Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The moon is a swollen eye outside their window, unblinking and white.

“The devil is watching you,” Donghyuck says. He’s laid back in his pillows. They cushion his back, propping him up to a half-sitting position, and the light casts shadows across his face.

Jaemin can’t see his eyes because Donghyuck’s looking at the wall, and it’s out of his view. Jaemin wants so bad to go over and turn Donghyuck to face him, to see what he’s thinking when he says phrases like that, but he doesn’t allow himself to.

“I am the devil,” Jaemin says.

Jeno’s not here to protest that Jaemin’s not the devil, nor the moon. His bed is empty tonight. His sheets are folded, neat, as always. He’s probably being stitched together by the medbots right now, and the process takes at least overnight.

There’s better medbots now, or so Jaemin’s heard. Nanos that can be injected into the bloodstream and last up to three days, meticulously repairing any damage in hours if not minutes. They never get the latest tech though. The Arena makes a lot of dough. It’s the kind of money that Jaemin knows he wouldn’t be able to comprehend even if he knew the exact numbers, but little of it comes back to the facilities.

That’s expected. Even if they’re the ones making the Arena the money, it wouldn’t look good on the higher ups if they treated them too well.

Jeno could be out for two days this time, Donghyuck said. Jaemin couldn’t make it to watch him today, and he regrets it, even though his presence wouldn’t have changed the outcome. They try to be there for each other when they can. He wasn’t really afraid. He’s never afraid for Jeno, who’s the strongest of them and who’s been here almost as long as Jaemin and Donghyuck. He knows how to survive better than anyone, and he’s better equipped for it than most. Jaemin counts on that.

When Donghyuck came to him earlier and said, “He got cut real bad across the chest”, Jaemin hid how his heart leapt up into his throat. He broke it down logically. The words were an accusation, as if it was his fault because he hadn’t been there, but if something worse had happened, Donghyuck wouldn’t have come to him with accusations.

Donghyuck wouldn’t have been there at all.

“He won,” Jaemin said. A statement, because Jeno could not have lost.

Donghyuck nodded, but he was still displeased.

“I couldn’t have come. You know that.”

Donghyuck shook his head. He understood, and that was the part that made him the angriest. “I know,” he said at last, softly.

Jaemin watches moonlight wash over the side of Donghyuck’s cheek. He’s thinner than he should be. He skips meals sometimes, even though he shouldn’t. Jaemin doesn’t let him when he’s watching, but Jaemin can’t always watch him. Donghyuck says it makes him lighter, faster, but Jaemin thinks he just can’t be bothered. Even though Donghyuck’s got the strongest fire for life, on nights like this he looks like he’s about to vanish. Jaemin’s always afraid that Donghyuck will one day slip through his fingers.

If Jeno was here, he would say the system is the devil. The system has always been the devil, he would say, all conviction.

What Jeno doesn’t realize, Jaemin thinks, is that by now they are all part of the system.

The new boy is dragged in at 3am, on one of the hottest nights of the summer. The aircon in their wing of the building has been broken for months, and at this point Jaemin has given up hope that it’ll be fixed before summer’s over. If it’s ever fixed.

It’s so hot that none of them have fallen asleep, even Donghyuck, who usually knocks out the moment he hits his bed.

Even if they weren’t awake, they would have been the moment the door clicked as it unlocked, if they weren’t woken up before that by the sounds of footsteps.

The watch, wary, as light floods the room from the guard dogs’ flashers. They call all the personnel that watch them in the building dogs, except the doctors and the workers hired for the menial tasks the dogs don’t do—cooking their meals, cleaning, and the like. Dogs are not military, and they’re not government, at least not officially. The Arena is government sanctioned, but it isn’t supposed to be government run. So their keepers aren’t soldiers, but they’re trained, and they heel, roll over, and kill on command.

So they call them dogs.

It’s never a good thing when a dog comes knocking. Worse if it’s the middle of the night.

The three of them relax when the boy is pulled in after the first dog enters. A new boy could be bad news too, but Jaemin isn’t worried. They understand the rules they play by among their own, and the boy is new, fresh blood. Even if he wasn’t, Jaemin would feel no fear. He’s been here too long.

The boy comes in without resistance. He hangs limply in the arms of two of the dogs. He’s not even handcuffed.

He’s a thin, waifish thing. He looks fragile, like Jaemin could snap him in two.

Mud smeared across his face and shirt is the only sign of a struggle. That and a bruise on his cheek, already purpling. Jaemin doesn’t think he fought. Ran maybe, and got beaten for it.

It’s not like Jeno, who fought the dogs from the moment they got him until they threw him in the room. They had to gag him and manacle his feet and hands because handcuffs weren’t enough. One of the dogs that threw him in had been bleeding on the side of the head. They tossed him in with the keys, and it had been Jaemin that unlocked the manacles and undid the bindings.

It’s not like Donghyuck, who came in crying and pleading, telling some sob story about his poor mother who needed him. When one of the dogs—a new one to be fair—came closer to try to console him, he smashed his head against the dog’s nose. The dog reeled away, clutching his nose, rivulets of red running between his fingers, and Donghyuck laughed, mad and wild.

This boy looks defeated already. His eyes are downcast. The dogs let him go, and it’s not an act like Donghyuck’s. He doesn’t try to fight, doesn’t even look at the dogs, as they begin to file out the door. His arms fall to his sides, as limp as before.

“Fresh meat for you boys,” the last of the dogs says, before he closes the door.

Jaemin can already tell this boy won’t last long.

Somehow, whoever’s taken their fourth bunk hasn’t. Maybe it’s cursed.

“I love fresh meat,” Donghyuck says. “Wish they’d serve that for lunch sometimes.” They do serve it for lunch. Donghyuck’s just playing with the new boy.

The boy lifts his gaze from the floor and looks at them. To Jaemin’s surprise, it’s not the wild-eyed gaze of most of the newbies. Jaemin can’t tell if he’s afraid, which is a mark in his favor. The ones that are obvious about their fear usually get picked off first.

The boy looks resigned though. It’s not much better than fear. There’s no time for despair.

The boy moves toward the empty bed, the bunk above Donghyuck’s. There’s a slight catch in his gait, almost a limp. It’s another mark against him. Fresh meat’s never going to have it easy, and injured fresh meat? That’s practically an advertisement to anyone looking for easy pickings. Not hiding his injury in front of them is unthinkably naïve.

“That one’s mine?” the boy asks, though the answer is obvious. His voice is soft and a little musical. He sounds like someone who grew up far from the Arena, in places where they value politeness over initiative.

“Yeah, and don’t think I’m going to give up mine for you,” Donghyuck says. “I don’t care if you’re injured.”

Donghyuck’s decided to play nice, apparently. He could’ve not pointed out the injury and waited for the others to see in the morning, the others who aren’t quite as nice as they are. By doing so, he’s given the boy a chance. It’s not much of a chance given how small the boy is.

Jaemin’s not sure why this boy has been brought in, really. He’s pretty, sure, and would probably look good on the big screen, but it doesn’t matter how he plays on the screen if he can’t last a match. Jaemin’s not sure those arms could lift most of the weapons they have.

It’s not going to be much entertainment. Though there’s perverts that get off on that as well, watching the quick ones where it’s a slaughter more than a match.

Maybe that’s why they got this boy.

Despite what Donghyuck’s said, the boy continues toward his bed with the same uneven gait. Jaemin can’t tell if it’s deliberate or if he’s stupid enough to miss the hint Donghyuck’s given. Donghyuck looks across at the two of them, and shrugs.

There was a time when Jeno would have offered his bed, the other bottom bunk, but he’s been around too long to offer up those small kindnesses so easily anymore. Jeno’s thinking the same thing Jaemin is, though he probably hates himself for it.

The boy’s not going to make it.

Jaemin doesn’t even feel bad about it anymore. He wishes he could, but all he knows is that each time a boy like this comes in, it means he, Jeno, and Donghyuck will survive longer.

“Maybe you want to get washed up first,” Jeno says. So typical of him. Still the nice one, the white knight, even with his hands stained.

The boy lifts a hand to the mud on his face, as if he’s forgotten it’s there. The hand is slim, almost delicate, like the rest of him.

His hand lingers there, the mud getting on his fingers.

“Yes,” the boy says. “I should.”

“What’s your name?” Jeno asks, as the boy turns and moves toward the bathroom. That is one luxury they have here. Each of the rooms has a private bathroom attached. There’d be a lot more accidents if they didn’t have that.

Jaemin doesn’t want to hear the name. He remembers the names of all the ones who don’t make it. Sometimes when he closes his eyes, they run through his head, over and over again, a broken record that he can’t stop from playing.

It’s one bad habit he hasn’t been able to break.

“Renjun,” the boy says. “Renjun Huang.”

“How long do you think he’ll last?” Donghyuck asks, the next day.

In the morning Renjun was dragged out by the dogs, the way the new ones always are. The first day’s orientation, and all the fresh meat is given a tour of the facilities, the cafeteria, the gym, the training quarters, the pristine combat simulation room that’s kept up to date unlike the rest of the buildings. They’re given a gentle introduction to hell, school pep rally style, seated in rows of chairs in front of a raised stage, with the director of the Arena on the stage telling them of the great role they play in society, how they ensure peace and stability by providing the necessary resource of entertainment. Reminding them of the possibilities they have to rise to fame, fortune, and eventual freedom should they do well enough—and neglecting to mention how very slim the chances are of that.

The director always presents his assistant. Look, he used to be one of you! Look at the opportunities. He does not say that the rest of the ones in that batch are dead.

If you’re smart, orientation’s a good time to get the layout of the grounds. It’s also the best time to size up the competition. Fresh meat’s only going to be placed in matches against other newcomers for the first month or two, so they’re each other’s worst enemy. They don’t know that yet, of course, but if they’re smart they should at least have realized they’re competition.

“Two weeks,” Jaemin says.

He remembers how the dogs dragged Renjun out in the morning. It was like how they brought him in. He didn’t resist, and almost dangled in their grasp, more limp doll than human. He doesn’t have enough fight in him. Jaemin isn’t sure he has any.

“Two weeks? Generous. I’ll say a week,” Donghyuck says.

“They don’t even have their first match until at least the second week,” Jeno says.

“Exactly.”

“You want to put money on that?” Jaemin asks. He pops a piece of gum into his mouth. It’s not the smartest thing to spend his money on, the gum, but he’d argue that it’s the small indulgences that keep him going.

Jeno’s face darkens, but a grin spreads across Donghyuck’s.

“I’m in,” Donghyuck says. “How much?”

“200,” Jaemin says. It’s a large number for something like this, but he’s in a devil-may-care mood. He needs a rush, and if he can’t get it like this he’s going to do something worse.

Jeno makes an exasperated noise, but Donghyuck’s grin widens.

“250,” Donghyuck says.

Jaemin grins back. “Deal.”

“Jeno, you in? Want to make a bet?” Donghyuck asks.

“No. I don’t,” Jeno says. His face is still dark, and his eyes are stony as he speaks. He’s angry, though he’s hiding it better than he used to.

“You’re no fun,” Donghyuck says.

“I’m not putting a price on his life,” Jeno says.

That gets Donghyuck’s attention. He turns to Jeno, still smiling, but it’s edged with something sharp.

“There’s a price on all our lives the moment we step in here. So what if for once I’m the one making something off of it?”

Jeno shakes his head. “It’s not right.”

Donghyuck sits up then, and swings himself off the side of his bed, and starts pulling on his boots.

“Where are you going?” Jeno asks.

“Out. I’m so sick of you and your holier-than-thou attitude,” he sneers, and stalks over to the door. “The bet’s still on, right, Jaemin?”

Jaemin raises a thumbs up.

“At least someone here doesn’t have his head stuck up his ass,” Donghyuck says, and then he’s out. He slams the door behind him.

It used to be Jaemin and Donghyuck, the two of them against the world.

Jaemin can’t say he trusted Jeno at first, not the way Donghyuck did. It’s a funny thing, really. Donghyuck’s usually the less trusting out of the two of them, even though he’s better at pretending he isn’t.

It was an instinct, probably.

The same kind of instinct that made Jaemin say yes when Donghyuck, a smear of blood still on his forehead from smashing it against the dog’s face, eyes mad and wild, asked, “Want to be friends? You don’t look like the other losers here.”

They learn to hone their instincts pretty quickly in the Arena. Those who don’t have the instincts to differentiate between friend and foe, between strong and weak, don’t last long. And if their instincts are wrong, well, the ending is the same.

Jaemin has been around the longest by a couple months, but Donghyuck has the best instincts. Jaemin’s an observer, and he’s good at it. He has to be when he’s been around so long. His instincts are built on split second analyses. Each time he meets someone new, he’s putting details to memory, noting weaknesses play by play from the moment they enter his sight—the tilt of a hip, a nervous tick, certain words they emphasize or don’t.

Donghyuck’s instincts come from his gut, so in the end, no matter how fast Jaemin has gotten at taking in a new situation, Donghyuck makes decisions faster. It also means he doesn’t always make the best decision, but he doesn’t care. He has some madness in him, but in him, it makes him brilliant.

And that’s what Jaemin’s there for. He reels Donghyuck back and Donghyuck pushes him forward. They’re a perfect team.

That’s how they survive.

So when Jeno was brought in and Donghyuck said, “I like your look”, Jaemin didn’t think much of it.

Donghyuck’s said it before, once or twice. Those times didn’t last long. The last one before Jeno was cool with them at first, but he tried to rat on Donghyuck when he found out Donghyuck had more money than he should’ve been able to make from winning matches. Donghyuck smashed that boy’s teeth in during combat training and continued to kick him when he was down, again and again in the same place.

The boy didn’t come back after that. They shipped him back home because he’d need to live with a respiratory unit for the rest of his life and that didn’t look good on the screen. The biggest surprise to Jaemin was that he’d had a home to be shipped off to, but on occasion there were distant relatives generous enough to take back whatever was left of them after the Arena. Though they probably had been expecting remains, not a living boy. Unfortunate for them. If the boy had done well enough his ashes could have been sold for a lofty price.

Donghyuck was punished for that, but not much. The madness in him was part of what him such a big crowd draw, and they didn’t want to beat it out of him. Jokes on them. Jaemin didn’t think they could beat it out of him.

They took away the winnings from Donghyuck’s last two matches, and pushed him down a couple ranks, not enough to matter. They didn’t even whip him, or break a finger or two like they would’ve done to most anyone else.

From first impression, Jaemin couldn’t tell what Donghyuck saw in Jeno. He had muscles and strength, that was for sure. Guts too, to fight the dogs so viciously when he didn’t know what they could do to him. He liked that Jeno busted up one of the dogs. But Jeno couldn’t have been the sharpest tool in the box to draw the dogs’ attention by doing that, before he’d been even a day in the Arena. Or he’d really thought he could beat them and escape, which would make Jaemin doubt his intelligence more.

At least Jeno was smart enough to be wary of Jaemin and Donghyuck, as Jaemin was wary of him. He was civil toward them but not warm for the first couple days, and that was a lot of fun for Jaemin because Donghyuck had become increasingly offended that Jeno wasn’t moved by his charm. Though like Jaemin, some kind of instinct must have hit Jeno in the end, because not much later he accepted Donghyuck’s offer of friendship.

Jaemin didn’t make the same offer. He waited, and watched.

Jaemin sees Renjun across the cafeteria. He looks even smaller in the black shirts they have the newbies wearing. They can buy other clothes at the Exchange, but no one comes into the Arena with money. Some of the fresh meat has grouped together. It’s smart, if they choose their groups wisely.

Renjun sits by himself.

The display across the top of the cafeteria has been going through the top 20 ranks of the month. Jeno’s name and his face, a grisly shot with blood splattered across his front, fills the display, the words ‘Rank 2, 31.762 million votes’ running across the bottom in flashing letters.

Heads turn to look at Jeno, who winces and pulls his hood up further over his head. Not all the glances are friendly, but there’s no one among those who would want to challenge Jeno. Jaemin’s not worried.

He does feel a bit sorry for Jeno as the display starts running through a video montage of Jeno in the last match, so to distract him, he nudges Jeno and jerks his head toward Renjun.

“He’s by himself,” Jaemin says.

“That’s not good,” Jeno says, distracted as Jaemin hoped. If Renjun’s by himself, it’s likely that he’s either completely given up or the others have decided it’s not worth forming an alliance with him. Neither is a good sign.

Jaemin picks up his lunch tray.

“You’re going over?” Jeno asks, surprised.

“I’ve got to protect my investment. Two weeks, remember?”

Jeno shakes his head and goes back to his meal. Jaemin can tell Jeno wants to come with him, but he doesn’t. He’s too noticeable, and seeming like his ally could protect Renjun, or it could put a target on his back for all the people who want to take Jeno down a notch but are too afraid to.

Jeno’s always had a thing for these types that seem like they won’t last long. Donghyuck calls it his fatalist kink, when he wants to make Jeno mad.

