Chapter 17: in need of gardening

When the shock blew over, Jongho stared down the informant with eyes gleaming with the same suspicion that the Elites had turned on him before.

"Why are you telling me this?" Jongho scrutinized Mark, finding no logic that would play in the other's favour just for telling him this information. Mark worked with valuable information, why would he hand something so heavy off without asking for reimbursement.

Mark's neutral mouth twisted to a mischievous smile that reminded him of a child waiting for his naive prank to unfold into chaos, though his dark eyes were unusually serious.

"I could get in big trouble for telling you this, but I find this way more entertaining instead of just letting things take their natural route. I wouldn't be able to tell you who, but someone in that room right now is not who you think they are." Mark ran a hand through his hair casually, as if he had not just dropped the biggest bomb of a secret right onto Jongho's lap. That ticking time bomb of a secret was worth its weight in firepower and damage it could cause to the uncertain alliance that held the Elites and Jongho in a partnership.

Mark was leaning against the nearest wall with one of his heels kicked back against the cream-coloured surface, his nonchalance on the topic shook Jongho's belief in whether to listen to him or not.

"I don't understand," Jongho muttered nearly under his breath, "There's no reason for you to just hand away this information for free. What's the catch? Or is this just supposed to be some cruel joke?"

The informant chuckled in an almost exaggerated fashion, and Jongho almost didn't catch the flash of annoyance that clouded the other's vision.

"Some people think they're entitled to the world and will do whatever they can to claim its treasures. Others, like myself, get to be stepping stones towards their glorious vision, while even more people become insignificant bugs in the way of greatness." Mark's eyes were locked on Jongho's as if to send him a silent message about Jongho's own place in the system. Mark spoke cryptically enough, but Jongho still found some understanding amongst his words, "Usually we don't get to choose which one we are to the entitled, so messing up some of their plans is a way I get to tell my own story."

The informant had his arms folded in front of his body, patiently waiting for Jongho's response even when it took the younger a few minutes to wrap his head around some of the other's proposed concepts.

"Oh really?" Jongho crossed his arms to mirror the man across from him, "If I am supposed to be one of those 'insignificant bugs' and you are a 'stepping stone', why would you help me? Are you not above me then? Right now I trust all the people in that room," Jongho motioned behind him to the door where the Elites were waiting beyond, "a lot more than I trust you."

Mark rolled his eyes this time, his annoyance was more apparent on his sharpened features. "Did you not hear me? I don't like getting ordered around, and besides, I thrive in chaos." His mouth twisted into a dark grin, his moment of semi-vulnerability had hardened once again into a carefree, mischievous trickster. "What's the fun in letting things play out on their own? I'd much rather give you a headstart."

Whatever semblance of melancholy the other had experienced during his earlier speech had been sucked back into the confines of Mark's unreadable gaze, as if he had realized with Jongho's interruption that he had spilled too much.

Mark wandered back closer to the doorway that marked the separation of their conversation from the waiting Elites. When Jongho still didn't look convinced, Mark shrugged as if disappointed, "It's your choice to trust me or not. If it comes back to bite you in the end, I won't even say 'I told you so.'"

Mark puts his hand on the cusp of the threshold, pausing before he re-entered his room.

"Oh and about the payment?" Mark smirked over his shoulder, "Consider this . . . you doing me a favour."

The other vanished back into the room in a blink, retreating into his dimly lit headquarters full of screens and mysterious codes that filtered through every blank surface.

All alone now in the hall with just his thoughts for company, Jongho collapsed with his back against the wall releasing a troubled breath. The overwhelming weight of uncertainty had been chipping away at his legs since the conversation had taken an unforeseen turn, weakening his knees until he could no longer hold them upright.

His sudden weakness was only a testament to how deeply he was shaken at the possibility of a spy hidden amongst the ranks of the Elites. Their faces flashed behind his closed eyelids, each carried no motivation for betrayal so his doubt continued to grow about said spy's existence. There was something off about Mark that Jongho couldn't quite explain, so he still was hesitant to trust him.

