tw: death

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San awakes early that morning in a cold sweat, shirt soaked and sticking to him like second skin. It isn't something out of the ordinary, unfortunately, as San has spent many of his nights haunted by his horrific past.

This time, the nightmare was particularly gruesome, his abuser not only holding him down to hurt him, but Jongho as well.

San, still shaken up from the contents of his dream, immediately forages for his phone and switches it on, having to blink repeatedly to get the remaining sleep out of his eyes.

It's Tuesday now, and Wooyoung hasn't texted him since yesterday when he'd stitched up his wounds, something the hero's never done before. But San doesn't let it get to him, however, figuring the hero must've needed some space after what he'd told him.

San is about to send Wooyoung something to confirm if he's alright or not when he sees the missed call notification from an unknown number, as well as unread texts from the same number.

Cautious, San opens up the messages, only for his pulse to quicken.

- UNKNOWN NUMBER
san hyung, hey! its jongho :)
i saw you on the news and i wanted to call u but i wasnt allowed by the landline cause its past nine and im not supposed to be out by then :(

- UNKNOWN NUMBER
but this nice man with a hat showed up and offered me his phone to text you

- UNKNOWN NUMBER
i think he works here
i called u at first but u didn't reply so i figured ur probably sleeping

- UNKNOWN NUMBER
i hope youre okay hyung!
hope to see u soon :)

San doesn't know why he feels so on edge and nervous, doesn't know why his intuition's telling him that something isn't right.

He decides he needs to get to Jongho as quickly as possible, because he won't forgive himself if something happens to his brother on his watch.

San soon enters to bathroom to take a shower and after he's done, pulls on his outfit for the day in the nick of time, too much in a hurry to even consider packing Jongho his usual lunch.

He makes it to the living room, keys squeezed in his grip when he spots Mingi staring blankly at the boiling pot of water on the stove, the man as motionless as a rock.

"Mingi, I hope you're not still mad at me," San says, referring to the cold shoulder the man had given him all through yesterday as a result of Wooyoung's presence. "I didn't mean to upset you."

Mingi doesn't reply, doesn't even move from his position in front of the stove, and San quickly gets the hint, dejected.

San takes the bus to Treasure Heights in a couple minutes, the environment oddly silent and unassuming for the most part. San figures it's due to heading to town a little earlier than usual, and doesn't think much of it after.

The unusual stillness in the air continues all the way into Treasure Heights even with the civilians strolling up and down the streets, eager to get started on their day.

San tugs on his hoodie and pushes up his face mask, loathing the way the hair at the back of his neck stands on end.

Promise shelter's gates are already open by the time San arrives there, a young lady currently trimming the bushes. She looks up at San, her brown eyes hollow and her facial expression peculiar.

"Looking for someone?" She questions, snapping at the branches a little too mechanically.

San just nods, not in the mood to converse with this woman he doesn't know.

"Jongho, right?" The woman affirms, cutting off a flower without looking. San feels his breath hitch, but the lady doesn't seem to notice. "The children are eating breakfast."

San walks off to go register himself for visitation, shuddering under his hoodie even with it being near the middle of June. When he meets Kihyun behind the stand, the man barely blinks as he looks over his ID, not a single word uttered.

San remains at the waiting hall until the kids start racing out to go play. He sighs, relieved that the children at least seem to be acting normal.

Jongho eventually shows up within the crowd donned in one of his favourite graphic tees, the teen's face immediately brightening up when he sees San. San feels his worries ebb away like melted ice, smiling when Jongho envelopes him in a near suffocating hug, uncaring of whoever sees.

"Oh my god hyung," Jongho exclaims, words running a mile a minute, "I -- I saw you on TV, with The Golden Clover. What the hell were you doing on TV?"

"It's a long story," San murmurs, remembering he still hasn't messaged Wooyoung. He really hopes the man is alright, that he's just taking some time off and isn't in serious danger.

"Then you need to tell me everything, hyung," Jongho insists, his big eyes bright and oh so curious. "Did you also see my texts?"

At this, San's good mood dwindles. He clenches his fists, shoulders squared and eyes narrowed. "The man who gave you his phone, who is he?"

San knows that after he let Wooyoung in on how much the superhero's crime fighting missions have been fabricated for the media, people from the Headquarters could have been sent to him to track him down, or worse, try to hurt someone he cares deeply about as punishment.