Donghyuck’s not here to stop Jaemin from going over, and Jaemin’s never thought he had to play fair for bets. Donghyuck still hasn’t come to find them since he stormed out in the morning. Jaemin glimpsed him earlier when he passed the training quarters, hacking up one of the combat bots.

Donghyuck missed seeing his own image on the display. He is rank 5 this month, which means he didn’t get a montage like the top 3 do, but he got a freeze-frame shot. Donghyuck would’ve liked the shot. It was taken mid-jump so that his hair was flying across his face, and he looked almost feral.

Jaemin is somewhere between ranks 20 and 30, a place he’s comfortable with and where he’s been for a while. It doesn’t afford all the privileges of the higher ranks—better earnings from matches, unlimited access to the higher tech weapons and simulations in the combat room, donations from fans—but he likes the anonymity it provides. People don’t care much about ranks past the top twenty. Most only have eyes for the top five.

Because of that, Jaemin’s not sure he’s happy Donghyuck’s made it to rank 5. He tries to be because it’s what Donghyuck wanted, but instead he resents Jeno, which he has been trying not to do. Jaemin can’t help but notice how many of those around him watch the screen. Some of them have to be calculating their chances. It’s not that Jaemin thinks Donghyuck is less capable than Jeno. But Donghyuck likes fighting more than Jeno, and he instigates.

Jaemin slides onto the bench across from Renjun, and places down his lunch tray.

Renjun is putting a spoon of stew up to his mouth when he sees Jaemin. The spoon stalls for a half-second, and in that same half-second Renjun looks confused, but he blinks and the confusion is gone. So, he’s surprised but he’s doing a good job of hiding it. That’s better than Jaemin expected.

Jaemin rips apart the hunk of bread on his tray, dips a piece in the stew, and pops it in his mouth. “Just curious, do you want to die?” he asks.

Renjun puts the spoon in his mouth, and swallows the stew. He doesn’t look surprised at what Jaemin’s said. He doesn’t look like he cares.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says.

“The first day is the best day to find allies. You’ve probably figured out that you’re not going to make it here if you don’t find allies, but here you sit, alone.”

“I don’t want to make it here. I shouldn’t be here. I haven’t done anything,” Renjun says. Ah, denial. This is worse than Jaemin thought. Most of the boys don’t want to be in the Arena, but they all know why they’re there. So either Renjun can’t accept what he’s done, or he’s a liar. Jaemin almost picks up his tray and leaves then, but something keeps him in place. He doesn’t know what it is. Maybe it’s just that this lie is the only sign of fire that he’s seen in Renjun since he arrived. Or maybe he’s more like Jeno than he thought and he has some sick need to help the ones he knows are goners. He hopes not. If it’s that, it’d be a new and unwelcome development.

Well, he still has money on the line. He stays.

“It doesn’t matter if you should be here. You are here. Though if you say shit like that, it’s no wonder you haven’t made any friends.”

A corner of Renjun’s mouth curls up. It’s not a smile, but it’s not smug enough to be a smirk. It’s just cold and bitter.

“Do you have friends here?” he asks. The bitter amusement in his voice voices his doubt. Jaemin thinks about leaving again.

“Yes, I do.” Jaemin’s tone dares Renjun to question him, but Renjun doesn’t.

“Good for you, then.” Renjun finishes the last of his stew and looks Jaemin straight on. This close Jaemin can see his lashes when he blinks. The delicate cast of his features is even more apparent than from a distance. It stands out, and not in a good way.

“I’m just telling you, they don’t keep more than a thousand boys here at a time,” Jaemin says. “With your new batch, we’re more than 100 over.” 106 exactly. Jaemin counted when the new names flashed across the screen. He’s fast at that. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Jaemin doesn’t quite know either. He has the bet, but he only needs Renjun to live two weeks to get his money, and no matter what Donghyuck thinks, it’s not that easy to die in the first week. Unless he gets into some accident in the training, it’s unlikely. Jaemin doesn’t really need to be here.

“I wanted to give you a little advice. Since we’re roommates, after all.” That isn’t the truth, but it’s not a full lie. Maybe he is tired of seeing someone new rotate into their fourth bunk every couple of months. Jeno would be proud.

“I appreciate that, but you don’t have to help me. Don’t waste your time.” Jaemin can’t read Renjun. He doesn’t sound insincere or angry, just indifferent. Jaemin can’t tell if he honestly thinks he doesn’t need help, because Jaemin thinks that even with help, he’s not going to make it. Jaemin doesn’t want to think that way, but he’s used to making analyses like that all the time. He can’t stop himself.

Renjun exudes the same tired resignation as he has since arrival. Renjun picks up his tray, throws out a cursory, “See you later”, and walks away. Jaemin stares after him.

He hopes at least Renjun gets matched up with someone like Jeno, so that it’s over fast.

When Jeno was pulled into the stadium for the first time, no one knew his name. They didn’t chant it like now, or beat their chests and scream, shaking banners with his name written across it.

The ones below rank 100 still don’t get a name. They’re thrust into matches with a number drawn onto their skin and announced to the onlookers. So many of them live and die as numbers, but Jaemin thinks that’s better than them dying as their names and no one caring.

Jeno was pitted against someone in the top 50 that first match. Back then, they didn’t have the rules that put newcomers together for the first matches. Jaemin remembers Jeno’s opponent’s name too, but he tries not to. His memory is too damn good.

Because his opponent was top 50, the message was clear. Jeno wasn’t meant to survive. It wasn’t entirely unexpected. He’d caused trouble for the dogs, and they’d decided he was too much trouble to keep alive.

“I told you not to bash their heads in every chance you get,” Jaemin said. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was still something he hadn’t liked about Jeno, back then. Maybe it was just that Jeno fought, and Jaemin had given up fighting.

“I don’t regret it,” Jeno said.

Jaemin wished Donghyuck was there. Donghyuck had gone to hack up something in the training facilities, a dummy or a bot or another of the few boys willing to spar with him. He always did this when he got so angry he couldn’t control it, and both Jeno and Jaemin understood that. He’d been boiling with anger since he’d seen the match posted up. So he was gone and it was awkward because things were still uncertain between Jaemin and Jeno in that hazy realm of not-friends not-enemies. Jaemin couldn’t say, “I don’t want you die”, not in a way that meant anything, and he didn’t know what Jeno needed or wanted to hear. Or if hearing anything would make the prospect of death better.

He ended up shaking Jeno’s hand and saying, “Good luck.”

Jeno hadn’t needed the luck, in the end. His opponent had been a boy named Chenle, rank 47 at the time. Chenle had been young, and relatively new to the Arena, but he’d climbed up fast because he was good with bombs and not afraid to blow up half his own fingers to plant them. He’d been sharp, and a fast learner, and could have been a true threat after a year or more, but he’d gotten too used to opponents who weren’t used to bombs and were stunned for at least a second or two by the first explosion.

Jeno wasn’t used to bombs, but Donghyuck had told him about it beforehand, so when Chenle let the first one fly, Jeno rolled to the side and ran at Chenle while he was prepping his second. Jeno used the smoke of the first bomb as concealment. Jeno had chosen a great broad sword as his weapon, and he smashed the side of it against Chenle’s head with a speed and ferocity no one had thought possible for such a large sword. It wasn’t supposed to be a one-handed weapon originally, but in Jeno’s hands it was.

That one hit rendered Chenle unconscious.

When the smoke cleared, Chenle lay prone on the ground. The crowd was confused. It was over too fast, and there had been none of the blood and flash they came to see.

Jeno raised his sword up.

This revitalized the crowd, and a growing chant began to spread around the stadium. “Off with his head! Off with his head!”

Jeno stabbed his sword into the ground by Chenle’s head. He glared up at the onlookers with defiance and such hatred that if looks could kill Jaemin thought they’d all be dead.

The crowd burst out booing.

Later that night, the dogs brought Jeno back to their room. One eye was swollen shut, and when he peeled off his shirt they saw bruises all down his back, some of them closer to black than purple. His skin was broken in a couple places.

He smiled at them.

Jaemin watches Renjun while they’re eating lunch. He doesn’t go talk to him again because, one, Donghyuck’s back and he doesn’t want to lose the 250 if Donghyuck claims he’s sabotaging the deal, and two, what’s the use? Renjun still sits by himself.

Some of the other fresh meat’s got an eye on Renjun, which may or may not be good for him. He’s either ignoring them or doesn’t notice.

One of the boys in the midst of a group of eight others seems to come to a decision. He’s probably made himself some sort of leader given the way the others look to him. He’s a large burly one, more bulk than Jeno but less strength. The rest of his group’s thinner, smaller scrawnier boys, so it’s clear what he’s thinking of when he places himself next to Renjun.

It’s an offer, and one Jaemin thinks would be smart for Renjun to take. A group like that is a temporary thing anyway; the matches change those kind of dynamics completely. It’s temporary protection, and that’s good enough. It’s what Renjun should be looking for right now, if he has any sense.

“Looks like I’ll be getting my 250,” Jaemin says, pointing a spoon in their direction. The bulky boy sidles up to Renjun, smiling and gesturing with his hands. Renjun’s not smiling, but he’s listening.

“It’s only the third day,” Donghyuck says. “I don’t know about that.”

Jaemin’s attention is drawn back to Donghyuck, as it always is. He watches Donghyuck tear a chunk off the piece of bread in his hand and chew on it thoughtfully. The bread is better than the usual stuff they get—they are probably trying to ease in the fresh meat—and he savors it with relish.

“You’ve got a crumb on your mouth,” Jeno says.

Donghyuck’s tongue darts out, missing the crumb completely but wetting his upper lip. It glistens with his saliva.

“No, here,” Jeno says, and uses his thumb to wipe the crumb off. It’s a casual touch, but Donghyuck leans forward just slightly, not enough that anyone else would notice, but Jaemin hasn’t spent three years watching Donghyuck to be able to not notice. He couldn’t not notice if he tried. Donghyuck is leaning into Jeno’s touch, and his eyes are alight with the kind of gratefulness, the kind of permission he affords only to Jeno. Jeno notices too, because his gaze softens and inevitably dips to where his finger touches Donghyuck’s mouth.

Jeno lets go. Jaemin doesn’t know how he can. If Donghyuck let him that close, he would never let him go.

Jaemin’s stomach twists, and he turns away. He pretends he’s watching the people around them.

“You see?” Donghyuck says. It takes Jaemin a second to realize Donghyuck is talking to him. Donghyuck is looking past him, and Jaemin follows his gaze back to Renjun.

The burly boy looks annoyed. He’s still talking and gesticulating, but Renjun’s not really listening. He doesn’t look cowed either, which is probably why the other boy looks annoyed. Renjun should’ve been one or the other, interested and grateful or nervous and afraid. The indifference is making the other boy look bad in front of his group.

In an effort to get Renjun’s attention back, the burly boy puts a hand on Renjun’s shoulder and leans in. He says something with a winning smile. His mouth moves slowly, emphasizing each word. It’s whatever he’s been building up to.   

Renjun’s face morphs into actual anger, which Jaemin is surprised to see fits him. He grabs the cup beside him and splashes what remains of its contents on the boy’s face. The liquid is white, so either milk or soymilk or the chalky grass juice Jaemin’s never seen outside the Arena. Though he hasn’t been outside of the Arena for years now, so what does he know?

While the white liquid drips down the boy’s face, Renjun spits at him, a glob of saliva that lands on his forehead.

“Good aim.” Donghyuck whistles.

It’s the spit that does it. Well, the liquid would’ve been enough. Even if the burly boy wasn’t angry, he’s smart enough to know if he doesn’t retaliate he’ll lose what standing he has among the other fresh meat.

But it’s the spit that does it.

In the next second, the boy’s on Renjun, knocking him back with enough force that they both slam into the bench of the table behind them. Renjun’s tray goes flying, the utensils, plate, and cup crashing to the ground.

The dogs posted around the perimeter are up and running. Fights in the cafeteria aren’t common, but fresh meat is an unknown factor, so they’ve been on alert.

They pull the burly boy off before he can do any real damage, but he does get one good punch in on Renjun’s gut. Renjun sits on the ground, one hand over his stomach, as the dogs drag the boy away.

Jaemin sees that Renjun didn’t try to get in a single hit back, and the dogs haven’t missed that either, so one of them says something to Renjun but they don’t take him out of the cafeteria like they’ve done with the other boy.

One of the cleaner bots zooms over and begins wiping up the spill, the orange fuzzy wiping disks at its base making a low whirring sound. Two claws extend out of the sides and pick up the fallen trays, metalware, and utensils, and place them into the box at its top.

Renjun picks himself up, still cradling his side, and makes his way out of the cafeteria. He doesn’t try to go for seconds to replace his fallen meal—they wouldn’t have been granted anyway.

The dog at the door eyes him, but doesn’t bother to pat him down. The pat downs are random and not really necessary. Though their security cameras are shitty, like most of their tech, there’s a lot of them in the cafeteria. They work well enough to catch if anyone’s trying to sneak out utensils or food. It’s why people don’t fight in the cafeteria. The Arena’s willing to turn a blind eye to a lot of things, but not if it’s recorded too clearly on cam. People learn the blind spots of the cams—there’s a lot of them—or go where cams aren’t allowed by regulation for their fights. It’s why the locker rooms can get dangerous.

The dog waves at Renjun to pass, and he goes.

The second night after Jeno’s first match, they sent him a video. It popped up as a notification on the shared screen that covered half their room, where they got summons and announcements.

The thumbnail had been Chenle’s icon, the headshot of him taken for the matches. It had the bad lighting of ID photos, as if the photographer had deliberately tried to make it as unflattering as possible. If Chenle got more popular, it would be replaced by a picture of him from during a match.

Jeno pressed play while the three of them stood before the screen. At first it seemed like the video wasn’t playing. The screen stayed dark, until the noises began.

The noises were muffled, and Jaemin moved to raise the volume, but Jeno stopped him. The noises became clearer as a spot of light appeared on the screen. The camera panned toward the light, and the noises solidified into words.

“Please no. Please.”

The light came from a single lit blub, illuminating Chenle. Chenle was dangling from a rope that tied his wrists and legs together, attached to some contraption they couldn’t see that pulled him inch by inch toward a spinning iron plate in the wall. The spinning plate was taller than Chenle’s body, and ringed with jagged edges.

“No. no. Please,” Chenle was saying. “Not like this.”

“You should have died in the Arena,” a disembodied voice said. “We must all pay our dues.”

“I wish I had died there,” Chenle said. It was the last thing he said.

The ropes jerked him forward, and the screaming began.

Jaemin watched long enough to see the spinning plate cut into Chenle’s body, right along the middle. It flayed his nose into two halves, splitting cartilage. Jaemin turned away.

Even through the screaming he could hear the tearing of muscles and tendon, and the crunch of bone.

Only Jeno watched the whole video, his hands clenched in fists at his sides, face and knuckles white. He watched as if he owed it to Chenle to witness his last moments.

The screaming cut off abruptly, but the tearing and crunching continued for a long time. When that ended, the only sound left was the whirring of the plate. Jaemin chanced a look up, which was a mistake.

The two halves dangled in the air, moving past the blade. The cut was so clean that it took a minute for blood and guts to start spilling down between the halves. Half of an intestine spilled out, hanging out of the open cavity that used to be a belly. Jaemin thought he saw one half of a tongue.

The contraption holding Chenle, no, holding the body that used to be Chenle, released him, and the two halves fell into darkness, landing somewhere with a sick, wet thump.

Jaemin and Donghyuck looked at each other. Jaemin wondered if he looked as sick as he felt. Jeno’s eyes were fixed on the screen.

The camera panned down, and Jaemin turned away fast. He caught a glimpse of the twisted limbs, the halves lying side by side almost as if placed by an artist, painted with red. Donghyuck made a gagging noise. They saw their share of gore in the Arena, but this was different.

Someone had overlaid the last shot with soft piano music. It faded out as the screen went to black.

Jeno stood there in front of it, unmoving. Jaemin and Donghyuck didn’t dare say a word.

Then Jeno howled and slammed his fist into the screen. Even though it was double-backed crystal, it cracked where Jeno’s fist struck. Jaemin felt too sick to marvel at Jeno’s inhuman strength. Jeno stood there, his fist planted in the screen, breathing heavily.

“This place is wrong. It’s all wrong,” he said.

Jaemin watched him warily. Jeno felt like a wounded beast, and Jaemin wasn’t sure if in his pain he’d lash out at them too. He’d seen similar things happen before.

But Donghyuck wasn’t afraid. With a gesture at Jaemin to do the same, he approached Jeno.

Jaemin couldn’t stop him, even if he knew how to.

Donghyuck gingerly put one arm on Jeno, and when Jeno didn’t try to snap it in half, wrapped both of them around him. Even though his senses told him not to, Jaemin took a deep breath and walked over to them. He put his arms around both of them. With his arms around them, Jaemin could feel Jeno shaking and Donghyuck holding him tight.

