on cue, the girl stood up and gave a friendly wave.

The teacher, however, only opened his mouth – his eyes seemed to slide straight past the girl – and then, with a small shake of the head, he closed the door. "Kids," Wolfgang heard him grumble on the way out. Wolfgang turned to see a confused frown on the girl's face.

"Perhaps he's had a tiring day," she said.

"Mm," Wolfgang murmured.

"You're name is Wolfgang?"

"Yes."

"I'm Kala."

"Alright."

Kala placed her hands under her chin, her dark eyes scanning over Wolfgang with a newfound interest. "Do you come here often? To detention?" she asked, and though Wolfgang tried to, he couldn't find any notes of judgement in her tone. And so, finding it safe, he managed a small nod.

"That's not fun."

"My friend wasn't in school today."

"I suppose that's not too fun, either," Kala said. Then, lifting her head, she said, "You should come to my father's restaurant. There's mostly adults there, but it's rather nice to go to after school. There's always food. And most of my friends don't like to go to the restaurant after school. You would like it there, I think. At least, I do."

Wolfgang gave Kala a wary glance, though the girl already seemed invested in this idea. "As soon as detention is over, we'll go to find the restaurant. Eventually. I think." She frowned. "Although, I don't quite know if I should believe you about being in Berlin…"

Wolfgang decided not to break the news to her again. Instead, he asked, "Why would you invite me?"

Kala smiled, and this time, Wolfgang felt something warm in his chest. "You look like you could use another friend," she replied simply. "And the restaurant always makes me feel happy." She stood up, holding her textbook tight to her chest. She smiled again, this time holding out her hand. She looked at Wolfgang expectantly, waiting patiently for him to take it.

Wolfgang hesitated at first, but then, slowly, he reached forward –

Only for his hand to hold onto empty air.

Wolfgang felt his heart plunge. He stood up quickly, looking around the classroom with his ears pounding loudly in his head. Where had Kala gone? Hadn't she been right here? Wasn't she always here?

Or maybe she never existed.

Wolfgang rubbed his eyes.

He must have been much more tired than he thought.

He slowly sank back into his desk and giving the classroom a wary glance, he rested his head in his hands.

iii. Lito and Nomi

Ever since he was a young boy, he knew that he was born to act. His parents liked to tell him that he was born while the whole family was watching the television – so naturally, Lito Rodriguez was born to be on every television screen in the world.

And now, though Lito was only fifteen years old, he was about to make his first move to the big screen. He didn't have the lead role – that belonged to an older actor – but he did have one of the lead roles. It was an action movie, too, which Lito always looked back at with a small prickle of excitement. He'd be playing the younger brother of the protagonist – and again, while he wouldn't get the most exciting scenes, he knew he was going to get at least a few action scenes.

Lito bounced a little on the balls of his feet, trying to cool down his nerves. He hummed a little, warming up his vocal chords and trying to relax his facial muscles. It didn't work, though – Lito could feel a familiar smile spreading across his face. (He had been smiling the same way in the last few months ever since he found out he got the part.) The fact that there were groups of curious fans on the sidelines wasn't helping Lito's excitement, either.

Of course, they were all for the lead actor – but Lito didn't mind that.

One day, it'll be me, he thought dreamily. One day, one day, one day…

"We'll be shooting in fifteen!" the director shouted over the din of the fans and the crew. "So get ready!"

Lito had to duck to the side to avoid a few crewmates walking by. They were carrying lights and several screens, while others were carrying hefty-looking cameras and makeup kits. Lito had his makeup done already, although he kept looking at himself in the mirror to double-check and triple-check his face. He might end up looking vain – but he kept telling himself that it was for the movie.

And on that note, Lito started to look for another mirror. He didn't have his phone on him right now, but he could try to find one of the emptier screens across the set. With that, Lito started to make his way across the set – he moved past the crowds of fans – and finally, he found the television screen.