But what could Mark gain from fooling him?

Jongho didn't know what he believed anymore.

He didn't want to just start flat-out accusing his current team members based on possible truths spilled from an informant's lips. Wooseok had taught him better than that.

Jongho himself still had to take more steps to gain their full trust. Sure the Elites were nice to him and treated him kindly like any other person, but right now none of it held a candle to how suspicious they had seemed when Mark had pulled him aside.

It was becoming increasingly more obvious that they held him at arm's length sometimes, perhaps it came with the nature of their introduction. Jongho had revealed to them the truth behind a world they thought they had understood, and he had only stumbled upon it because of his brave and incredible best friend.

Maybe they suspected him of coming to them on purpose, to throw them off their game or something. He had no way of understanding their thinking and knew they couldn't tell if getting Yeosang back was his only true intention.

Jongho was once again harshly reminded of their short time frame with which he had known them personally. He barely knew some of them existed just over two weeks ago, with Wooyoung as an obvious exception. But even then, he hadn't spoken a word to Wooyoung since high school.

A lot of things had changed since then.

Jongho winced thinking about the wounded look Wooyoung had fixed him with when Mark had recognized him, and then again while he trailed anxiously after Mark into the hall. He wasn't sure why Wooyoung had given him such a raw look, but it made his gut twist just thinking about it.

Yet another reason he brushed off the possibility of a deeper connection with Wooyoung. Trust was a fundamental part of relationships and if they couldn't trust each other, it was doomed to fail before anything had even begun.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly as if fearing that suds would wash through them. His hands rose on instinct up to his burnished brunette tendrils of short hair, clasping a gentle fistful in each hand. He didn't want to think anymore. He wanted the floor to swallow him with its imaginary open maw of angular teeth.

Anything seemed better than the prospect of facing the Elites now that seeds of doubt had been planted in his ability to trust some of them. That's why he remained a pitiful huddled figure in the hall, nearly curled in on himself as if he was a part armadillo. Waiting outside seemed a far better alternative than entering Mark's room once more, he wasn't ready for the Elites to give him that much attention. (Though he was aware that waiting out here alone probably gave them even more reason to worry.)

He patted his front pocket where the bag with the black blood sample usually resided and momentarily panicked on instinct when he felt nothing. It took a few moments for his mind to catch up, his memory flashed to where he had seen it laying on one of the desks in the other room. Exactly where Mark had left it.

Jongho groaned, dragging a free hand down his face. He prayed one of the others remembered to collect it because he had no desire to go in himself to retrieve it. Plus with the way Mark had considered it, he would rather they not leave the specimen with him if they could avoid it.

His foot tapped against the flattened carpet in a gentle distraction from his futile worrying. His eyes found their own distraction amidst the peculiar paintings they had failed to notice earlier that lined the halls delicately. He pointedly observed the nearest one. It was of a flamingo in a muted pastel paradise, a shock of abstract colour compared to the overall theme of the building.

The click of the heeled boots to his left made him turn his head in slow motion. He found Seonghwa's gaze as he led the following line of Elites out of the informant's homeroom. As each passed the frame of the door to take up the space in the halls, Jongho watched each of them pass their gaze over him with either a blank curiosity or unreadable sharpness.

As Jongho found his footing on his previously weakened legs, he fell into step at the back of the group as they paused only a moment before continuing towards the stairs. Strangely enough, Yunho was the one who held back in order to walk at his side, swinging a friendly arm around Jongho's shoulder unbothered.

Jongho just gave him a small confused glance but brushed off the other's casualness. All the others were treating him differently at the moment, but Yunho remained unchanged. Though it felt peculiar, Jongho was also secretly grateful for the normality.

"So what was that about?" Yunho questioned as soon the group reached the crest of the stairs, the silence between them now chased away. The rest of the group was also strangely silent and only walked forward with what seemed like the single-minded intent to leave.

Jongho made an internal sound of understanding, 'they want Yunho to interrogate me.'