Jeno was so strong, yet so fragile, Jaemin remembered thinking at that time.

“I know,” Donghyuck said into Jeno’s hair. “I know.”

“It’s all wrong.”

It was the first time Jaemin saw Jeno cry. He’s never seen him cry since.

Renjun gets back later than the rest of them. It’s his fifth day in, and Jaemin’s two days away from winning the bet, but he doesn’t feel the confidence he should.

Renjun made an enemy that day in the cafeteria, and as the burly boy hasn’t lost his following—in fact, he’s gained a couple more—that means they’re all his enemy. They watch Renjun now, in a way that reminds Jaemin of a pack of slavering hound dogs. Jaemin isn’t sure Renjun notices, but if he doesn’t notice he doesn’t deserve to be told. He’s marked now, and that means if anyone had thought of being allies with him before, they won’t approach him now, not until they see how it plays out.

Renjun’s alone, and he gets back later and later.

Jaemin knows that they keep the fresh meat on schedule for the first five days. It’s more organized than back when they threw him in, and expected them to figure out the facilities and train by themselves for the first couple weeks, while dodging harassment from the boys who’d been in longer.

Jaemin knows the schedule, and he knows that it lets out at the same time each day. The new bruises on Renjun’s arms are expected. They don’t get to spar the other boys during orientation, but the instructors don’t take it easy on them. For Renjun’s sake, Jaemin hopes he remembers what the instructors tell them, and what they’ve done in their sessions. It’s the only time they’ll get instruction until they can earn money to pay for more, if they’re willing to spend money on that, and a good time to run through the different basic weapons. There’s a lot of weapons, and choosing the right one is essential.

Orientation’s a good time to make that choice, or get close to it, since it’s a waste of training time to flip flop between different weapons. The smartest move is to figure out your weapon of choice during orientation without the others finding out what it is, though not many of them have the foresight to do that.

Jaemin supposes it’s possible that Renjun has made some allies and is late because they’re conferring. Somehow, he doubts it. The new bruises on the side of Renjun’s neck say otherwise. They’re fresh, and the instructors don’t go for the head.

He thinks about asking about it, but Donghyuck gets there first.

“Made a new friend?” Donghyuck asks, sitting up with enough of a leer that Renjun knows what he means.

“I guess,” Renjun says.

When it becomes clear Renjun’s not going to offer any more information about why there’s a line of purpling hickeys down the side of his neck, Donghyuck flops back down in bed.

“I didn’t think you were the type,” Donghyuck says. Jaemin hadn’t either, and it’s so rare that both of them read someone wrong that he feels a sense of unease. It passes quickly. “No offense, but I thought you were more of a prude like Jeno here. I had to train him out of that.”

“Donghyuck,” Jeno says, looking scandalized. Jaemin doesn’t think Jeno’s ever really been a prude, but he likes to keep his affairs private.

“Maybe I used to be,” Renjun says. “So you’re not wrong.”

Donghyuck laughs at that. “I get it. You got to experience life while you can.” The implication is clear, and with their bet still on, there’s a double-meaning there—Donghyuck’s ‘while you can’ means for the next 2 days, though Renjun doesn’t know that. Donghyuck almost made a mistake in his match a day ago, and it’s made him irritable. He wouldn’t have been so blunt otherwise.

Jeno’s voice is dangerous when he says, “Donghyuck.”

Renjun must know what Donghyuck means too, if not the projected timeline. But he just shrugs and moves to climb up to the top bunk. His limp is gone now. “Guess so.”

Donghyuck sits up again at that.

“You know I just said you’re going to die, right?” Donghyuck says. He’s in that mood, then. The kind where he pushes buttons on purpose, trying to get someone to lash out at him, just so he can have the satisfaction of lashing out back.

Renjun pulls his blankets over himself and rolls over.

“We all die sometime,” he says.

Donghyuck’s mouth drops open. He’s a survivor, and he’d do anything to keep living, to keep all three of them living, so he doesn’t comprehend. Jaemin can tell it’s making his mood worse.

“Donghyuck, come on,” Jeno says, softer this time.

“So you’ve given up, is that it?” Donghyuck gets off his bed and starts to climb up the ladder to Renjun’s bunk. Jaemin half rises in his own bunk, but he knows it’d take too much time to get over there to do any good. Donghyuck pulls Renjun’s covers off. “Then get out of this bed. This should belong to someone that’s trying to live, not a little pissant that’s going to roll over and die. You don’t deserve this bed, or a space in our room.”

Renjun grabs for his covers, but Donghyuck’s faster. He snatches them off and dumps them unceremoniously to the floor. “That’s where you should be sleeping.”

Renjun stares at him, angry for once instead of indifferent, but it’s not really smart to get angry at Donghyuck if you’re fresh meat. “You’re the ones betting on how long I’m going to live,” he snarls.

Donghyuck freezes, and Jaemin does too. Jeno looks pained.

“How did you know?”

Renjun barks out a sound. It’s not really a laugh. “I guessed. But now I know.” The disdain he regards them with makes Jaemin want to curl up and hide.

“Don’t take it personally,” Jaemin tries.

“Don’t worry about it,” Renjun says. “If it makes you feel better, you’re not the only ones. There’s a lot of bets going on and they talk about it in front of me. At least you tried to hide it. But you—” he fists his hand in Donghyuck’s shirt “—you don’t get to lecture me about giving up when you betting on me dying.”

Donghyuck unfreezes. He doesn’t pry Renjun’s hands off his shirt, and leans forward so that their faces are an inch apart. Renjun is unprepared for the sudden closeness, so he lets go. He leans away, but Donghyuck follows, gaze like a snake’s.

“Then prove me wrong,” Donghyuck says. “I bet you’d be out before the end of the week. Prove me wrong.” His voice carries no hint of remorse, and his eyes glitter. But when he climbs down, he picks up Renjun’s blanket and tosses it back up.

An hour later, Jaemin hasn’t fallen asleep, though he’s trying to. Donghyuck isn’t trying. He’s throwing a ball up and down with one hand. It goes up until it almost touches the bottom of the top bunk, then curves back down. He catches it without sound.

Jeno gave that ball to Donghyuck for his birthday because he remembered that Donghyuck talked about playing catch with his friends back before the Arena. It was remarkably expensive for an item so useless in the Arena, but Jeno paid full price for it anyway, the fool. It’s probably part of why Donghyuck likes it so much. It’s a reminder of who Jeno is.

A familiar feeling claws at Jaemin’s chest, and with the ease of practice, he ignores it.

Jeno and Renjun must be awake too, because he doesn’t hear the deep breathing of sleep. Jeno’s eyes are closed.

Donghyuck breaks the quiet. “So what are you in here for?”

When he gets no response, he tosses the ball up so that it thunks against the bottom of Renjun’s bunk.

“I know you’re awake. What are you in for?”

“Nothing,” Renjun says, sounding sleepy and irritated.

Even Jeno’s eyes open at that. Donghyuck scoffs. “No one’s in for nothing. Jeno’s here for beating up a police officer harassing his friend, I’m here because I got caught shoplifting one too many times, and Jaemin’s here—” Donghyuck’s eyes flick up to Jaemin’s for permission.

“Because I shot someone. Got them in the head, and they had to be put into an induced coma,” Jaemin finishes. He doesn’t bother to sugarcoat it, and doesn’t say it was an accident. The headshot was an accident, but he remembers not caring how bad he hurt them, as long as he hurt them. He’s reminded again that he’s the only one who deserves to be here. He fits the profile. He thinks of his younger self, young, reckless, and out for blood. He would like to think he’d make better choices now, but the only aspect of him that has changed is that he’s older.

To Renjun’s credit, he doesn’t project the scorn or judgment Jaemin’s used to getting once someone learns he’s one of those types.

“It was a gang fight. Inner city stuff,” Donghyuck says, as if that makes it alright. “Anyway, maybe you’re not in for something bad, but you’ve got to be in here for something. What did you do?”

“I told you, nothing,” Renjun says.

“You’re too good to tell us?”

“If you don’t believe me, that’s not my problem.”

The three of them look at each other. It’s the same spiel Jaemin got from Renjun in the cafeteria before, and it’s getting old. He’s got to be lying. There’s two criteria for getting sent to the Arena. One, no family in the picture. It doesn’t matter if that’s by death, abandonment, or disownment. It means most of them are runaways, strays, or orphans. Two, they’ve broken the law. How minor that infraction is also doesn’t matter. Jaemin knows someone who got thrown in for underage drinking.

Yet, Renjun doesn’t have a reason to lie. Claiming he’s innocent doesn’t do him any favors. It’ll make him more enemies than friends, and seeing as so many of the other fresh meat actively dislike him, he doesn’t need more of those.

“So if I do believe you, then why are you here?” Jaemin says.

Jeno and Donghyuck both turn to him, surprised. Jaemin’s not one to care much about newcomers in the Arena, a part of Jaemin Jeno’s intimately familiar with. There’s been times when Jaemin hasn’t spoken a word to their fourth bunkmate, or when he’s sabotaged ones he didn’t like. Usually to give the three of them a leg up, but sometimes just because he could.

This isn’t a question that will help his bet, or give them information they need. It’s a question of curiosity, and that’s not Jaemin’s modus operandi. Not with newcomers.

Renjun doesn’t appear to notice the shift of mood in the room. He sounds less irritated than before but very, very tired. “There’s a program. It’s secret, but more secret than I thought if you don’t know about it, with a select number of families that wanted in. My family is one of those. I’m the third son out of four, and the Arena’s upped the offer recently, so if I can quote my dear father, it was a ‘financially responsible’ decision.”

“What decision?” Jaemin asks, but he already knows. Damn it, he knows.

“They sold me here.”

Renjun doesn’t sound like he cares.

The first match is the hardest, for most of them. They come in knowing it’s kill or be killed, but they don’t understand what that means. No one really gets it, until the bright lights are on, the crowd watching with hunger, and you’re standing across from a boy you might have had lunch with a week ago. It’s him or you, you or him, and you see in his face that desperation to live on, and you know you look the same. That’s when it hits you.

That’s when it hit Jaemin, at least.

Back when he was dragged in they didn’t have orientation. They only had the director’s head buzzing on in the screen in their room, a low quality stream where his words didn’t quite match the movements of his papery lips. “Welcome to the Arena, my dears. In our hallowed institution there are only two rules. Win and live. Lose and die.”

Those aren’t the only rules, but they are the only spoken rules. And it sounds more dramatic that way.

They didn’t have instructors or sessions to orient themselves with weapons or the facilities. Most of Jaemin’s batch stumbled around the halls looking dazed, or holed themselves up in their rooms and sobbed, or became grunts for boys that’d been around longer.

Jaemin wasn’t like that. Despite knowing what he’d done, despite the feeling in the back of his mind that he should be doing some kind of penance, he wanted to live.

He wanted to live.

He found the training facilities the first day, and didn’t tell the rest of his batch. He chose his marks carefully, older boys that had enough skill to be useful, but were sympathetic enough not to use him as a toy. He flattered and lied his way into the their good graces, pretending to be more naïve than he was, pretending to be more pitiful than he was. Caught for smoking weed, he told them. He’d only wanted to try it.

He sparred with them. Each time they beat him down, he learned, until he could turn it back on them. When within a week he was the one beating them down, they didn’t want to spar with him anymore.

He learned from that too. He found other older boys, and was careful not to beat them. He was the clumsy newbie they wanted him to be. He cowered, said ‘ow’ too loudly, and let them jeer at him each time he fell on his ass. In secret he honed the techniques he got from them to a point. He slept only a few hours a night.

He was a shoulder to cry on for some of the others in his batch, including his roommate who wouldn’t get out of bed.

It was disorientating seeing that roommate across from him in the sunlight, armored up with the gun shields that would block bullets but not blades, and holding a sword too large for him. His grip was all wrong.

There was some hesitation after the match began, because they were new enough to hope that one of them would spare the other. They’d shared comfort and shouldn’t that have meant something? Maybe it did mean something, but not enough. Jaemin and his former roommate saw the same truth in each other’s faces. They both wanted to live.

That’s when it hit Jaemin.

It’s him or you.

You or him.

Your choice.

His roommate must have come to the same resolution, because he ran up, sword raised high, shouting. Jaemin didn’t need his training. His roommate was wide open.

Your choice.

Jaemin sidestepped him, and thrust the javelin in his side. It should have been thrown rather than stabbed with, but it worked. The javelin wasn’t Jaemin’s weapon of choice, but he didn’t want to play out all his cards in the first match.

It was over like that.

The first match is the hardest not because it’s hard to kill, but because a part of you dies with that first kill. It’s the part that holds you back, the part that tells you that life is sacred, that it shouldn’t be so easy to take away.

Or you choose not to kill, like Jeno, and in the end that part of you dies anyway, slowly and more painfully, while you sob into your friends’ arms.

The stadium is a nasty, gritty place, and though it’s cleaned to shiny precision after each match, never a drop of blood left behind, whenever Jaemin steps inside he feels like there’s ants crawling underneath his skin.

The spectators are here for the grit. They live for the heads bashed in, the dirty plays, blood and savagery and grime borne of raw human desperation.

The fighters are the same in a way. They’re their worst selves in the stadium, their ugliest base selves.

But Jaemin has always thought Donghyuck was the exception to this. Donghyuck looks alive when his feet touch the edge of the stadium grounds (or sands, or grasses, depending on the configuration).

He flies through the air when he leaps toward his opponents, and he laughs like a madman each time his blade hits its mark, and sometimes even when it doesn’t. His weapon of choice is a blade attached to the end of a long extensible cable, and he sings it in curving arcs around himself, so close that a fraction off and he would slice himself. Jaemin’s never known how Donghyuck got so good with a weapon no one else would look at twice, because it’s so hard to control that there’s as much chance of maiming yourself as your opponent. The craziest part is Donghyuck doesn’t look like he controls it at all. He moves it around himself in brilliant, haphazard motions that don’t seem to have any rhyme or reason until, with a flick of his wrist, he sends the deadly edge flying toward his opponents, cutting into an arm, an leg, or the neck.

Donghyuck’s matches last a long time. There’s a part of him that craves blood, Jaemin thinks, and it’s what makes him play around with his opponents, drawing blood here or there instead of going for the kill. He looks like an angel the whole time.

The spectators love it. They cheer for every cut he makes, and sometimes he flashes them his sharp-edged smile, the one that dares them to come closer so that he can do the same to them. The one that says he’ll eat them alive. They cheer even louder, not knowing what it means, but liking that he’s smiled at them.

Jaemin knows what it means, and he still wants that smile directed at him.

Donghyuck in the stadium is beauty defined.

The bloodlust, the life in his eyes, his flushed cheeks and lips. Jaemin has never seen anything more beautiful.

And when Donghyuck makes that killing blow and stabs through an eye or a throat, when Donghyuck snarls out his victory cry, Jaemin thinks he looks the most beautiful of all.

When the crowd cheers, Jaemin cheers the loudest.

Donghyuck these days comes out of matches glowing if he’s done well, satisfied as a well-fed cat. Or boiling with barely contained rage if he hasn’t.

It’s different from the beginning. The first time, Donghyuck came out shaking and shaken. He avoided Jaemin’s eyes, and avoided Jaemin for the rest of the day. Jaemin didn’t see him again until late at night in their shared room. In the darkness of the room, with his knees curled up against his chest and his head in his hands, he confessed to Jaemin, “I’m sick. I—It felt good slicing him up, Jaemin. I liked it.”

Jaemin could have condemned it. From the fear in Donghyuck’s eyes that was what he expected. Maybe Donghyuck wouldn’t have become what he is now if Jaemin had. But Jaemin didn’t. He wrapped one arm around Donghyuck and said, “There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re not sick.”

That night, after Donghyuck fell asleep, Jaemin ran to the bathroom.

He pushed his fingers under the waistband of his pants, and felt the part of himself that had been aching on and off during the day since the end of the match.

He couldn’t resist trailing a finger up its length. Before he really thought about it, he was moving his hand up and down, up and down, rubbing against himself. He told himself he shouldn’t do this. He told himself it was wrong. His hand didn’t stop moving. He built up a rhythm, one image in his mind, bringing himself closer and closer to the edge. Even if it was wrong, he wanted it so bad.

For a moment he imagined his fingers were someone else’s.

A warm liquid spurted over his fingers. He bit his lip to keep any noise from coming out.

Then he threw up a little in the back of his mouth, and cried.

He was the sick one.

Chapter Text

Jaemin sees the boy Renjun's with when he rounds the corner. He has an arm around Renjun's waist and is nosing at his hair. When he looks at Renjun, Renjun smiles at him, but when he doesn't Renjun's face falls back into that indifference Jaemin's come to expect. It's jarring enough that Jaemin does a double-take.

The boy is another one of the fresh meat. Jaemin sees why he can be with Renjun without consequence. He's not part of the burly boy's group. He's one of the big players in a larger group that’s formed among the fresh meat, the one with most of the athletic ones. He's tall and wiry, his build more that of a runner than a weightlifter, but he packs enough muscle to give the burly boy a run for his money. Even if he didn't, the burly boy wouldn't want to challenge that group. Not yet anyway, not until the matches have thinned out their numbers.