Jongho just shakes his head, a little too flippant for San's liking. "I think he was a worker. Haven't seen him around though since last night. Now can you please tell me why you were on TV next to a superhero?"

San sighs, knowing that when Jongho gets persistent, he can be stubborn to a fault. And when he is there's no changing his mind or dodging his questions for much longer. It also doesn't sit right with San when he hides things from the teenager.

"Let's..." he chews his bottom lip, still wary of the unknown man that'd interacted with Jongho, "let's sit down first."

Jongho nods, immediately sprinting towards an empty bench in front of the playground. He pats beside him and San takes a seat, and then the teenager's raking his fingers through his hair in thought.

"Didn't think you'd come so early," Jongho says after a moment.

"I saw your texts and I had to come quickly," San answers, pulling off his mask to free his face from the heat. While showing off his scar is still a daunting experience, Wooyoung had sort of helped in making him feel a little more normal with it. "I got worried."

Jongho stares at him in disbelief before playfully nudging his ribs. "Why were you worried, hyung? There's no need to be. I'm perfectly fine."

"I know," San relays, staring at the pastel blue sky, "but I just...I just wanted to know that you were okay. I don't want you getting hurt, Jongho."

Jongho pats his back, suddenly seeming like the older one out of the two. "You're way too anxious, hyung. Like I said before, I'm absolutely fine. I woke up, showered, had some not-so-terrible breakfast this time around, and then I saw you and I felt so much better than before."

San forces himself to just relax, for Jongho's sake. "Really?"

"Really." The younger grins, his gummy smile reassuring San. Everything is fine. "So can you tell me why I saw you on the TV now?"

San leans into the bench as he fiddles with a few of his bracelets. "You already know I have a telekinesis zia."

"Mhmm, I do."

"Well, The Golden Clover knows I have powers too," San continues, only for Jongho to nearly topple over the bench in shock.

"What?" Jongho looks at the older like he's grown three heads. "Hyung are you serious?"

San nods. Despite being on high-alert, Jongho astonishment is too adorable not to coo at. "Yep. We know each other."

"How? What? Huh?"

"Jongho, I need you to promise me you won't tell anyone what I just told you," San says, facing the boy squarely.

Jongho's still flabbergasted to bits, but he shakily nods his head, looking seconds away from exploding with a bunch of different questions. "I-I promise. But hyung..."

"Hm?" San meets the teen's gaze, not too fond of how he looks seconds away from figuring something out.

"Is Wooyoung hyung The Golden Clover?"

San's breathing shallows, and Jongho's eyes are filled with understanding.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," is what the teen replies with, picking at a loose thread on his shirt. "I just kinda suspected it after how close you two looked on the TV. And then the way you reacted after I talked about The Golden Clover made me figure it out."

San exhales, peering back up at the sky. The sun shines through the minimal white clouds, not too overbearingly hot. "You're a little too smart for your own good, Jongho."

"I will take that as a compliment," Jongho answers. He kicks San's leg, gaining the man's attention. "I know you've done a lot for me, hyung. Ever since I came here you've been like the older brother I never had. In fact, you are my older brother because I wouldn't want anyone else taking that role in my life. I also appreciate how you always try to make me happy, but I also want you to be happy, hyung. You deserve to be happy, and that's why I'm so glad you met Wooyoung hyung."

San -- really not expecting these words from Jongho -- can only stare at him at first before getting all choked up, a large lump soon forming in his throat. "Jongho..."

"I just want you to be okay too, hyung," Jongho finishes, and San can't take it anymore. He holds Jongho close and buries his head on his neck, hot tears clogging his vision. "Shit, oh my god. Hyung, please don't cry."

"I'm not crying," San whispers, but it's obvious he isn't fooling anyone with how much he's sniffling. "Something just got in my eye."

"Aish, hyung..." Jongho tuts, but he also sounds close to tearing up. "If you cry I'll have no choice but to cry too, and I don't like crying. It makes my face puffy."

San laughs, all wet and wobbly. He's in public for Christ's sake, he can't break down just because of some words. But Jongho's always had a way of saying things that get him teary-eyed and emotional. "I'm really not crying."

"And I'm not the cutest baby brother ever," Jongho states. "I am, by the way."

San chuckles, his chest unbelievably light. He pulls back, looking his brother in the eye. They're not blood-related, but they share a bond far deeper than that. He softly pinches Jongho's cheek, something he used to do a lot when they were both younger. "I don't disagree with that."