With his realization, he felt somewhat apprehensive about answering the cheerful bluenette. Yunho was one of the brightest people he had come to know and it was purely impossible for the other to have a single bad bone in his body. Besides, Yunho wanted Mingi back more than anyone else, what motivation could he ever have to betray them?

If all of this held true, why was Jongho having such a hard time getting the words out?

There was something in the very pit of his stomach that tied itself in continuous knots as if some unknown warning to prevent him from saying something he wasn't meant to. Flashes of Mark's expression when he had mentioned the spy lived behind his own eyelids, and he made up his mind.

Jongho just happened to glance forward at the others ahead of them then. Each was trying to play it off as if they weren't all obviously listening closely to the conversation taking place behind them, but Jongho was able to see through them.

"Not much, just more about the black blood sample. He was wondering how I got it. You know, with how rare it apparently is." Jongho spun some rapid lie, but in the middle of it, he managed to come to a confusing conclusion for himself.

Why hadn't Mark asked them that? Was the spiel about its rareness made up to make it seem like the information he would be able to give them was worth even more?

As Jongho was having this minor crisis, Yunho fell away, satisfied with the answer.

They passed through the lobby uninterrupted. Only Yunho waved at the receptionist from before with an easy smile.

Jongho had to shake off a shudder as he felt her gaze follow them through the strange lobby, no longer welcoming and passive. It was as if she was warning them about the dangers of lingering too long in such an unfamiliar environment.

Jongho scrambled to catch up with the bulk of the group, Yunho's long legs were able to keep up with them all easily but Jongho had no such luck.

As they set their first steps into the parking garage below the building, Jongho couldn't help but add, "You did remember to grab it right?"

Yunho glanced forward as they were approaching the cars, and San glanced back knowingly. Jongho wasn't sure if the pinkette had realized that he had accidentally revealed that he had been listening the whole time.

San held up the small plastic bag, seemingly making it appear out of nowhere, "I have it."

Jongho was just mustering up the courage to ask for it back, but San had already anticipated his words before he even had a chance to speak.

"Do you mind if I hold onto it?" San's tone was innocent enough, but the hidden intention made Jongho feel as if his whole body had been suddenly dunked in ice-cold water.

They didn't trust it in his hands. (Well more like San didn't.) So, to avoid confrontation and to help ease their suspicions if possible, Jongho merely shrugged with a small mumble of affirmation. Behind his compliant meekness, there were the beginnings of worry and betrayal swirling in angry clouds brewing in his gut.

He watched San pocket it with subtle yearning, but then managed to catch Yunho watching San with curious eyes. An almost confused glow was present in the other's chestnut eyes, and their gazes caught when Yunho turned back towards him. Yunho tilted his head in a silent question, but Jongho shook his head mutely. It was only a small reassurance that he was fine, but Yunho nodded and looked away.

Even the short walk to the waiting twin black SUVs was spent in further silence, and Jongho felt the air was charged with tense unspoken animosity. However, there was not much he could do about it without drawing everyone's attention to him once more. He just followed in line like everyone else, even until he piled into his designated car with Yunho and Hongjoong.

Hongjoong took the driver's seat this time, but before he turned the ignition, he found Jongho's eyes through the rearview mirror.

"I know that you lied about whatever you and Mark discussed," Jongho glanced at the elder with wide eyes, "But I've never believed you to have bad intentions so I'm choosing to trust that you have a good reason." Hongjoong turned the key as if to signal he was done with what he wanted to say. The vehicle roared to life, and Hongjoong did the necessary checking in each direction before reversing. The other SUV next to them waited patiently while Hongjoong backed up, then only began to move once Hongjoong was out of the way.

Jongho knew that Hongjoong was exceptionally perceptive but he never expected the other to be able to see through him that easily. He almost gaped but snapped his mouth shut when he saw Hongjoong's amused glance once more through the rearview mirror.

He gulped to himself, considering just spilling about what Mark had actually said. The same pressure in the pit of his stomach that prevented him from telling Yunho in the hallway remained, but this time Jongho felt he could push through it. This time only Hongjoong and Yunho would be listening.