The boy presses close against Renjun's body. His hands wander lower, but Renjun laughs and pulls close to him.

"Not yet, remember?" he says.

"I'm tired of waiting," the boy says.

Renjun leans in closer to the boy, pulls him down so their faces are almost touching. His lips ghost over the other boy's when he speaks. "You do what you're told, and I will reward you."

Renjun licks his lips as he speaks, and the boy watches the motion of his tongue with hunger.

"You're such a tease," the boy says. He pushes Renjun against the wall then, and doesn't notice Renjun's grimace when the wall jars against his shoulder blades. He shoves his tongue into Renjun's mouth, and it's clumsy and rough. It doesn't look like a good kiss, but maybe Jaemin's wrong, because Renjun wraps his arms around the boy's neck and pulls him closer. Maybe Renjun likes it rough. When they surface from the kiss, the boy says, "You little slut. You like this, don't you?"

Renjun wipes the side of his mouth and pulls the boy in again. "I love it."

He lets the boy's hands wander over him as they kiss, even lets the boy squeeze his ass. But Jaemin notices that he doesn't let the boy pull his pants down even an inch. Though his shirt gets hiked up, and though the boy's popped his own zipper, each time the boy reaches for his waistband, he's pulled into another kiss.

"I think that's enough," Renjun says, after a couple more frenzied kisses. Both their faces are flushed, and he's panting. The boy reaches for him again, but Renjun crosses his arms. "I'm tired."

"Oh come on. Don't be a little bitch about this," the boy says, and pries Renjun's arms away from his body. He pushes his mouth against Renjun's and shoves his tongue in again. The boy sucks on Renjun's mouth, trying to get Renjun to move his tongue against his, but Renjun stays still. After long, awkward moments of moving his own tongue around in Renjun's mouth with no response, the boy steps away with a dissatisfied grunt.

"You're lucky you're pretty, or I wouldn't be so nice," the boy says.

For a second Jaemin thinks Renjun will snap at him, but Renjun smiles at him, all sugar and allure. All Renjun says is, "Don't be impatient. You do want your reward, don't you? I'll make it worth your while."

"Tomorrow," the boy says. That hungry look is back in his eyes, and he looks Renjun up and down the way someone might look at a prime cut of steak before they devour it.

"Okay," Renjun says. "I can't wait."

After the boy leaves, Renjun wipes his mouth again and spits into a trashcan. He stands up, brushes himself off, and starts walking down the hallway.

Jaemin catches up to him. "If I were you, I would've chosen a better kisser than that," he says.

Renjun jumps. He turns around, a look of panic on his face, but the panic fades when he sees it's Jaemin. He flushes.

"It's none of your business."
"I'm just saying." Jaemin jerks a thumb back toward the direction they've come from. "You could do better."

"I was having a good time," Renjun retorts.

"That was a good time?" Jaemin remains skeptical. "I doubt that."

"Okay, fine. It wasn't great, but it's not like I have many options, do I?"

Jaemin eyes Renjun. Does he see himself? With a face like his, if he makes it known that he is available and looking for it, Jaemin has no doubt that there's many among the fresh meat who'd line up at his feet, burly boy and his followers be damned. Though many of the fresh meat dislike him, they want him too. Jaemin sees that in their naive, innocent, hungry eyes. That's part of why they dislike him—they fear him because of what he makes them want.

But if Renjun doesn't know that, Jaemin isn't going to tell him.

There's other boys that aren't among the fresh meat that have their eyes on him. They're not interested enough to test the waters yet, but Jaemin's not interested in giving Renjun any clue to go their way. Some of them are dangerous. He's not afraid of them, per say, but if Renjun gets involved with one of them he could bring trouble back to their room.

"So what do you like about him?" Jaemin asks.

Renjun thinks a moment. "He's got good arms."

"That's it?"

"Like I said, I'm not picky."

Jaemin's not that choosy either, so he decides he can't judge.

Jaemin and Donghyuck walk out of the training practice room. Both of them are covered with sweat from sparring against each other. It's fun sparring against Donghyuck, if he can stop getting distracted by how mesmerizing Donghyuck looks in action. Donghyuck's weapon has a long range, but Jaemin's range is longer, and that gives him a little bit of an edge. He likes guns, though he'll go for a spear if he has to. Donghyuck has a spot of blue on the side of his shirt where Jaemin's bullet hit him earlier. He uses paint bullets for practice. Jaemin has a shallow cut on the side of his arm where Donghyuck's blade nicked him.

Jaemin always tries to make Donghyuck use his real weapon, though Donghyuck usually goes for a blunted version that'll give bruises instead of cuts. It's not the same rush.

Jaemin wants to fight against a blade that can hurt him, wants to face the true Donghyuck of the battlefield. He wants the adrenaline and the fear and the awe. And everything else too.

Donghyuck looks like he's dancing when he moves, a dance of death that only he knows the steps to. He moves like water, flowing easily from one step to the other. It's a beauty to watch.

When Jaemin can get Donghyuck to use his real blade, they stop once Donghyuck draws blood on him. That's the only way he got Donghyuck to agree to using his real blade at all. In the beginning this wouldn't last long. But Jaemin's got the hang of it now. He manages to drag it out, so that he can have this side of Donghyuck in private for as long as he can.

"5 minutes, 32 seconds. That's a new record," Jaemin says, pleased.

Donghyuck glares at Jaemin, his chest still rising and falling fast. A drop of sweat runs down his forehead, and he wipes it away with a towel. "If I'm sore tomorrow, it's your fault."

"You should thank me for keeping your stamina up." Donghyuck glares at Jaemin again, this time because it's true. He doesn't have great stamina because it never takes him long to finish off his opponents. He plays with them, not the other way around. When he fights Jaemin, he doesn’t get to rest.

"I don't get why you always ask me to use my real weapon," Donghyuck says.

"I want the real thing," Jaemin says.

They go toward one of the three locker rooms by the training facilities. The one they use is the furthest from the entrance to the training facilities, a habit from days where the older boys claimed the better locker rooms and wouldn't let any of the newer ones in. It's the emptier locker room, and they got used to it, so they stayed. There's usually no one there now, because it's still lunch hour.

As they get into view of the locker room, Jaemin spots Renjun and the boy from yesterday by the locker room door. The boy looks at Renjun and says something. They open the door to go inside.

Jaemin jerks his head, and Donghyuck sees them too.

"Is that the 'friend'?" Donghyuck asks.

"Yeah, caught them yesterday making out near the back hallway. You know, the one near the stairwell."

Donghyuck squints at them. "He's not that cute."

"Bad kisser too," Jaemin says.

Donghyuck snorts. "Unfortunate. I cannot relate."

They walk into the locker room. Jaemin fully expects to walk into the same awkward make-out session as yesterday. He can see from the mischievous glimmer in Donghyuck's eyes that he expects the same, and he plans to make it as awkward for Renjun as possible.

But instead of the sounds of mouth on mouth action, they hear a moan of pain. They rush over toward the noise, and peer around the row of lockers.

Renjun stands with his back against the lockers, his arms crossed. He watches as the boy he's with drags up the burly boy by the hair. The burly boy's eye is swollen. A dribble of blood runs out of his nostril and drips onto his upper lip.

"Ahm sorry," the burly boy slurs out.

Renjun's boy—Jaemin labels him as tall boy—slams the burly boy's face down into the ground. There's an audible crack, and the boy cries out. Jaemin and Donghyuck wince, but Renjun watches it without the twitch of a muscle. Tall boy steps back. The burly boy continues to lie on the ground. He doesn't try to lift himself up. He moans.

"There," tall boy says. "It's done."

Renjun walks over to burly boy, and squats down beside him. For a bizarre moment, Jaemin thinks he's going to help burly boy up, but instead he yanks him up by the hair. Burly boy's nose is bent in the wrong direction, and more blood runs down from his nostrils. Renjun cocks his head, his gaze curious and wide, as if he's observing an interesting painting. The burly boy watches him back through one wide eye. The other's swollen into a sliver. The edge of Renjun's mouth lifts up.

"Never ask me to be your bitch again," Renjun says.

The burly boy makes a noise that's half a moan and half a whimper.

"Yeah, he's my bitch," tall boy says. Renjun's face darkens, and his grip on burly boy's hair tightens, but tall boy doesn't see that.

"Is that a yes?" Renjun asks, pulling harder on the burly boy's head.

"Yesh," the boy manages.

Renjun releases his grip, letting the boy's head drop. Burly boy cries out again at the impact as his head falls against the ground, and Renjun stands up. Donghyuck and Jaemin duck out of the way as he and tall boy leave the locker room. Burly boy moans and whimpers on the ground.

“Looks like you’ll be getting your money after all, Jaemin,” Donghyuck says.

Jaemin remembers the day of Jeno’s second match like it’s yesterday.

Like he said, his memory’s too damn good.

The match itself wasn’t memorable, except that it started the legend that’s now Jeno Lee.

They didn’t try to pit Jeno against a high ranker this time. After the video, Jeno hadn’t fought with the dogs. He moved mechanically through the motions of good behavior, not because he wanted to get on the dogs’ good side, but because he didn’t care enough to do otherwise. He’d lost something.

There was a lot less fire, and a lot more brooding silence.

When Jaemin saw him sometimes, he had to look away. The guilt on his face was too much to bear.

Donghyuck tried to raise Jeno’s spirits, and it worked to an extent. When Jeno was with them, there were times when he’d laugh like he always used to, eyes crinkled into crescent moons, and it would seem like he could put it all behind him.

It didn’t last though. The laughter was a temporary spell, and when he was alone, the spell was broken.

Maybe that was when Donghyuck started seeing Jeno in a special light. They spent a lot of time together, the two of them, Donghyuck talking, cajoling, yelling at him to get it together. Donghyuck tried not to leave Jeno alone. Jaemin joined them sometimes.

“It’s eating him alive, don’t you see?” Donghyuck would say, when he thought Jeno wasn’t listening. Jaemin thought that yes, it was eating him up, but also hadn’t the Arena eaten them all up? Chewed them up and swallowed them down, and they were still mostly intact, weren’t they? Jeno would figure it out.

Sometimes Jaemin and Jeno were by themselves. Unlike Donghyuck, Jaemin didn’t have much to say. He couldn’t say to get it together, because it sounded false coming from his lips. He didn’t believe there was a getting it together. Something would always be damaged in Jeno, in all of them, in every single boy in the Arena. They were all fragmented, and not all the pieces were there anymore. In Jaemin’s eyes, wasn’t about putting it back together. It was about accepting that some pieces were gone for good, and learning to live with that.

Jeno wasn’t a big talker, so they often sat in silence. Usually silence would put Jaemin on edge and he’d want to fill it up with empty chatter, but with Jeno it felt comfortable.

One time, Jeno asked, “How can you live like this?”

Jaemin was honest. “You get used to it.”

“I don’t want to get used to death,” Jeno said.

That was when Jaemin thought Jeno was a different breed from the rest of them. Donghyuck was right to be worried. Jeno wasn’t going to get crushed by the Arena, or the hands of his opponents. It was his own hands around his neck, squeezing a little tighter every day.

“Look,” Jaemin said. “He’s dead, you’re not. If you let that kill you, you’ve wasted his life and yours. You’re living at the cost of two lives now, and if you don’t like that, you can pass that chance on to the next schmuck around here—there are plenty who would love that. Or you recognize that you’re still alive, and you can still make your life worth something.”

“Right, how can I make my life worth his death?” Jeno scoffed, sarcastic and bitter.

Jaemin grew tired of trying to console Jeno. “I don’t know. Do you think I have all the answers?”

“You’re still alive,” Jeno said. He spoke like Jaemin had done something wrong.

Jaemin rounded on him. “And I’m going to stay that way, as long as I can. I’m not like you, Jeno. I don’t care if my life is worth the cost of anyone else’s death, and I’m not trying to make my life ‘worth something’. I just know none of these other fuckers deserve to live any more than I do. I’m not dying for any of them.”

Jaemin waited for Jeno to fire back at him, to question how he could live that way and call him selfish and immoral. Jeno didn’t.

Jeno drew his knees to his chest. “God. I hate this. It’s so wrong, but I don’t want to die.”

“No one does. Funny how that works, right? We’re all the same here, we’d all choose our own lives over someone else’s. So don’t beat yourself up over it. Besides, if you’re alive, technically you can do anything. You can avenge his death, or something.” Jaemin threw out the last bit without thinking, half a joke. Jeno didn’t react much to it at the time. He just tucked his knees closer to his body.

It wasn’t until much later that Jaemin learned it was his half-hearted words that saved Jeno.

Saved Jeno, and damned them all.

Jeno’s second match was a normal one, low stakes, both competitors no names. But the stadium was packed. The scene of Jeno refusing to kill had gone viral, it seemed. Some had been moved by his mercy, some felt cheated and wanted to see him pay, and some were just curious. It amounted to the same thing. By the time of his second match, Jeno had gone from a nameless faceless entry in a match slot, slated to die on odds of 10 to 1, to the still nameless boy whose face played on screens across the country. Who was this boy who had beaten the odds and refused to kill his opponent, and why hadn’t the Arena done something about it? Everyone wanted to know.

Jaemin remembers being jostled on their way up to their seats, his mask pulled over his face. They had to come masked, in case they were recognized, and they always got put in a section at the top back, some of the worst seats in the house.

“I don’t remember this many people coming for my second match,” Donghyuck grumbled, but with little enough rancor that Jaemin knew he was worried. Jaemin remembers that well too, because back then Donghyuck worrying over Jeno had been new and strange and Jaemin hadn’t been sure he liked it.

The match was swift. Unlike the first, and to their great relief, Jeno didn’t try to spare his opponent. Jeno was brutal. He thrust his great sword through the boy’s stomach and out his back, severing his spine in half.

A gory, but fast death.

He killed without hesitation, and the crowd loved this Jeno who was not afraid to kill even more than their mysterious merciful boy.

That night, when Jaemin decided to turn in, he heard low voices before he entered their room. That night of all nights he didn’t barge in. The door was open a fraction, and through it he could see Donghyuck and Jeno sitting on Jeno’s bed.

“I don’t understand. You’re okay with killing now?” Donghyuck said, voice carefully neutral.

Jeno’s head was in his hands, so his reply was muffled. Even so, Jaemin could hear his vehemence. “I’m not. There’s no way I could be.”

“What was that then?”

Jeno shuddered all over. “I didn’t want to die. There’s no other choice.” His voice was small. He lifted his head and looked at Donghyuck.

Donghyuck moved closer to Jeno and cupped Jeno’s face with his hands, lifting it up so that they looked each other in the eye. “Good.”

Jeno moved his hand up as if to remove Donghyuck’s hand from his face, but he hesitated with his hand resting on top of Donghyuck’s. Slowly his fingers curled around Donghyuck’s, and he leaned into Donghyuck’s touch.

“Jaemin told me if I’m going to live, I can make my life worth something. I thought about that a lot.”

“Jaemin said that? Doesn’t sound like him.”

“I’m going to make my life worth the cost. I’m going to change this place,” Jeno said. His eyes were alight with a kind of determination Jaemin hadn’t seen before, a kind of determination that made Jaemin afraid because it made Jaemin want to believe in him though Jeno was talking about the impossible. Still, Jeno’s voice shook when he said. “Do you think I can?” Donghyuck could destroy him with a word.

Donghyuck pressed their foreheads together. “I know you can,” he whispered. Jaemin took a step back from the door. He didn’t want to see this. This wasn’t the Donghyuck he knew, who should have laughed at the idea of changing the Arena before tearing it to shreds.

Jaemin wasn’t sure who moved first, Donghyuck or Jeno. Maybe it was both of them. Jaemin will always remember the moment Donghyuck’s lips touched Jeno’s. Sometimes he tells himself his memory was wrong. It was just lips on lips. It’s not like Jaemin hadn't seen Donghyuck kiss someone before. With death looming around the corner and boredom looming when death is not, they’ve all had their fair share of fun.

But those were strangers. Donghyuck didn’t kiss friends.

In Jaemin’s memory that kiss will always be different. It was a perfect, tender moment that could have had a chorus of angels singing in the background. They fit together so perfectly.

Jaemin didn’t want to see it.

Donghyuck’s arms encircled Jeno, and the moment became less tender. They sought more than comfort in each other. Their lips moved against each other, and Jaemin saw Jeno start to move into Donghyuck’s lap.

Jaemin turned and ran.

He ran and ran.

He didn’t stop running, not when sweat poured down his back, not when his lungs ached and his legs grew heavy.

He still hasn’t stopped running.