Jongho slaps his hand away, looking annoyed. "I told you not to do that again, hyung. I'm not ten anymore."

"Brat." But San is happy.

"Did you bring something for me?" Jongho soon asks, looking through San's bag.

San is about to reply that while he hasn't, he's more ready than ready to go buy the teenager whatever he wants when Jongho suddenly stiffens as if something just slammed into him, quickly releasing the bag.

"Jongho?" San promptly springs into action, gripping onto the boy's shoulders. "Jongho, are you okay? Answer me."

Jongho doesn't reply. He doesn't even look in San's direction, his normally excitable brown eyes now scarily vacant.

San tries to shake the boy out of his stupor, all to no avail. "Jongho, can you hear me? Jongho!"

The boy rises to his feet, rigid and robotic. He proceeds to start walking down the stairs, while San hurries after him, his thoughts and emotions in disarray.

"Jongho," San pleads, grabbing the boy's arm. "Jongho, please listen to me. I'm right here."

San hears footsteps, and that's when he sees a sight so chilling that he doesn't think he'll ever forget in his lifetime.

Up ahead and surrounding him are all sorts of people, children and adults alike, all caught under the same spell Jongho seems to be in. They span into the streets, faces blank and eyes soulless like a bunch of zombies.

San gulps, and faces Jongho again. He grabs the teen by the head, trying to snap him out of whatever trance he's in. "Jongho, listen to me. Listen to my voice, okay? Y-You're not being yourself right now. Come back to me. Please."

Jongho doesn't react, doesn't do anything that signifies he heard what San just said. He looks like a hollow shell of himself, like he doesn't know who San is anymore.

San feels like crying when Jongho yanks his arm off and keeps walking towards the rest of the brainwashed masses.

San prepares to run after him, but then a bag is being forced over his face. He immediately reacts by twisting his hands, which sends the perpetrator flying. He frees himself in no time, only to pause in shock when he sees Mingi in front of him, the man's eyes as blank as everyone else's.

"M-Mingi?" San questions. He lunges to the side and runs off when the taller's arms stretch to grab at him, only making it a few feet before Mingi catches and knocks him into the ground.

San, fearing for his life, shakes a bench out of its bolts and sends it spiralling at Mingi, which the man dodges with no issues. "What the hell is wrong with you, Mingi?!"

The man doesn't reply. He races at San, snatches his hands and shoves them into a sort of intertwined metal, the device's heat promptly forcing San to his knees in pain.

"Mingi..." San mutters but is then promptly struck at the back of his head by the man, the force alone knocking him out.

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San awakes for the second time that day encompassed by flashing lights so bright he instantly squints. He's weary, his joints sore and his head throbbing with pain.

It takes him a moment to regain his bearings due to how disoriented he feels, but when he does, he realizes he's stuck in a wide alabaster room and attached to a chair. Every one of his limbs is locked inbetween these thick metal rods that leave him weak and unable to use his telekinesis zia.

When San attempts removing his right hand, he's zapped by an agonizing heat that nearly burns into his skin. Tears immediately pool at his eyes.

"I wouldn't try that again if I were you," a voice enters the vicinity right then, deep and sounding almost too gentle. It puts San on edge straight way. "It contains shadow heat that can stop even the strongest of hearts."

A man soon shows up before San, his dark attire a huge contrast to the pure white walls of the place. On his head is a fedora which he tips at San like some sort of greeting, his terrifyingly icy blue eyes staring right into his soul.

"Pleasure to meet you, San," the man says, pulling off his mask and exposing a face that, despite how normal it looks, drowns San knee-deep in fear. "Name's Park Seonghwa. It's an honour to meet the sole living telekinesis user in all of Utopion."

His emphasis on the word 'living' has San's heart skipping a beat.

"Why...why am I here?" San questions, throat as dry as the Sahara. "Where am I? What -- what have you done to the others?" To Jongho and Mingi? To Wooyoung?

The strange man smiles as if he could read San's mind. "Hey, hey. One question at a time, alright?" He rubs his gloved hands together, blue eyes trained entirely on San. "First of all, you're here because I need you. Secondly, you're inside the room the Headquarters use for their cleansing."

San freezes. "I'm inside the Headquarters?"

"Mhmm," Park Seonghwa confirms, an absolutely entertained smile spread across his features. "It was quite easy to get in; quite easy to fool those bastards. Can you believe that they die quite easily, too?"