It was turned off, so it was completely black. It wasn't exactly useful for Lito to figure out if there was anything on his face – but still, Lito examined his reflection with some mild interest. He patted down his carefully-brushed hair, and, after looking around to make sure there was no one else watching him, he winked at his reflection.

At least, what he thought was his reflection.

Lito let out a sharp cry, tumbling back to the ground. He rolled over, and with his legs trembling, he stood back up. He stared at the television screen again – and stifled another scream.

There was another boy in the reflection.

The boy looked just as scared as Lito felt – if anything, even more. From what Lito could tell, the boy was much younger than Lito – and his shirt was off. Lito watched with a mix of horror and confusion as the boy stared down at his chest with a frown. He had a hand dug into his pants, and though Lito couldn't quite understand what was going on, the emotion on the boy's face was clear –

He was angry. Angry and sad and lonely, all at once. (And…maybe disgusted?) Lito was an actor, after all – a young actor, but an actor – and he knew what emotions people showed when they thought no one was watching.

Then, the boy looked back up. He seemed to stare straight past Lito now, and after a full moment, he mouthed something. Lito frowned, leaning into the reflection.

What?

Tears sparkling in his eyes, the boy kept mouthing the same words. Lito could tell he was repeating himself now – and by the looks of it, it was the same words over and over and over and over again. Lito took a few steps closer to the television screen, and finally, he started to decipher what words the boy was saying.

I – am – a – girl.

I – am – a –girl.

I – am – a – girl.

A girl? Lito wondered, tilting his head to the side. But you are a – oh.

Lito felt a stab of sympathy for the child standing in front of him. He didn't know how to comfort him – no, her, Lito corrected – and yet, he did know what it felt like to hold a secret. And to be shamed for it. Lito watched, torn, as the girl's tears streamed down her face.

Who are you? Lito wanted to ask. Who are you, and do you need help right now?

The girl's lips suddenly stopped mouthing the four words. Her eyes shone through her tears – and then, Lito watched with some curiosity as the words switched. Again, Lito was at a loss at what she was saying at first. He watched, struggling to find out what she was saying through the mirror –

My – name – is – Nomi.

Nomi? Nomi. It might be Nomi, Lito thought. Or it could be Rosie.

My – name – is – Nomi.

Hello, Nomi, Lito thought, sitting down in front of the television. Hello, Nomi – I'm Lito. Hello, hello, hello…

And then Lito watched as Nomi quickly spun around, eyes wide and afraid. There was a woman standing in the background, hands on her hips and a stern expression on her face.

What are you doing? the woman seemed to ask. You're being ridiculous! Lito watched with horror as the woman yanked Nomi's shirt back down – her hands shot out to grab Nomi's small wrists and then she was being yanked up. Though Lito couldn't hear what was going on, the emotions were quite clear – Nomi struggled against the woman, mouth open in silent screams and the woman shouting back in response.

Lito felt his hands curl up in anger. Leave her alone, he wanted to say. Please, just leave her be! He felt tempted to break the screen. If he was the leading hero in the action movie, he'd reach into the screen and break Nomi out. Or at least, he'd try.

"Lito?"

Lito spun around to see one of the director's assistants standing behind him. He wore a headset and was carrying a clipboard. "Come, come, Lito," the man said, gesturing quickly. "We're on in two minutes! What were you doing here?"

"I –" Lito turned around to look at the television screen.

His reflection stared back at him.

"Lito!"

"Yes, sir! Sorry!" Casting the television screen one last wary glance, Lito bolted away from the television.

iv. Riley and Will

Iceland was always cold in the winter. The warmest parts of Iceland were usually around the freezing point – and Reykjavik, thankfully, was around the southwest part of Iceland so it didn't get quite as cold as other parts of the country. It wasn't that Riley minded the cold too much, though – she liked the bitter sting of it against her face, the refreshingly airy feeling in her lungs, and the smell of wood-smoke in the air that only came in the wintery months.

So when it started snowing, Riley Blue was the first one in her neighborhood awake and scrambling to wake her father.