When Jaemin and Donghyuck get back to their room in the evening, Renjun and Jeno are there. Jeno’s making small talk, and Renjun obliges him. Renjun has been less standoffish with them since they talked those couple nights ago, though he doesn’t put in especially much effort to be friendly either. It’s ironic, given that he found out they’re betting on his life, but Jaemin gets the feeling that Renjun appreciates honesty more than kindness.

Donghyuck strides over to Renjun.

“We saw what you did at lunch. I should give you more credit.”

Donghyuck leans in close, getting into Renjun’s space, and Renjun leans back from him. Jeno’s confused.

“What are you talking about?” Jeno says.

Donghyuck smiles, all pleasantness and cheer. It’s fake as hell, and Jaemin shivers at the performance. Donghyuck ignores Jeno, whose confusion starts to become a sulk.

“So what did you do to make him beat up that boy? It must have been good. I’m curious.”

Donghyuck runs a finger down the side of Renjun’s face. Renjun slaps it away.

“I know what you’re thinking, but we didn’t do anything,” Renjun says.

“Oh?”

“Well, not much. We kissed.”

“That’s it? Wow. Must have been some kiss.” Donghyuck whistles. His smile grows wolfish. “You’re an idiot. The one you’re playing with now is more dangerous than the one you got rid of. Unless, you’re not playing with him?”

Renjun looks askance, and doesn’t confirm or deny this. “I’ve got it under control,” he says, though he doesn’t sound sure.

As if on cue, a knock sounds on the door. Jaemin goes to answer it.

The tall boy is standing outside. He doesn’t bother to greet Jaemin, and steps into the room without permission. Jaemin considers teaching him a lesson he won’t forget—Jaemin can take him, easy—but decides it’s not worth it.

The boy barely notices the rest of them. His gaze hones in on Renjun. He might be salivating.

“I’ve come to get you,” the boy says. Jaemin hopes that’s not his idea of a pick-up line, because it’s very unsexy.

Renjun uncoils himself from where he’s been sitting by Jeno and Donghyuck. He walks over without hesitation, but he doesn’t say a word.

The boy snakes a hand around Renjun’s waist, lower than it should be. Jaemin sees the fingers of one of Renjun’s hands curl into claws then release. Jeno and Donghyuck see it too. The boy doesn’t.

Dull as his senses must be, the boy seems to sense that Renjun’s less than enthusiastic, because he says, “Aren’t you happy to see me? I’ve been waiting for this.”

“Of course,” Renjun says. “So have I.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

The boy puckers his lips and leans in toward Renjun, but Renjun stops him. Anger flashes across the boy’s face. His grip on Renjun’s waist tightens and he jerks Renjun closer. Jaemin has an urge to push the boy’s arm off of Renjun. He must be getting soft.

“Not here,” Renjun says, nodding toward Jaemin and the others.

“Oh come on, I know you like it when people watch,” the boy says.

Renjun tilts his head and looks up at the boy from under his eyelashes. “I’m embarrassed.”

That catches the boy off guard. “Fine,” he growls. He almost pushes Renjun out of the door. As Jaemin watches them go, the boy steering Renjun with aggressive force down the corridor, he feels like he’s sending a lamb to the slaughter, even though Jaemin hasn’t sent Renjun anywhere. Renjun’s maneuvered himself into this position.

Renjun’s back looks so small.

“That doesn’t look good,” Jeno says. “We have to go after them.”

“Why? It’s his choice. We don’t have a right to interfere,” Donghyuck says. “He probably doesn’t want us to interfere,” Donghyuck adds, wagging his eyebrows.

“Didn’t look that way to me,” Jeno says.

“Yeah, like you know him so well,” Donghyuck says. He’s still miffed about the scene from lunch, because his gut doesn’t usually misjudge that badly. If Jaemin’s honest, he’s a little shaken himself. He didn’t take Renjun for a manipulator. A bad manipulator, at that. Jaemin agrees with Donghyuck that the tall boy wasn’t a smart choice. However, Jaemin senses that it was borne of desperation, not Renjun’s natural tendencies. Like the rest of them, probably more than the rest of them, Renjun saw his clock ticking down. Jaemin can’t blame him for trying to change that.

“Don’t you want to see if you’ll win the bet?” Jaemin says. It’s a cruel thing to say, but Jaemin had the best view of Renjun and the boy leaving. Lust and violence aren’t so far apart.

Donghyuck and Jeno frown. They usually react differently from each other, so it’s funny to see them mirror each other like this. “You don’t think it’ll come to that, do you?” Jeno asks.

“Don’t know,” Jaemin says, and shrugs. At least, Renjun’s probably going to pay for refusing the kiss.

“Okay, okay. Let’s go,” Donghyuck says. Which is what he was going to say all along, Jaemin’s sure. Donghyuck can’t help being too curious for his own good. Even if he’s not particularly inclined to save Renjun from his own devices the way Jeno might, he’s very much inclined to witness the aftermath.

They trail Renjun and the boy down the corridor, around a couple of corners, and down two flights of stairs to an empty storage unit. It’s one of the larger storage units, originally made to store bodies and keep them nice and cold. Now most of the bodies are sent to labs right away, or burned and dumped.

The boy and Renjun go inside, and the boy doesn’t bother to close the door behind them. Careless.

Jaemin, Jeno, and Donghyuck slip in. They duck behind one of the tables, where they can get a clear view of the other half of the room. The smell of old chemicals makes Jaemin want to gag. Jaemin scans for cameras by habit, though this storage unit has been out of use for a long time. He doesn’t see any.

Waiting for Renjun and the tall boy at the other side of the room are three other boys. Renjun’s steps falter when he sees them, but the tall boy pulls him along.

“Who are they?” Renjun asks.

“My friends,” the boy says.

The three of them look Renjun up and down like a slab of meat, and one of them licks his lips.

“He’s pretty,” says one of the friends.

“I didn’t know you were bringing friends,” Renjun says. Jaemin thinks he might be afraid.

“When I told them about you they were so jealous. I just had to share.”

One of the friends scratches his arms nervously. “He doesn’t look like he wants to.”

“He looks like that, but he’s a total slut. He loves the attention. Don’t you, Renjun?” The tall boy slaps Renjun’s ass.

Something changes in Renjun’s demeanor then. His gaze grows dark and sultry, though Jaemin swears he still senses fear in there somewhere. He lets himself lean into the tall boy, and runs a hand down his arm. He sends a glance at the friends like he’s the one that wants to eat them up rather than the other way around, and it makes Jaemin go weak in the knees.

“Don’t tell me we came out here to watch them fuck,” Donghyuck hisses.

“Be quiet,” Jeno hisses back, while Jaemin shrugs helplessly.

“You know me too well. I love it,” Renjun says. As he speaks he presses his hand against the tall boy’s chest and presses him back against the table behind him. The boy’s friends are leering openly now, smirking at each other as if they can’t believe their luck. Renjun pushes the boy’s chest again, and the boy gets the hint. He scrambles onto the table, and Renjun climbs on top of him. “But I must confess, I wanted you to myself.”

Renjun straddles the boy, and starts to move his hips side to side against the boy’s clothed cock. He doesn’t seem incredibly used to it, but the clumsiness and the effort almost make it sexier. The boy leans back and appreciates the view. One of the boy’s friends starts palming himself. Another moves toward the two of them, but the tall boy snaps at him. “Get back. I’m first.”

The tall boy grabs Renjun’s hips and pushes him down more. Renjun lets him. The tall boy starts to tug down Renjun’s pants, though he has trouble doing that while trying to dry hump Renjun at the same time. “You’re such a damn tease. I should have done this weeks ago,” he says.

“The wait is part of the fun,” Renjun says.

Renjun leans down as if to kiss the boy. The boy closes his eyes, but Renjun’s eyes stay open.

Renjun’s hand arcs down. Jaemin sees a flash of silver.

The boy screams.

Renjun jerks whatever is in his hand and Jaemin thinks he hears something rip. It’s hard to tell with all the screaming. Renjun lifts his arm again. Jaemin follows the movement and sees…metal? There’s a fork in his hand.

Blood drips down the side of the fork.

An eyeball is skewered on the tips of the fork, the nerve once attaching it to the boy’s head dangling loose from its back.

Renjun flicks the fork and the eyeball flies off to the side, almost hitting the boy’s friends. They don’t seem to know what it is, because one of them bends down to take a closer look. He scrambles back, almost falls. He probably screams too, judging from the movement of his mouth, and it can’t be heard over the tall boy’s louder cries.

The tall boy writhes on the table, his hands covering his face. It almost knocks Renjun off of him, but Renjun maintains his balance.

Renjun moves one of the boy’s hands from his face. “Shh, shh. Look at me,” he says. The boy’s hands claw at him, but he’s not trying to hurt Renjun. Jaemin doubts he knows what’s going on. He keeps screaming.

Renjun cups the boy’s jaw with his free hand.

“Now there’s a good boy,” Renjun says.

He brings his arm down again. The fork stabs through the other eye. This time he doesn’t try to rip the eye out. He jams the fork in as far as it will go.

The screaming crescendos. Jaemin covers his ears with his hands, but he doesn’t look away. He doesn’t want to look away.

Renjun keeps grinding the fork down.

The screaming comes to an abrupt halt. The boy’s arms fall limp to his sides. Blacked out from the pain, or worse.

Renjun pulls the fork out and wipes the blood off on the boy’s shirt.

“Who’s next?” he says. The boy’s three friends run out of the room, pushing each other over in their haste to get out.

Renjun climbs off the table, and slips the fork back under his sleeve. There’s no triumph or pleasure in his expression, and none of Donghyuck’s mad wildness. He’s hard to read right now, but Jaemin’s good at reading people. Renjun looks a little relieved. He looks a little sick.

Renjun stumbles back until he hits the wall, then he slides down it. Jaemin notices that he’s shaking.

Jaemin hears the sound of slow clapping start up beside him. Donghyuck rises to stand, and he continues to clap slowly. “What a show,” he says. Renjun sees them and he stiffens, his eyes wide and petrified. Donghyuck skips over to Renjun as if a boy without eyes isn’t lying beside them on a table for corpses.

Jeno and Jaemin follow him.

“Are you going to turn me in?” Renjun asks. He makes no effort to lift the hand with the fork, or to stand. He’s still shaking.

“What for? I liked what you did.”

Donghyuck holds out a hand to Renjun. Renjun looks at the hand, then at them, with more fear than he had earlier for the tall boy and his friends.

Renjun takes Donghyuck’s hand.

Renjun leans on Jaemin as they head back to their room. He appears to trust Jaemin more than the others, since Jaemin gave him advice in the cafeteria early on.

Jaemin checked the boy’s pulse before they left. It was there, if faint. They left him there.

“The cleaners will handle it,” Donghyuck says with a dismissive wave. “If it’s not caught on cam, they don’t care who made the mess.”

“Cleaners?” Renjun asks.

“Yeah, cleaners. You know, clean the rooms, mop up the spills, dispose of the bodies.”

“He’s not dead though?” Renjun says.

“Unfortunately. But it wouldn’t have been a loss if he was. Scum like that have it coming,” Jeno says. Oh, how Jeno’s changed. Once he would’ve said that everyone deserved to live. Once he would’ve said anyone could be redeemed, no matter the magnitude of their sins. For a moment Jaemin feels like he’s seeing double, the ghost of Jeno-before interposed over Jeno-now. A more naïve, younger Jeno, who believes in the good of people, who says it’s the circumstances that made them this way, they can change! Is that Jeno still in there somewhere? This Jeno still believes in justice, in kindness to a degree. But Jaemin is not sure he believes in forgiveness.

“The cleaners will deposit him with the medbots if he’s still breathing, and they’ll patch him up if it’s worth it to patch him up.”

“If it’s worth it?”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like he’s any good in matches without eyes,” Jaemin says.

“What happens then?”

Donghyuck draws a line across his throat. Renjun’s eyes go wide.

“What did you think was going to happen? Didn’t you want him dead?” Donghyuck asks, with genuine curiosity. They’ve all been in the Arena too long, Jaemin thinks. Even Jeno isn’t disturbed by the idea of wanting to take someone else’s life, though in his case they have to deserve it. Lives are cheap.

Jaemin’s forgotten what it’s like for fresh meat. They’re fresh from the outside, where life is valuable and severe penalties are enforced for taking it away rather than refusing to.

“I didn’t want him dead,” Renjun says.

“You sure about that?” Jaemin asks.

“I just—I wanted to hurt him. Bad enough that he wouldn’t be able to hurt me if he wanted to. Bad enough that he regretted what he did.”

“You certainly did that,” Jaemin says, dryly.

“I wasn’t planning to do both eyes, but his friends were there, and I freaked out. If I didn’t hurt him bad enough, I didn’t know if they would back off. I wasn’t trying to kill him,” Renjun says. He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.

“But you used him, he became a problem, and then you wanted to get rid of him, right?” Donghyuck says, a bounce in his step.

Renjun’s quiet for a while. “Better him than me,” he says.

Donghyuck claps him on the back. “That’s the spirit. You’ll fit right in here.”

They find out how Renjun got the fork. When the burly boy knocked him over in the cafeteria and their trays went flying, he snuck the fork under his sleeve. He must have moved fast. The cams would have caught it and raised the alarm if the burly boy’s body hadn’t hidden it from view—more than one boy had tried to sneak off with utensils before.

“I wanted to have a weapon,” Renjun says. “Just in case. I wasn’t planning to use it.”

“How’d you know about the cams?” Jaemin asks.

“They tell you in orientation,” Renjun says. It’s like the Arena wants them to fight outside the matches.

Jaemin finds a boy waiting for him outside the locker room. He's met with this boy before. It's been a while since the last time he played with this one, but they see him in the matches and they want him again. That's how it goes.

He's been on the other end of that, so he gets it.

He knows he was especially good today. He dispatched his opponent with three shots. One to turn off the bullet shield from the glove on his hand, one right between the eyes, and one through the heart, to show that he can, not because he has to. He doesn't usually show off like that, but sometimes he wants that ego boost. He can't say he's immune to the cheers of the crowd. When he's done, his eyes always travel up to the top of the stands. To the two masked figures sitting next to each other, one in a bear mask and the other in a raccoon one. That's the only time he dislikes the masks—otherwise he likes them for the anonymity and because his is a llama and easily the best one. He wants to see their faces when he's done. Do they approve? Do they disapprove? Do they care? He used to care only about Donghyuck's reaction, but now he finds himself wanting to see Jeno's too.

Today they were joined by a third figure. The mask Renjun wore was too large for his face, and an ugly one at that. Clearly a throwaway mask given to the Arena to use as spares because it couldn't be sold. It might have been a chimpanzee, but it was carved too messily to be sure. Renjun would want to get his own mask at some point, but like most things in the Arena, it cost money.

Jaemin surprised himself by being curious about Renjun's reaction too.

The boy waiting for Jaemin is the scruffy kind of cute. The kind that in the outside world would probably have scratched up sneakers, go through an experimental phase where he tries to see how long he can grow out his hair before it isn't considered conventionally attractive anymore, and listen to some kind of music with lots of bass.

Jaemin pulls him into one of his favorite spots, one of the dark nap rooms where they can rest undisturbed by the other boys. Or their roommates, if they're having roommate issues. Jaemin's seen that happen before, where a boy harassed by his roommates had to catch shuteye in the nap rooms because he was afraid to sleep at night. He didn't make it very far.

The nap rooms are set up so that no one can use them for more than 30 minutes at a time, and no more than twice a day. There's a person that doles out key cards at a rate of 1 mark per card. If the key card's not returned by the end of the day, that's an extra 5 marks. If it's lost, that's 15 marks.

Jaemin doesn't know why they don't replace the person with a bot. Maybe because a bot wouldn't be able to send a scathing glare his way each time he'd turned up to get a card with someone else in tow.

Jaemin likes this particular nap room because it's been broken for almost a year now. It's not on the ticket machine anymore, so they're probably not going to fix it. Jaemin lucked out because there's some glitch in its system. An old key card he forgot to give back works on it, and he can stay for as long as he likes. Maybe any key card would work on it, so there's some risk of someone else walking in on him. He doesn't mind the risk.

It's not a place he shares with everyone, which he tells the boy. That brings a glow to the boy's face. He's not entirely Jaemin's style—too eager and unable to do much without clear direction. However, he wants very much to please Jaemin, and Jaemin appreciates that.

He is refreshingly earnest.

Particularly when he's sucking Jaemin off.

The night Donghyuck and Jeno first kissed, Jaemin found someone of his own to kiss. It's not like he hadn't kissed others in the Arena before then, but that time was different. The funny part is he doesn't remember the face of the boy he kissed.

It's especially funny with how good his memory is in general, and how well he remembers everything else about it.

Jaemin remembers the desperation.

He remembers saliva, clumsiness, and his tongue seeking refuge in someone else's mouth.

Most of all, he remembers how physical pleasure drowned out the voice inside him screaming at him to run and run and run and run.

He went to sleep satisfied, the void inside him no longer a craven black hole.

He woke up feeling emptier than ever.