San gulps, staring down at the rods holding his wrists and legs in place, something which Park Seonghwa notices.

"I don't want you hurting yourself, Choi San," the man states. "We haven't even begun yet."

"B-Begun what?"

With this Seonghwa clicks on something, and soon the entire walls are filled with videos of the citizens of Utopion, every single one of them freakishly still as if waiting for a command. As if waiting for Seonghwa's command.

"What have you done with them?" San questions, unable to hide just how shaken he is.

"They're just asleep," Seonghwa says with a wave of the hand, leaning against the counter all casually. He touches the necklace on his chest. "Got some help from one of the Headquarter's lackeys on this thing here that helps me control thousands all at once. I think his name was Hongjoong or something."

San's insides boil with fury, recognizing the familiar name. Fuck, Wooyoung. "Let them go."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, San," Seonghwa answers, still fiddling with his gloves. "I've waited so long for this day to come. Waited so long for this city's retribution."

"Retribution?"

"Utopion is a terribly backwards city, San," Seonghwa clarifies. "Has been for a long, long time. You of all people should know how they treat people like us, how they treat people they consider villains. I had always been a good student. Even got accepted into med school with top marks, as I'd always wanted to be a doctor, you see. But then somehow, the Headquarters discovered I was a Mind Manipulator and I was promptly kicked out of the program. I lost everything, San. People hated me, shunned me -- " Seonghwa yanks off one of his gloves, a multitude of scars marring his skin, "burned me. I had to hide, while the ones with favourable zias got all the glory."

"And one day I just figured, if I was always going to be considered as nothing but a detested villain to the entire world," Seonghwa continues, "then I might as well become one. So I changed my name, cultivated my powers, and waited for the right time to strike."

San's blood goes cold at the realization that grips him right then. "Those people that suddenly killed themselves -- "

"Were all a part of my plan," Seonghwa declares, a broad smirk on his face. "It's insane how fragile the human brain is at times."

"You need to stop. You already had your revenge on the Headquarters, the people who ruined your life," San states, trying his hardest to free himself from his contraption using his mind. None of his attempts work. "You need to let me go."

"I will let you go if you agree to help me purge Utopion of the people who made life hell for the both of us," Seonghwa answers. "I know about your past, San. How you got that scar on your face. How no one listened or did anything even when they saw how badly you were hurt. And I know how your father met his end."

"You don't fucking know a thing about me!" San yells, only to yelp in pain when the sharp heat from the metal rods sparks up his arms.

"You just need to blow those heroes up like you did to your father."

"I'm not fucking doing that. You can't make me do it."

"Yes, I can't. You have a hala, a dark calamitous zia, and these zias can only influence, not fully control each other." Seonghwa swipes over the wall, and San's heart plummets when Jongho shows up on the screen, motionless amongst the bleeding bodies piled around him. Behind him, another person gets shot by a cop. "But maybe he can make you."

"Why the hell are you doing this?!" San screams.

"I've always wanted to see what it'd be like to see those superheroes explode into nothing but blood and guts," Seonghwa confesses, tone far too relaxed considering the contents of his words. "It's way more fun than making them end their lives. Don't you see, San? You're more powerful than any of those useless superheroes combined. If we just work together, the world will be ours for the taking."

"You're fucking insane!" San spits, but the man just takes out something from his pockets. It's something like a syringe, a little purple ball inside of it.

"A shadow heat pill," Seonghwa introduces, shortening the space between him and San in no time. "It's what the Headquarters torture villains like us with."

San cries out in pain when the man roughly punctures the pill into his neck, his muscles tensing at the unbearable warmth that slithers into his veins. "It'll keep you in check if you decide to betray me. Or kill you. Whichever one comes first."

San can barely breathe, his limbs like lead when Seonghwa releases him from the rods. He falls to his knees, trying to crawl away only for Seonghwa to drag him to his feet by his shirt.

"Come with me." Seonghwa hauls San out the door and down the stairs, stepping over heaps of dead bodies on the way. San has seen the Headquarters' dome enough on TV to know they're heading straight for the large field the superheroes do their training on before they gain their official title.

It's a late summer afternoon, yet the sky is a lifeless, dull grey rife with heavy clouds.

What is even more terrifying is the congregation of superheroes lined up on the same field, all awaiting their end. San frantically searches their faces for Wooyoung, but the man isn't there.

"Now," Seonghwa shoves San forward. "Work your magic."

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a/n: thoughts?