He wasn't sure if the spy thing was actually true or not, but something within him was placated at the thought of only breaking the 'news' to a few at a time.

Besides, he was convinced Yunho was innocent because of the other's pure connection and desperation to save Mingi. Would someone really ally themselves with the same people that had stolen away someone they loved? Jongho was certain of that. Then there was Hongjoong, who was one of the less shady members of the Elites. He had been only ever encouraging and friendly to Jongho, and even right now, Hongjoong was choosing to trust him when everyone else in the Elites was questioning him.

Besides his foolish blind trust in Wooyoung, he felt as if these two in particular were trustworthy.

He pinned his trust in Wooyoung both foolish and blind because as of now he was so caught up in everything that was Wooyoung that he didn't even think about whether he should trust him or not. Perhaps it was time Jongho halted the sparkles exuding from his eyes whenever he looked in the blond's direction, and instead focused his attention on their true objective: bringing Yeosang and Mingi home.

Still, Jongho couldn't bear to accuse the blond. If Wooyoung eventually betrayed them . . . Jongho shoved the thought clear of his mind.

He wouldn't.

He had to believe that Wooyoung didn't have anything to do with the spy and pray it didn't come back to bite him. But then wouldn't it be the same for the others?

This was becoming confusing.

"Mark said there's a mole," Jongho wanted to divert his eyes from their vivid attention, but forced himself to remain still to judge their reactions for himself. Sometimes in a moment of shock, a person's face reacts without any thinking involved. He would then be able to catch if one of them reacted strangel-

Wait. When did he become so calculating? He was choosing to trust them with the information, so wasn't that enough for him not to suspect them?

Yunho sputtered and coughed from the passenger side, having just taken a gulp of water from a spare bottle that had been left in the side cup holder. Meanwhile, Hongjoong's eyes widened beyond what Jongho thought possible and the auburn-et had to fight to keep the car centred on the road when his hands jerked in surprise. If the others in the second car were directly behind them then they would have been questioning the sudden peculiar maneuver.

"How would he know? Are you sure?" Hongjoong interrogated him from the front seat with eyebrows furrowed in concentration and frantic confusion. Yunho was still coughing, and with a tinge of fear, Jongho leaned forward to pat his back firmly in the hope to help. Yunho directed a thumbs up towards Jongho from his hunched figure, a silent message that he would be okay and enough to make Jongho lean into the back seat once more.

The question seemed like a rhetorical one, but Jongho answered anyway.

"He is an informer. It would make sense that he would have access to sensitive information. With his skill level, it also makes sense that he would be able to get his hands on any form of information he needs too." Jongho tapped his chin in uncertain, mumbled thought.

Yunho faced the younger in the back seat, his face still a shade of cherry from his vigorous coughing. "Why would he help us though? If he thought there was a mole, wouldn't he want a high price for such information? I knew Mark when we were younger and he isn't the type to give away freebies, especially for someone he was supposed to have just met. But then again, he seemed to recognize you, so . . . some things just aren't adding up."

Jongho knew they were expecting him to clarify whatever connection he may share with Mark, considering the informant's obvious recognition of his face.

"I promise that I have never met Mark before. Never seen him before in my life even. I have no idea how he knows who I am, but he specifically called me out just to tell me this." Jongho glanced between the two Elites with quivering eyes.

Now that they had fortified his earlier questions, Jongho felt relieved to not be the only one to not understand Mark's 'charity'. Mark wouldn't give something so important away if it was true, and even then he would expect something out of it. He hadn't asked Jongho for anything in return.

Did this mean he had an ulterior motive? What could Mark possibly gain from revealing a spy within the ranks of the Elites? There was only one possible explanation for the informant's actions that actually made some lick of sense.

Someone else had already paid him to give away the information.

So then was this all a set-up to pit Jongho against the Elites? Nothing made sense.

His mouth moved almost subconsciously, "I'm not sure how much I trust him, but if there is any possibility I don't want to just stand by either."

Hongjoong appeared the most troubled of the two at the new information. His eyes, a shade of mahogany wood, were stormy and uncertain.