The other fresh meat leave Renjun alone now. The story of what he's done has spread and magnified. The last Jaemin's heard, Renjun carved out the tall boy's heart with a kitchen knife because he couldn't give Renjun a good time.

It's a rumor that helps and hurts him. None of the other fresh meat want to touch him now, but he's drawn the attention of some of the boys who have been around longer. They don't believe the rumor first of all, because no one can get their hands on a kitchen knife. Only the chefs, behind layers of protective walls and security, have access to those. Whatever Renjun's done, he looks weak. They aren't afraid of him. Most of them probably don't believe he did anything to the tall boy at all. The tall boy's absence is noted, of course, but they don't believe it's Renjun's fault. More likely, the tall boy angered the dogs and got disposed of. It's rare, but it happens.

What they do think about is whether Renjun was looking for a good time. They take a look at his thin frame, his pretty face, and think about it. Jaemin's sure some of them have decided it doesn't matter whether Renjun was looking for a good time. What matters to them is whether he is a good time, and what it would take for them to find out.

Renjun starts to take lunch with the three of them. He was hesitant about it at first. He isn't sure why they take an interest in him, and Jaemin isn't quite sure why either. Renjun is straightforward about it.

"Why do you want to hang with me? I can't do anything for you guys," he says.

"You're interesting," Donghyuck says, as if that is all that matters. For Donghyuck, it probably is. Donghyuck follows his gut, which Jaemin understands.

What Jaemin doesn't get is why Jeno seems interested in Renjun too. Jeno would be nice anyway, whether he is interested or not, but he pays enough attention to Renjun that Jaemin knows it's past the point of politeness. It's not even Jeno's usual savior complex kicking in. Well, Renjun looks delicate enough that it might be partially that. But Jeno has seen that Renjun can take care of himself, and usually violence of that degree would put him off. This time he acts like it had to be done. Jaemin doesn't think that carving someone's eyes out ever 'has to be done', though he does think it's good for making a point.

What Jaemin doesn't understand most is himself. Renjun's intriguing in the way that fresh meat are. An unknown, a new toy! Usually that isn't enough to get Jaemin's attention unless he's really, really bored. He thinks part of it is how Renjun defied his expectations—he acted like he didn't care about living, but he hasn't laid down and died. Instead he's stolen forks and stabbed out eyes. He's weak but vicious and not keen to make friends, a combination that usually results in an early death, yet he's alive. He's a contradiction. Jaemin hasn't figured out which part is an act. Jaemin's probably interested because he hasn't figured him out. Renjun is a puzzle, and Jaemin likes puzzles.

Though when he solves them, he loses interest.

Yet Jaemin approached Renjun first out the three of them, before Renjun defied any of his expectations. Deep down, he knows there's something else there, something he can't quite put his finger on. It isn't his normal pattern of behavior.

Renjun doesn't have a particular reason to like them either, and, ok, it's too soon to say he likes them. But he doesn't dislike them. Perhaps Renjun understands that it's important to have the semblance of friends. They're good friends to have.

Being with them during meals means that all three of them have accepted Renjun. Some of the other boys have a personal vendetta against Jeno (the challenge of being rank 2), Donghyuck (there's enough of those that Donghyuck doesn't remember them or why they have a vendetta against him), or Jaemin (Jaemin's proud to say he is quite likeable and doesn't have many enemies, thank you very much) personally, but they're not likely to target Renjun now. Wanting to take down one of them is a different story from messing with all three of them.

Renjun stabs at a piece of chicken. "Is it just me, or are people looking at us?"

Donghyuck makes a show of looking around. "It's not just you, and they aren't looking at us. They're looking at you."

Renjun's lip curls downward on one side. Renjun pushes the chicken around on his plate. It's anyone's guess how the chicken has gone today—moist and bland, or dry and overseasoned. Jaemin takes a bite. Moist and bland today, it is.

"You should eat it," Jeno says. "You'll need the energy."

Renjun takes a bite with distaste. "They're not looking at me."

Donghyuck looks around again. "Trust me, they are."

"Say I believe you. Why would they be looking at me?"

Donghyuck spreads his hands to indicate Jaemin, Jeno, and with a grand flourish at the end, himself. "You're with celebrities now. That means you too get the lovely attention of the paparazzi."

Renjun makes a noise that sounds surprisingly like a laugh. He smiles. Not a complete smile, just half of one, but it makes Jaemin very aware that he hasn't had Renjun's smile directed at him before. One of his canines shows when he smiles. Jaemin's fascinated by it. "You're celebrities? I hadn't noticed."

It made sense that Donghyuck and Jeno's relationship would escalate. Jaemin was sure they were sleeping together, though neither of them said anything to him about it.

Donghyuck did tell him that they kissed, a week after the fact. He acted like it was nothing, ha ha did you know that Jeno's more of horndog than he acts like? Not that I'm complaining...

Would you complain if I kissed you? Jaemin wondered. He didn't want to know the answer.

Jaemin acted like it was nothing too. Some modicum of surprise, a nudge in the side, a niceee one spoken with just the right amount of suggestiveness. So how good is he? How did it happen? I thought you didn't see him that way.

Donghyuck's equally nonchalant response. What do you mean that way? He's just a friend that's good at kissing.

It happened when they thought Jaemin was asleep.

Jaemin heard the start of their fumbling. He heard their whispers.

"We can't, Jaemin's right there." Jeno, obviously.

"He's totally knocked out, he had a match today. Don't worry..."

He heard the creak as Donghyuck climbed into Jeno's bed, and the sound of rustling. A small whimpering noise, and a low moan.

Jaemin sat straight up, and hit the side of the wall with his open palm. It was satisfying the way Jeno jolted up like a startled rabbit.

Jaemin climbed down from his bunk and stomped over to them. "You want to fuck? You do it elsewhere or when I'm not around." Jeno's guilt pleased him, but his disheveled hair didn't. The top several buttons of Donghyuck's pajama top had been undone, and Jaemin saw a pale strip of his chest.

Jaemin stomped out the door.

They both apologized to him later, though it didn't make him feel better.

He didn't catch them sleeping together after that, though he saw enough evidence of it.

Even without evidence, he knew they fucked, because Donghyuck would describe it to him in graphic detail, and he'd pretend he was listening while he turned up the music in earphones to deafening volume. No one had questioned why he spent so much money on an outdated music player with an earphone attachment, and only 10 songs. He had a habit of wasting money on unusual items.

Donghyuck and Jeno don't call it a relationship. They don't call it anything.

Jeno says he's an outlet for Donghyuck's frustrations, but Jaemin doesn't think so.

Jaemin doesn't know how he saddles himself with the responsibility of training Renjun. It's really not fair. He had to wheedle his way into the good graces of boys he didn't like and grovel at their feet to get a step up on training himself. Now he's helping Renjun for free.

Him. Na Jaemin. Doing something for free.

It's a bad move on his part. It was driven by boredom—there's only so many hours he can run around by himself before he drives himself crazy—but it's still a bad move. No matter that Renjun's been accepted by them, he still has to prove himself. Donghyuck hasn't offered to help him. Even Jeno hasn't. Jaemin somehow, foolishly, makes this offer, and once it's out of his mouth he can't take it back. He blames Jeno and Donghyuck for leaving him alone.

All Renjun does is blink at him owlishly. He could at least be grateful about it, Jaemin thinks sulkily.

"Do you want to train together?" Jaemin repeats.

Renjun dares to consider the offer. To consider it, like Jaemin's not offering him an amazing gift, wrapped up neat and tidy with a fancy bow on top. If Jaemin wasn't so bored, he'd have taken it back already.

"I'd like that," Renjun says, after what Jaemin thinks is much too long.

It's much less training together, and much more learning that Renjun doesn't have any training at all.

Renjun really can't lift any of the larger weapons, so the big swords, clubs, and mallets are out of the question. Most of the ones he can lift he can't swing fast enough to make him competitive, and he's not used to the way he's supposed to move them.

"Did you learn anything in orientation?" Jaemin says, despairing.

"Didn't really get a chance to touch the weapons," Renjun says. "The others don't like me much."

"You didn't think that was a problem?" Jaemin asks. Jaemin hasn't been able to figure out if Renjun is smart or stupid, but he's trending down.

"It's not like I could do anything about it."

Jaemin sighs. "And you haven't tried to fix it since." He presses the button that opens the shutter over the next section of weapons.

Jaemin gives Renjun a pistol, and runs him through a series of targets, moving and stationary. His aim is ok, not great. Good for a beginner, but it's hard to say that's good enough for a match. He misses most of the moving targets.

"Look how I do it," Jaemin says. He sighs again, because now he's giving away his techniques. Something about Renjun makes Jaemin feel like it would be safe to show him how good he is. Perhaps it's pity. Jaemin's now certain that Renjun will never be as good with a gun as he is, no matter what Jaemin shows him. Jaemin sets a more complicated sequence in the target generator.

He hefts a gun in each hand. The sequence starts.

Targets flash across the room. Some appear at the same time. Some move in front of each other. Some are obscured by smoke, or flashes of light. Jaemin hits each one dead-center.

Renjun claps for him when the sequence ends. "Didn't learn anything from that, but very cool," he says.

"Is this a joke to you?" Jaemin asks. His voice is deadly. He doesn't take training lightly, and he doesn't like it when people waste his time. "Go. Again."

Jaemin runs Renjun through a series of sequences, again and again, until he's panting and red in the face. He doesn't get much better.

When Jaemin cues up another sequence, Renjun lies on the ground and spreads out his arms and legs. "This," he pants, and tries to suck in another breath. "Isn't going to work."

"You're not trying hard enough," Jaemin says.

Renjun indicates himself, the sweat, the trembling muscles. "This isn't trying hard enough?"

"No. You're not trying like your life depends on it."

Renjun continues to lie on the ground.

"Get up," Jaemin says.

"Can't."

Jaemin walks over to Renjun, and points his gun at Renjun's head. "Get up, or you might as well die right now."

Renjun groans, but starts to struggle to his feet. He rests a while in kneeling position, but Jaemin doesn't begrudge him that. He is annoyingly slow about it though, as if he doesn't really think Jaemin's about to blow his brains out. Jaemin isn't, but he keeps his gun pointed at Renjun's head, his finger on the trigger, marveling at how easy it would be to make good on his words. He marvels that he doesn't quite want to, despite how infuriating Renjun has been. Renjun feels a bit like a project now. Though the future of the project looks bleak at best, Jaemin has invested too much time (and money if he thinks about it. 250 is a lot) to give up on it yet.

Renjun stands up, but instead of picking up the pistol again, he walks up to Jaemin.

With one hand, he lifts his bangs. With the other, he wraps the barrel of Jaemin's gun in his delicate fingers and pulls it against his forehead.

"It's better if you kill me than dying out there," he says.

Jaemin recoils. He doesn't let go of his gun by habit.

Renjun raises his eyes. He could be bluffing, but there's enough fear there to make it real.

"Aren't you going to do it?" Renjun asks.

Jaemin finally gets himself to react. He pulls Renjun's fingers off the gun and lowers the gun to his side. Renjun's fingers hang loose in his hand.

"Not funny, Renjun," he says.

Renjun brushes his bangs back down over his forehead. "Sorry," he says, but he doesn't look like he was joking.

It's around this time that posters start to go up in the hallways, asking for volunteers to sign up for experiments.

10 marks per day, the poster promises. No other details are given.

Jaemin sees a few boys go down to labs, and sign up. 10 marks per day isn't a great rate, but they could all use a little extra cash.

A boy stops by their table at dinner.

"Jeno," he greets.

"Sean," Jeno says.

Before anyone can stop him, the boy grabs Renjun's face and jerks it up. "Which one are you sleeping with?" The boy looks from Jeno to Donghyuck to Jaemin. He sneers. "All of them?"

If Renjun's intimidated, he doesn't show it. "Last I checked, none of them," Renjun says.

The boy scowls.

"I think you should let go of him now," Jaemin says.

"Why? What are you going to do about it?"

Jaemin cocks his head as if he doesn't understand the question. "Nothing." He nods his head at the side of the cafeteria. "But if you want to have an appointment with the dogs, that's fine by me."

The boy makes a tch noise, and leaves, but not without making a dirty gesture at Renjun and glowering at Jeno.

Jaemin gets his 250. The cold hard cash feels good in his palm.

Renjun flips onto his stomach on his bed when he sees Donghyuck pass Jaemin the money.

"How much did you get for me?" Renjun asks.

Jeno covers his face with a hand. "Could you two have at least been more discreet about it?"

Jaemin looks up at Renjun guiltily.

"He's not mad about it," Donghyuck retorts, but he avoids Renjun's eyes. For his part, Renjun truly doesn't appear angry.

"250," Jaemin says.

Renjun whistles, low and long. "Not bad."

"You can get mad at them, you know," Jeno says. "You don't have to act like it doesn't bother you."

Renjun smiles at Jeno, and Jeno smiles back, his eyes crinkling into crescents. Donghyuck looks from one of them to the other.

"I can't say it doesn't bother me at all," Renjun says. That hits Jaemin harder than expected. The 250 doesn't feel as good as it did a few moments ago, and he loves cash, if only so that he can squander or lose it after he's gotten some. "But I can be persuaded to change my mind if I get a cut of the profit."

Jeno's mouth drops open, then he starts to laugh. Soon they're all laughing.

Jaemin tosses half the money up to Renjun.

Renjun tries to give it back, saying he was joking, but Jaemin won't take it.

They take Renjun to the Exchange so he can spend his money. The Exchange is run by the Arena in an otherwise unused warehouse every other Thursday. If they want to go, they’re escorted there in blindfolds by the dogs. Jaemin can’t tell if it’s attached to the Arena by underground tunnels, but he knows he never feels the sun on his face on the way there, and there’s a section that feels damp.

It's not the only way goods flow in and out of the Arena, but it's got good variety, it won't get you in hot water with the dogs, and the prices are decent—if it's considered decent to charge several times market price for inferior goods. Still, it's a better price than you'll get for goods obtained in less savory ways.

It has got all the goods that didn't get sold outside the Arena, the surplus, the defective ones, the old versions of tech that the companies don't want to sell for cheap but know will get devalued when their new versions come out.

There's a handful of goods that are sent over to the Arena specifically, by sellers who have some idea of doing good for the poor little boys that went astray too young in life. Those don't sell much. They're along the lines of inspirational quotes, stuffed animals, and books with more pictures than words—because the boys in the Arena can't possibly be dangerous and literate. Mixed in among those are any number of religious texts, and a brave soul or two who comes trying to spread the word of some god or gods or the latest political party in fashion.

Somehow, no matter which faction has taken over the government, they all support the Arena.

Jaemin picks up his usual overpriced pack of gum.

They take Renjun around to the clothes, because the Arena-issued clothing is ugly, the wrong size, and tags Renjun as fresh meat. Everyone wants to get out of Arena clothes. It's not about fashion, really. It's about providing visible proof to the other boys that they've won enough matches to get their own clothes. Renjun balks at the prices, but Jeno tells him that's how it is in the Exchange. It's best to lose any baselines from outside, and hope he starts earning, fast.

Renjun still doesn't seem eager to put down cash, but Donghyuck pressures him, saying that if he wants to hang with them he'd better look the part.

He very reluctantly buys a ratty shirt and pants, uglier than the Arena-issued ones but at least his size. Jaemin, who considers himself a bit of a fashionista, judges him. The clothes are easy to move in, which is more important than the looks, but he judges Renjun all the same.

Renjun spends some time looking through piles of knick knacks, hairpins, and old school supplies. Jaemin doesn't understand what he sees in those, and he and Donghyuck move on to their favorite sections, the snacks and the tech. Sometimes there's popular brands of chips, but they're probably too late today to snag any. There's always knock-off brands though. One time they found an old video game system, a real haul. Unfortunately it came with just one game that glitched on the second to last level.

Jeno humors Renjun and stays behind with him, while Donghyuck rolls his eyes.

"New boys are always interested in the boring stuff," Donghyuck says.

Jeno tells them later that Renjun didn’t buy any of it, and Donghyuck says, “What did you expect?”

The boy who Jaemin dubs Jeno’s enemy, Sean, brags about the new watch he bought at the Exchange. It's a clunky gold piece better for whacking someone over the head than telling the time, but hey, it's a watch. Finding one of those is next to impossible, so he gets the appropriate amount of oohs and aahs.

He does his bragging loudly when he passes them by, his eyes on Jeno. He was rank 2 before Jeno was. Jeno ignores him.

The funny part is, Jaemin hears through the grapevine that he lost the watch less than two days later.

Renjun's first match is scheduled at the same time as matches for all the fresh meat. The scheduling goes like clockwork for that first match. Afterwards it happens randomly, as if the director draws their names from a hat. For all Jaemin knows, he does. There's the other option of adding their names in the weekly lottery to be put into a match, like Donghyuck does, because he can't keep away from them, and like Jeno does, because he has big impossible dreams.