And only an hour and a half later, Riley was dressed up in her warmest clothes and her biggest boots. Still tasting the powdered sugar from the pӧnnukӧkur in her mouth, she parted her lips to inhale the slightest bit of snow. It melted in her mouth almost immediately, just like the powdered sugar and butter had – but instead of giving her a warm, homey feeling in the chest, Riley felt something icy and bubbly well up in her heart.

Riley let out a loud laugh and promptly tumbled into the snow. It was soft, too – incredibly so – and this gave Riley all of the freedom to roll around in it, basking in its lightness. She grabbed chunks of the stuff and threw it up in the air, delightedly watching the way it seemed to scatter and blow as soon as the wind hit it.

To Riley's ten-year old brain, this was home. This was perfection. This was where she would stay, where she could eat pӧnnukӧkur made by her father and listen to piano drifting from inside the house and feel snow seep into her socked feet.

Riley rolled over on her side, catching a faceful of snow. Letting out another laugh, she sat up, brushing the flakes out of her hair. She looked back towards the house – only, instead of seeing the house, she saw a different building. A tall one with large windows and heavy-looking doors.

Riley frowned. She slowly stood up from the snow, and winding the scarf around her neck, she crept forward until the door swung open.

A little boy stood on the porch, his eyes downcast and his hands shoved into his pockets. He looked annoyed, if anything, and he carried a shovel on his shoulder.

"What're you doing here?" the boy asked, narrowing his eyes.

Riley couldn't think of an answer straightaway. "It's snowing," she managed to reply.

"I know it's snowing," the boy replied. He took the shovel from his shoulder and dug it into the ground. Riley took a half-step back, but then the boy picked the shovel up again and marched to the driveway. He dug the shovel into the ground, and emitting a small grunt, he picked up the snow and tossed it into a pile next to Riley.

"What're you doing?" Riley asked, sitting back down on the ground.

"Shoveling," the boy answered. "And then I have to shovel the Millers' driveway, and then the Haas' driveway, and then…" The rest of his words drifted away as he made a larger pile of snow next to Riley.

Riley picked up the snow from the pile, watching it melt in her gloved hands. (It didn't melt, though. It stuck to the fabric, looking like nothing but a cluster of white.) Examining the little snowflakes, she said, "I don't get to shovel snow. It shouldn't be shoveled – we could just stay in it. And make snow castles."

The boy cast Riley a doubtful look. "Snow castles?"

"Snow castles," Riley confirmed. She stood up. "I'm Riley."

The boy shoveled up the snow again. "I'm Will."

"Nice to meet you, Will. Would you like to build a snow castle with me?"

"I'm busy."

"Later, then?"

Will shoveled the snow again. Then, in a softer voice, he said, "Sure."

Riley grinned. She bent down to pick up the snow, but when she stood back up, Will was gone.

v. I am We

The sun was setting and the water was choppy.

But they could all see each other, even after the sun set over the horizon.

A/N - Hagwon - extra private institutes that most Korean students go into to boost academics. This is kind of an extra-school.

Ahjima - Respectful Korean word for "Miss/Mrs."

Pӧnnukӧkur - Icelandic pancake.

Because Sense8 incorporates many different cultures and many different peoples, I tried my best to respectfully incorporate those aspects into this story (since the cultural differences is incredibly important and unique in the show). I am Korean-American, so I at least understood the culture aspect in Sun's background, though because I didn't quite understand Kenyan culture/German culture/Mexican culture/Icelandic culture/Indian culture, I couldn't incorporate quite as much without being scared that I might make a mistake in misrepresentation. I also have never experienced the same struggles or pains that a transgender person has, so I tried to be respectful to Nomi's experiences as well. (And I hope I was able to represent this issue with the most respect possible.)

And if anyone would be willing to educate me on something that I might possibly have been inaccurate in, do not hesitate to send me a quick message to explain to me what I got wrong. (Although I do hope you'll be gentle; please be patient with me in knowing that I might not be thoroughly educated in different cultures/experiences purely because of my background.)

Reviews would be nice! Constructive criticism is alright, but flames are not.