"There was something weird about him for sure, but like you said I don't think we should ignore something like this," Hongjoong admitted, slowing the car to a stop at the red light. Seonghwa's car was already far ahead of them past the intersection, all of its occupants unaware of the covert discussion taking place behind them.

"I don't even think I believe most of it, but if I did, I would probably still trust both of you with your opinion on the matter," Jongho said, watching as Yunho and Hongjoong exchanged unreadable glances.

Hongjoong eased forward once more as the light flipped to emerald green, while Yunho hummed thoughtfully in response to Jongho's claim. There was an air of regret in his slightly hunching posture, and the bluenette made sure to catch Jongho's gaze as if in atonement.

". . . There was a moment in the room without you and Mark where we seriously began to doubt you. We had no reason doubt to you after you helped us and shared your burden, but even then . . . we were being stupid. We didn't even know what to think at first, but Wooyoung was the one who told us he still trusted you. It was all because of him that we chose to take the chance." Clear edges of remorse coated Yunho's tone, "I'm sorry we didn't trust you."

Jongho wasn't the type to hold grudges for someone's actions in a situation that had played out so unexpectedly. In fact, he never really had it in him to keep up a grudge when it was much easier and healthier in his opinion to just move on.

There was only one exception, but it was one he still refused to address.

Jongho gave them both a reassuring smile, though he knew Hongjoong wouldn't be able to see it from the driver's side. "It's okay, let's put that part behind us. I just think we should be more careful from now on."

The eldest of the three nodded in firm agreement.

"I don't want to think that any of us is a mole," Hongjoong's mouth was drawn into a thin line, "I've known Seonghwa for a long time, and San and Wooyoung for over a year now. I can't think of any reason why they would go behind the backs of the rest of us. Unless . . ." Hongjoong didn't further elaborate on whatever he must have been thinking, but it seemed to have troubled him enough for his eyebrows to pinch in thought. Yunho didn't seem to understand either, so Jongho just figured it was a private matter that Hongjoong had kept contained to him and whoever it was affecting.

The troubled man in the driver's seat sighed heavily, "Either way . . . some things about this whole spy situation don't add up."

With a flick of the indicator switch and a small pause to allow a pedestrian to scurry across the last part of the sidewalk, Hongjoong turned the car into the parking lot that led to the back of Wonderland. The upcoming parking lot was mostly reserved for staff, but Jongho had overheard Yunho say that sometimes Seonghwa allowed very special VIP guests to access this parking lot.

Speaking of their boss, Seonghwa was leaning against the driver's side of the twin SUV he had been driving minutes before. Wisps of his windswept obsidian strands blew in and out of his face as he waited for Hongjoong to park. San and Wooyoung were nowhere in sight, most likely already getting into work-mode inside the neon establishment just behind them.

As they pulled into a parking spot a little ways away from Seonghwa's SUV, Hongjoong spoke up in a low voice keeping his mouth turned away from the window where Seonghwa waited.

"This stays between us. And us only. I don't want the others to start panicking, and, well," The elder didn't even need to say it, knowing the others were thinking the same.

If there is a spy, we wouldn't want to tip them off that their role had been discovered.

Yunho and Jongho nodded their agreement. Once Hongjoong had their confirmation he slipped from the car and walked to meet Seonghwa as if nothing had ever occurred between them.

As if they had not just had a whole conversation about whether they could trust the rest or not, Jongho and Yunho also quickly made their escape from the car and into the back of Wonderland.

And as Jongho continued through the rest of the night, going between cleaning glasses and discussing the official debut with Hongjoong, both unease and reassured confidence began to seep through his consciousness.

The unusual confidence whispered that if there was a mole, Hongjoong, Yunho, and himself would uproot the treachery from its source. The three of them were far capable enough to ensure the safety of the rest of the team, and Jongho knew they could handle this if things took a nosedive downhill.

But his unease festered beneath his skin silently. There were no whispers, no inklings as to why his skin itched with unrest.

And somehow, the silence was the one that affected him more.

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