At midnight, a couple days into the second week, a ping is sent to their shared screen, addressed to Renjun. He doesn't ask them to clear out before opening it. The message unfolds on the screen, a grainy headshot of Renjun, younger than he is now, placed across from the headshot of some other boy with curly hair and freckles.

Jaemin places the face among the fresh meat. It's good that his opponent is also from the same batch—even a few days’ leg up on experience makes the difference sometimes. If Jaemin remembers right, the one Renjun is set against is at least a head taller than him, which isn't so good. It's not the worst outcome. At least it's not one of the more muscular ones, or the ones that have been training like their lives depend on it (they do).

Jaemin keeps an eye out for the boy in the message after that, and sees him a couple of times.

The boy Renjun's going to be up against is reedy and thin, and doesn't seem particularly fast on his feet. He falls into the category of those that still have the lost sheep look going on, though now that the match schedules have come out, those lost sheep eyes follow Renjun. It won't be the easiest match, but it's doable.

Jaemin has been trying to whip Renjun into shape, but Renjun improves at a snail's pace. Jaemin is still not sure why he's taken on this project, aside from having nothing better to do. So far it has been very unrewarding, thank you very much.

Jaemin's not sure anymore that firearms can be Renjun's thing, even if Renjun was putting all his effort into it. His aim's not bad, but it never reaches the realm of good. He hits the stationary targets half the time, and the moving targets only by accident. He still looks surprised at the recoil of the gun in his hand, when Jaemin is sure that he should know better with how many times Jaemin has tried to drill it into his head.

Jaemin isn't sure there's enough time to find an alternative.

He's also not sure Renjun is putting enough effort into it. He listens well enough to what Jaemin says, and he trains every time Jaemin suggests it.

That's the problem.

"You should be training on your own. You should be asking me, no, you should be begging me to help you train at this point," Jaemin says to Renjun once.

Renjun closes one eye, lifts the gun over his head, and aims.

"You just want to hear me beg," he says. He shoots. It goes wide. He doesn't look particularly bothered, and fires again.

"That's not really the point." But Jaemin considers the idea. "Well, I wouldn't mind it."

Renjun looks annoyed. Jaemin thinks that's not fair; he was the one that suggested the idea. "In your dreams," Renjun says.

Jaemin takes Donghyuck and Jeno with him next time.

"See?" They see exactly what Jaemin sees. Renjun does what Jaemin says, but he's not really trying. He goes through the motions, and each time is similar to the last—the same level of half-assed determination, the same mistakes. He's not good enough, and he's not getting better.

Jaemin has Donghyuck and Jeno demonstrate, hoping it will motivate Renjun. But though Renjun's mouth drops open when he sees what they can do, when he's put back to the task, nothing changes.

"I'm surprised that you are helping him in the first place," Jeno says. He says it like he's ashamed he hadn't thought of it first, and with that slightest hint of emphasis on you.

"Can't I do something nice for once?" Jaemin says.

"Not for free." Jeno half-smiles, so that Jaemin knows he's half-joking. He knows Jaemin well enough that Jaemin lets him get away with it.

More seriously, Jeno says, "You're not just trying to...sleep with him, right?" Jeno says this quietly and kind of reluctantly. Jaemin can see he's torn between wanting to know the answer and not wanting to offend Jaemin by asking.

"Me? Never. What gave you that idea?" Jaemin can't say he hadn't considered it when he first saw Renjun. Renjun's pretty, and Jaemin likes pretty things.

Jeno's worry doesn't come from nowhere. He knows Jaemin's habits.

"You flirt with anything that moves."

Now, that isn't fair. If he's bored enough, Jaemin flirts with objects that don't move too.

Jeno's polite as usual. He doesn't say what everyone else whispers around the Arena, that Jaemin will sleep with anyone. That he collects pretty boys like toys and kicks them to the curb once he's bored. Jaemin wouldn't mind if Jeno said that, though he won't. It's all true.

"I don't fuck with my friends," Jaemin says. “Usually,” he amends, just in case.

Jeno relaxes. "Right. I mean, I don't mind if you do, but I'd want it to be because you both wanted to, not because of..." Jeno waves his hands, not sure how to put it into words.

Jaemin gets it, but at the same time he wants to say that sometimes it's not about wanting someone. Sometimes pleasure is good enough. Fun is good enough.

Sometimes it's just about accepting what you can get. Accepting it, and pretending it's what you want, squeezing your eyes shut and pretending so well you almost believe. You almost believe until that critical moment at the end, sometimes at the end of weeks or months, when the pretending isn't good enough again.

Sometimes Jaemin wonders what Jeno would think if he knew that there was only one person Jaemin had ever really wanted.

"What are you worried about?" Donghyuck says. "From what I remember Renjun is pretty good at defending himself from unwanted advances."

Jaemin thinks it's cute the way Donghyuck is jealous over Jeno's concern toward Renjun. It's almost as cute as the way he unsuccessfully tries to hide it with a flippant tone.

Donghyuck's distracted by Renjun missing the target again. His eyes narrow. He uncrosses his legs and stretches them out.

"He's not even trying," Donghyuck says, his voice low.

Donghyuck rises and prowls over to Renjun. This is what Jaemin brought him here for. Donghyuck doesn't like half-assed effort. Jeno goes after him. That's what Jaemin brought him here for. He'll stop Donghyuck if he goes too far. Jaemin has never been good at that.

Donghyuck knocks the gun out of Renjun's hand, and it clatters to the ground. "I don't think you know how lucky you are. People would kill to be in your shoes, to have someone teaching them the ropes. But instead you're wasting Jaemin's time."

Renjun's gaze darts to Jaemin, and it's the slightest bit guilty. However, he doesn't apologize and says, "I'm no good with this. I'm not a genius like the rest of you."

"This isn't genius." Donghyuck gestures at the three of them. "This is effort." Not strictly true. Jaemin knows Donghyuck is more than a bit of a genius. That's why after all this time he's still the only one who has mastered that particular weapon.

"This," Donghyuck jabs a finger at Renjun's chest, "is pathetic. What happened to the boy who stabbed someone's eyes out?"

Renjun winces. "I only did that because I didn't have a choice."

"I liked that Renjun better. That Renjun made me think you had something in you, but maybe I thought wrong."

"Maybe you should try a different weapon," Jeno suggests.

Donghyuck's smile turns shark-like. "Good idea, Jeno."

There's the hiss of released air as Donghyuck pushes a button to open one of the weapon displays. He goes along the wall, pushing button after button until all the displays are open. He snatches off his practice weapon from the wall, the blunt one, not his true sharp blade. Jaemin watches Donghyuck uncoil his weapon, excited in spite of himself. This is supposed to be a lesson for Renjun, not a show for Jaemin’s satisfaction. Jaemin catches Renjun watching him watch Donghyuck.

Donghyuck waves a hand at the display. "Anything you could dream of. Take your pick."

When Renjun hesitates, Donghyuck lets his weapon fly and hit him in the side. Not too hard, but not light either. Renjun yelps.

"Or I can continue whacking at you while you wait around to get hit. Your choice."

"You want me to fight you?"

"What does it look like?"

"I can't beat you."

Donghyuck snorts. "Of course you can't. Score one hit on me, and I'll let you off."

Renjun goes to pick up his gun from the ground, but Jeno stops him.

"You're never going to get a hit on Donghyuck with how good you are with that," he says. "Sorry," he adds, as if that softens the blow.

"And I'm supposed to be better with a weapon I've never touched? That makes sense," Renjun says.

"He'll let you off easier if he sees that you're actually trying," Jeno says in a quiet voice so that Donghyuck can't hear.

Despite what Jeno says, Renjun chooses weapons at random. He takes large swords he can't lift, staffs he doesn't know how to swing, and chained swinging weapons he almost takes his own head off with. He makes his way across the weapon display. Donghyuck gets more hits on him each time, but Renjun seems to get better at taking the hits rather than using the weapons. Donghyuck's getting more pissed with each half-hearted attempt of Renjun's, and Jaemin isn't sure but he thinks Renjun might be secretly pleased at how he's riling Donghyuck up.

Jaemin isn't sure what Renjun's thinking. Renjun probably doesn't know how dangerous Donghyuck is. There's no point to riling Donghyuck up, unless you want to lose your teeth, or your head.

Renjun gets through the projectiles without much success. Donghyuck's hits have gotten harder, and Jaemin knows Renjun's going to have some pretty bruises tomorrow.

Renjun gets to the last section of the display, which holds small wooden knives cut to be the same weight and size as their sharper metal versions. Even the real knives in this section are more decorations than weapons. They have patterned handles and are beautifully shaped, but Jaemin doesn't see much of a use for them.

Unlike the other displays, Renjun stops in front of this one. He doesn't grab the first knife he sees. He runs his hands over each of the knives, picks a few and turns them over, draws one out with an almost deliberate slowness.

Donghyuck definitely thinks the slowness is deliberate. His finger twitches on his weapon like he wants to let it fly, though he doesn't. He scowls.

Renjun walks back, holds the knife up to the light and turns it over again like it's the most interesting thing he's seen all day. Donghyuck whacks him a couple more times while he does this. He manages to dodge Donghyuck's last swing, which is a good sign of some kind of improvement, but doesn't help Donghyuck's mood.

Jaemin's sure now. Renjun's almost smiling as Donghyuck's mood gets darker.

Donghyuck sees it too. "What's so funny?" he demands.

"You look funny when you get worked up," Renjun says.

That puts Donghyuck over the edge. His weapon arm drops to his side, and he stalks toward Renjun, the wooden blade snaking behind him at the end of its cable.

Renjun draws his arm back, swings it forward, and lets the wooden knife fly out of his hand.

It hits Donghyuck harmlessly in the chest, and falls to the ground.

Donghyuck looks from his chest to the ground, and gapes at Renjun. He half-lifts his weapon again.

"I got a hit," Renjun points out, to Donghyuck's dismay.

Jeno laughs, and pulls a scowling Donghyuck away. "He got you there."

Jaemin pulls Renjun aside after.

"Have you been playing me?" Jaemin asks.

Renjun's brows furrow in confusion.

"That knife hit exactly where his heart is."

"Oh, that," Renjun says.

"Were you hiding this from me?" Jaemin asks. "While I spent hours trying to teach you how to shoot?" He's trying hard not to get angry, but his voice shakes.

Renjun shakes his head. "I honestly didn't notice that section of the weapons until today."

Jaemin crosses his arms. He's not going to let Renjun off that easy.

"Please don't be mad at me, Jaemin," Renjun says. He looks up at Jaemin imploringly, and all thoughts of making it hard on Renjun vanish from Jaemin's head. Even if he's only got one person in his heart, his eyes appreciate many, and he's weak, he's so damn weak, for the pretty ones. Also, Renjun did say please. He gets some points for politeness. "I'm not trying to hide this from you. I'm good with throwing knives, but in a circus performer kind of way. It's not meant for killing, or even seriously injuring anyone. The knives are too light for that."

"And are you half-assing the practices?"

"I'm not going to become a pro-shooter in a couple days, and you know that," Renjun says.

"So Donghyuck was right. You are wasting my time."

Renjun fidgets. "That's why I only came when you asked. I thought maybe you only asked when you didn't have anything better to do." Jaemin supposes that's true. "If it's a waste of time, you don't have to do it. I am grateful. Really. Even if I don't think it's going to make a difference for me."

"Well, you're right that I help you when I'm bored. So it's fine for me. But you're wasting your own time."

Renjun shrugs. "I don't think it's a waste."

Jaemin doesn't understand. "It's hours of time you could be spending trying to find a weapon you're better at."

"That's the point, Jaemin. We've looked through all the weapons that can actually do any damage, and today we've looked through all the weapons. There's none that I'm better at that can do damage, and I know from what you and Donghyuck and Jeno say that I'm not good enough to get through a match without luck on my side. I think that's how this match is going to have to be, no matter how hard I practice. If I have luck, I'll go through. If I don't," Renjun shrugs again, "I won't."

Jaemin looks at Renjun, that list of names past and gone running through his head again. He sees that space for Renjun's name at the bottom of the list, still blank for now, but he imagines it being filled and signed by Renjun's own hand. The thought makes him sick.

"You're staking your life on luck?" he says.

"Mostly. I mean, this is probably improving my chances incrementally."

Jaemin doesn't think it's worth hours of time to try to better his chances incrementally. At this rate, maybe it's better if Renjun tries to sabotage the other boy. Jaemin discards the idea as soon as it crosses his mind. Sabotage in general is fine, but sabotage after a match has been set is a certain guarantee of death.

"In the case that I don't have that much time left, I'd rather have spent it with someone I like," Renjun says. "So I don't think this is a waste of time."

Jaemin walks back to the weapons and presses the button to reopen the display of small knives. He takes the one Renjun picked before and presses it into Renjun's hand. "You're good at this, so use it. Let's find a way to bring luck on your side."

Renjun lies in his bed, turning something over between his fingers.

"Isn't that Sean's watch?" Donghyuck says.

Renjun stops turning the object over, but it's too late. Donghyuck climbs up onto his bunk with the speed of a monkey, and starts wrestling it from Renjun's hands.

"Get off me," Renjun says, though he doesn't make much effort to shove Donghyuck off.

Donghyuck succeeds in prying the object out of Renjun's hands, and holds it up. "It is Sean's watch," Donghyuck says. He appraises Renjun anew. "You stole it." "Borrowed," Renjun corrects. "Possibly permanently."

"You said you didn't get thrown in here for anything," Donghyuck accuses. "But you're a thief."

"I'm not a thief. I know some sleight of hand. There's a difference." In an instant, Sean's watch is back in Renjun's hand. It dangles in front of Donghyuck before disappearing down Renjun's sleeve. "Besides, I'm not in here for that. I've never gotten caught."

Jaemin later notices that some hairpins, a box of paperclips, and a can of soda from the Exchange sit in the corner Renjun has claimed as his own, though Jeno swore Renjun didn't buy anything.

Jaemin watches Jeno run a hand through Donghyuck's hair when he thinks no one is looking. Donghyuck leans his head on Jeno's shoulder.

When Jaemin looks away, he sees Renjun's eyes on him.

"So, are the two of you together?" Renjun asks at night, pointing between Donghyuck and Jeno. The three of them are sitting on Jeno's bed, because no one is allowed on Donghyuck's unless they've just washed up, while Jeno doesn't mind as long as they're not dirty. Jaemin is in his own bed. He claimed he wanted to sleep early, but it was an excuse to avoid sitting on the side of Donghyuck and Jeno. He doesn't mind usually, but there are days when he doesn't need to see more of them being focused on each other.

Jaemin strains to hear them better. He tries to hide how much he wants to know the answer, but he's not sure he's doing a good job. If anyone were listening closely to him, which, he thinks bitterly, they wouldn't be, they might have heard his intake of breath.

Jeno reddens at Renjun's question. A predictable response, from him.

Donghyuck smirks and says, "Are you asking if I'm available?"

"Are you?" Renjun doesn't sound interested, but he doesn't sound uninterested

Donghyuck goes speechless for a second, probably not expecting Renjun to rise to the bait, but he recovers fast. "I am," he says. Jaemin can't decipher Jeno's expression.

Renjun leans closer to them and for a heart-stopping moment Jaemin thinks he's going to try to kiss Donghyuck, and Jaemin doesn't know what he's going to do if Donghyuck lets him, but it's just to get a closer look at Jeno.

"And you?"

Donghyuck's face sharpens. He looks at Jeno over Renjun's shoulder, touch and go.

"I'm not interested in anyone else right now," Jeno says. A flash of pleasure passes over Donghyuck's face that neither Renjun or Jeno see, but Jaemin does.

"That's not what I'm asking," Renjun says.

"We're not in a relationship, if that's what you're asking," Jeno says. "I guess I would say we're friends who, um, sleep together sometimes."

That doesn't answer Renjun's question either.

"We're fuckbuddies," Donghyuck says. Jeno flinches a bit at the word. Even as Donghyuck says this, he places a hand on Renjun's shoulder, and he's pulling him back from Jeno. Donghyuck threads his fingers through Jeno's. "Can't help it if he doesn't want anyone else though."

Jeno curls his fingers around Donghyuck's, while Renjun watches them, chewing on his lip thoughtfully. It's only Jeno who looks at their joined hands with uncertainty. Jeno knows as much as Jaemin does that as strong as the relationship between them seems, it hangs on the thread of Donghyuck's whims. Donghyuck could change it, or end it at any time. Even though Donghyuck hasn't slept with anyone else, he has the freedom to do so.

Jaemin doesn't think Jeno is as okay with it as he acts like.

But Jeno won't give an ultimatum. He lets Donghyuck kiss other boys in front of him. Even though Donghyuck doesn't go further, even if those kisses have only the touch of lust and none of the tenderness of ones shared between Jeno and Donghyuck, Jeno's face crumples like a kicked puppy's while Donghyuck's back is turned.

Jaemin thinks Jeno is afraid. Jaemin thinks Jeno would rather have a part of Donghyuck than none of him at all.

That's where they're different. Maybe that's why Jaemin doesn't suit a free spirit like Donghyuck. If Jaemin could have one part of Donghyuck, he would never be satisfied until he could have all of him. He would never let any of him go.

When Renjun said he was good with knives, he meant it. He is really, really good with throwing knives.

Jaemin puts him through the same sequence as the he did with the pistol, and Renjun hits each target dead center except for two where he hits a few centimeters off.

"I'm a bit out of practice," he says after, panting. Renjun juggles two knives between his hands, not the wooden ones but ones with blades sharp enough to cut skin at a touch.

"Nice trick," Jaemin says, admiring the way the blades turn just enough to avoid cutting off the tips of Renjun's fingers. "Where'd you learn that?"

"My family was a circus family," Renjun says.

"Really? Didn't know that was a thing." Jaemin asks. He's never heard of that. There's traveling circuses, but he doesn't think there's many people that go to them anymore when there's other entertainment available more cheaply and easily at the click of a button on the internet. It registers to him a dying breed, like handheld radios and cassette tapes.

"It isn't really," Renjun says. "That's why they were desperate enough to send me here. But look, this is my best trick."

Renjun puts down one of the knives. Without any warning, he tosses the other knife high in the air. It spins up in a high arc as he flips forward onto his hands. As he flips off his hands, his body turning, the knife arcs down. He snatches it out of the air at the height of his turn, and lands on his feet.

"Acrobatic tricks? You're full of surprises today."

"That's the only one. That and handstands. I'm a bit of a disappointment on the acrobatic side," Renjun says.

Jaemin devises a strategy for Renjun. He doesn't have to, but by boredom and accident and some amount of curiosity, he has invested enough time in Renjun that he wants to see it to the end. Renjun looks frail and small enough that no one's expecting much from him, and maybe Jaemin would like to see someone defy the expectations of the Arena. It isn't complicated, or anything Renjun couldn't think of himself if he were trying harder, but Jaemin thinks the best strategies aren't the complicated ones.

They can take in as many weapons as they want into a match, but it's only helpful if they can carry the weapons on their person.

Jaemin tells Renjun to take a throwing knife and the pistol. "He's new like you, so he won't be used to pain. Hit him with the knife, and while he's down, shoot him. Easy."

It's not foolproof, but it does sound easy. "I liked the other idea better. You know, the one where I dazzle him with my juggling skills until he gives up," Renjun says, but he agrees.

Here's another reason why Donghyuck and Jeno make a good match. Donghyuck has madness in him, but Jeno's the one who's actually mad.

At the end of the year, the top 5 ranks are considered for promotions. Promotions is a soft word for doing bitchwork for the dogs, the labs, or the director. Boys who get promoted get paid a minimum wage, and can climb their way up to better positions with higher wages, though they rarely make it that far. They still have to participate in matches, and it's hard to find the right balance between doing both bitchwork and training, so it could be a death sentence instead of a benefit. The highest anyone has ever gone is director's assistant.

Still, it's a coveted position to be in. It's well-known that getting promoted is the sole pathway to paying off the price on their heads, and freeing themselves from the Arena. They make money from the matches, but their price for freedom increases with each meal they take from the cafeteria and each time they use the training facilities. It's impossible to pay it off from matches alone.

With matches and a job in the Arena, freedom becomes a possibility.

To Jaemin's knowledge, there's only three boys that have freed themselves from the Arena's clutches, and even they aren't truly free. One of them is the director's assistant, and like him, the others chose to stay in their assigned positions in the Arena instead of leaving when they paid off their price. They've got nowhere to go, after all.

Staying eligible for promotion is hard enough. The ranks are based on some formula of number of matches won and votes from the viewers. Jeno and Donghyuck need to put their names into the lottery for matches every week to stay in the running, and even then, the viewers can't be predicted. Some weeks they like Donghyuck's blood thirst more than Jeno's merciful clean kills, and some weeks they don't.

It would be one thing if Jeno wanted to free himself from the matches—they all do. But Jaemin knows that's not enough for Jeno. Jeno probably doesn't care about freedom. He thinks he can work himself up the ranks of the Arena enough to change the rules of the game, enough to save them all.

Donghyuck has been roped in, not because he believes there's salvation to be had for the boys of the Arena, but because he believes in Jeno. Out loud, Donghyuck says he goes along with it because it's a hilarious, crazy idea that he wants to see play out, but in private he thinks it's noble.

"He's the best of us," Donghyuck says, and Jaemin can't deny it.

Jaemin thinks it's mad.

Jeno tries to rope him in too, now and again, but Jaemin doesn't want to hear it. "With the three of us, we can change things for sure," Jeno says. "Don't you want a future where we don't have to kill each other to survive?"

Jaemin thinks that it doesn't matter what they want. There is a difference between what they want and what they can achieve, and that's often the same difference that draws the line between life and death in the Arena.

On good days, Jaemin reiterates the facts. There's been around 30 boys promoted into jobs in the Arena, ever, and out of those three managed to pay off their debt price, ever, and out of those only one has a job under the director. The one who made it to director's assistant is ruthless and has none of Jeno's naiveté. Would you kill a friend for the director, Jeno? Would you kill Donghyuck? Even the director’s assistant isn't in a position to change the way the Arena is run. Don't you see, Jeno? The odds are stacked against you are so high they're insurmountable.

On bad days, Jaemin calls it fool's work.

Jeno isn't one to force his ideals on others, so the conversation never lasts very long.

The posters around the halls asking for experiment volunteers are still up, though anyone who was interested has already gone to the labs, and there won't be another batch of fresh meat for at least a couple months.

Jaemin keeps track of the boys who go down for experiments, for curiosity's sake. He hasn't been able to get any idea of what happens in the experiments. He is surprised there isn't gossip about it, but maybe they've given the boys a good reason to keep their mouths shut.

He considers asking one of the boys about it directly, but he knows none of them well enough to do it without attracting unwanted attention.

Some of them don't come back.

Jaemin wonders if anyone else has noticed.

Jaemin is walking with Renjun to the locker room when the boy Renjun is matched against approaches them. He appears more like a lost sheep in person, with blond hair that curls at his temple and large watery eyes. The effect is offset by his tall, lanky body. He's like a reed in the wind, with the head of a sheep perched on top. That is, if the sheep constantly looked about to keel over with fear.

"Ren-Renjun, right?" the boy says. "Can we talk?"

"Okay," Renjun says.

The boy shifts from foot to foot in front of Renjun, darts a look at Jaemin and away. "Alone, please?"

Renjun waves Jaemin off, and Jaemin goes around the corner, where he sits and eavesdrops. Jaemin reasons that Renjun didn't say he couldn't listen. Jaemin isn't close enough to make out all the words, but he catches bits and pieces.

The boy spreads out his hands in supplication.

"...if we both don't fight, they can't do anything about that, right?" the boy says. His voice is shot through with nerves. "If you drop your weapon and I drop mine, and act like we were too scared to fight—" Jaemin thinks it won't be acting for this boy "—we can survive until the next one."

Renjun looks unsure. He says something.

The boy grips at Renjun's arms and slides to his knees on the ground. He's shaking. Renjun's eyes widen and he tries to pull him back up, looking around to make sure no one's passing by.

"...please, I'm begging you. I don't want to die, but I don't want to kill. Oh god, this is so horrible. It's so horrible..."

The boy gets back up, but his fingers twitch.

"I'm so scared. I'm so, so scared."

"...scared too. We all are," Renjun says.

The boy tries to cling onto Renjun at that. Renjun recoils from the touch, but the boy doesn't seem to notice. His eyes bulge with terrible hope. "Then you understand! Let's both put down our weapons. Please, promise me you will."

Renjun examines the boy's face. He says something, and nods.

Jaemin closes his eyes.

"You've just signed your death warrant," Jaemin tells Renjun, as he drags him back to their room. "Wake up. The Arena will dispose of you both."

Jaemin immediately tells Donghyuck and Jeno without seeing if Renjun's okay with it. Renjun is an absolute idiot, and he doesn't deserve Jaemin's secrecy. They are equally horrified. All three of them tell him, in nicer or harsher words depending on the person, how much of a fool he's being.

"I'm not a liar. I already promised," Renjun says.

"Then tell the first lie of your life. What's honesty worth when you're dead?" Jaemin says.

"Oh, like you were so honest when you told that guy you'd sleep with him and then stabbed him in the eyes," Donghyuck says.

Renjun stiffens. "I didn't lie. I made suggestions. He's the one who read them the wrong way."

"That's the same thing," Donghyuck says.

"It is not," Renjun says. He rolls over in his blankets and doesn't talk to them for the rest of the night.

Jaemin wanders like a beast on the prowl. HIs blood runs high with frustration and he needs to let it out.

Soon he finds someone willing, a familiar face. Someone he's used before.

Soon he's pulling the boy back to his room, because he knows everyone else is out at lunch and that's more than enough time. He wouldn't usually use his own room or his own bed, but he's impatient, and the risk sends an additional thrill down his back.

Soon the boy comes apart, pliable between his fingers, pressed into his sheets.

Jaemin thrusts into him. He lets the pleasure drown everything out.

He appreciates the view of the boy's back. The brown hair is just the right shade so that he can pretend it’s someone else. He can't help it. He pulls on the boy's hair. The boy makes a low keening noise. The sound isn't quite right, but it still turns Jaemin on.

Jaemin imagines that the boy beneath him is a different boy, making different sounds. Though he doesn't know if Donghyuck would be the one beneath him, or the other way around. He imagines it, and a shiver runs through him.

He's getting close now.

Jaemin is so caught up that he doesn't hear the door open.

"The hell?" It's so quiet Jaemin almost doesn't hear it, but he does.

Jaemin doesn't stop. He's so close. He turns his head enough to see Renjun in the doorway—why is he there, he shouldn't be there—and he stares at Renjun while his lower body moves on its own. Jaemin keeps thrusting his hips forward, the sound of the boy's moans and his own panting suddenly unbearably loud. He knows Renjun sees it all, their naked bodies, Jaemin's dick going in and out, in and out of the boy under him. Hears it all too. Jaemin is feeling too good to be mortified, but he knows he should be, and that he probably will be. He knows he should stop, but he doesn't stop.

Finally he feels himself going over the edge.

He finishes with his eyes locked on Renjun's. Renjun stands frozen, like he's caught under a spell.

The boy beneath him sighs in pleasure. "That was so good, Jaemin," he says.

That breaks the spell. Renjun stumbles back, turns, and darts down the hallway.

Jaemin curses.

"What's wrong?" the boy says.

"Nothing, nothing," Jaemin says. "I just forgot I have to meet a friend soon. I have to go."

"You're kicking me out right now?" the boy says, looking aggrieved.

Jaemin presses a line of kisses down his back to placate him. "Sorry, I'll make it up to you. Let's get you cleaned up."

Jaemin lets the boy use their shower because he's obligated to do that much, but with each tick of the clock, he grows more impatient.

He practically herds the boy out when he's done.

The boy grumbles about it, but not much. "The things I let you get away with, Jaemin," he says.

Jaemin goes searching for Renjun. It doesn't take him long. Renjun hasn't gone far. He sits on the middle steps of the stairs just around the corner.

"You're done?" Renjun asks. His tone is light, but he doesn't look Jaemin in the eye. Jaemin recalls that Renjun doesn't know this side of him. So far he's been a helpful mentor figure to Renjun more than anything, and though it was never his intention to hide the other aspects of his life, it's not something he thought to bring up in casual conversation either. There hasn't been a great time to say, "Hey, by the way, if I'm not around, I'm probably finding someone to fuck" or, "If I don't fuck someone every couple nights, I might go crazy. What do you think about that?" There's a decent amount of boys like him, horny and young as they are, but they don't need to talk about it. They have an implicit understanding.

"You saw me finish," Jaemin says.

"I didn't see much," Renjun says.

"No, you saw everything. I saw you stand by the door and watch everything."

"Not on purpose! Can we just pretend that didn't happen?" Renjun says.

"Did you like what you saw?" Jaemin walks up the steps until he's standing over Renjun. He sits down beside him, the way they've sat together many times in the training rooms, but not with friendly comradery. He slides too close and whispers in his ear, "Did I turn you on?"

Well, Renjun knows this side of him now. He doesn't get to pretend it doesn't exist. Jaemin won't let him.

Renjun recoils from him. "God, Jaemin. No."

Though Renjun angles his body away, it doesn't do a good enough job of hiding the cloth bunching together at the center of his pants, a small risen area that Jaemin might have missed if he weren't looking. Bingo.

"Liar," Jaemin says.

"This is a natural reaction. It's not because of you," Renjun hisses, furious.

"Since it's already like this, we might as well have some fun," Jaemin says. His hand snakes toward the bulge in Renjun's pants, but Renjun pushes him away. The rejection stings, because if there's one way Jaemin knows how to patch up a problem, it's with sex. He understands that it's a temporary delay rather than a solution, but delay is good enough for him. And once they've been in bed together, Renjun can't look at him like that, like he's better than him or something.

"I didn't know you were like this," Renjun says, his body shaking. With anger or disgust or some combination of the two, and this is what Jaemin didn't want to get to—the part where Renjun rejects who he is.

"Like what? What's 'this', Renjun? Like, you didn't know I slept around? Are you disappointed now that you know that about me?" Jaemin says.

"I didn't know you'd treat me like some random boy you sleep with. I thought we were friends," Renjun spits out.

Jaemin falters, surprised. "We are friends."

"So that boy was your friend too?"

Jaemin tilts his head. "He's not really. Oh, are you mad because you think I'm treating you like him? You're much more important to me than him, I promise, whether you sleep with me or not. I wouldn't help him train, for one thing." Jaemin flashes one of his winning smiles, which usually lets him get away with anything. He sees that the rise in Renjun's pants hasn't gone down, so he is interested despite what he's saying, but Renjun doesn't smile back. He doesn't even offer one of his wry grins. Jaemin's smile fades. "We all find our own ways to survive this place. Don't judge mine," he says.

Renjun picks at a spot on the side of the stairs where the paint is chipping off. "I get it," he says, but he doesn't really, not yet. There's a difference between the unblooded and the veterans. There's a before and an after. He'll understand soon. He gives Jaemin a half-grin, a little forced but Jaemin will take it. "You do what you have to.”

Jaemin feels a weight lift from his shoulders. He and Renjun are going to be okay.

“Can you not do it in our room though? I'd rather not see that again,” Renjun says.

"Are you sure? Watching is part of the fun," he says, with enough amusement to let Renjun know he's joking.

Renjun rolls his eyes. " I’m not interested in that kind of fun," Renjun says.

Jaemin's smile widens. He pats Renjun on the shoulder, and lets his touch linger a moment too long. He lets his fingers caress Renjun's arm as they slide off him. "I don’t know about that. You’re the one who watched until the end. I really wonder why you did.”

Renjun actually reddens, but tries to stare Jaemin down at the same time. The faint blush across his cheeks contrasts sharply with the rising irritation in his eyes. Jaemin thinks that Renjun might be, no, he's sure that Renjun is flustered. Jaemin hasn't had this much fun in a while.

Renjun's eyes narrow, as if he can tell Jaemin is enjoying his discomfort. He stands up. "We are not talking about this."

He starts down the stairs.

"If you change your mind, you know where to find me," Jaemin calls after him. "I'll be waiting."

Renjun flips him off.

In a match, one of the boys who went to undertake the experiments kills his opponent. That should be the end, but he keeps smashing his bludgeon into the dead boy's chest. Again and again until it's a cavern of red.

In a match, Jaemin kills another of the boys who went to undertake the experiments. He is cautious going into the match, because he isn’t sure if the experiments might improve their prowess in the stadium. He is right to be careful.

He's seen this boy fight before, and he's good, but not that good. He shouldn't be been as fast as he is, and he left a dent in the ground when he smashed into it with his spiked metal ball on a chain. If Jaemin hadn't moved at the last second, that would have been game over for him. Luckily Jaemin is faster. Stronger too, probably, but he's using his guns, so he doesn’t need to verify that.

Jaemin's trained himself to expect the unexpected, and that's saved him more than once. All the matches are recorded, and they can watch them whenever they want. Jaemin watches as many as he can. He analyses them down to the bone. But unlike the others, Jaemin's strength is his flexibility; he doesn't only memorize the patterns of previous matches, he goes beyond that. He assumes his opponents could change tactics or weapons at any time.

There's no weapon change from this boy, but he rushes Jaemin again and again tirelessly, and gets closer to catching him off-guard each time. Jaemin knows his stamina is good. He knows it should be much better than this boy's, but his is the one wearing down while the other boy comes at him relentlessly. The boy has taken a bullet in his dominant arm and a couple in the legs, and this should have slowed him down, if not crippled his movement entirely. But it's like he doesn't feel the injuries. He keeps coming, and Jaemin knows he isn't firing back as fast or as often.

Jaemin had expected some respite, since this boy is usually more of the cautious type. In his past videos he waits for his opportunity before rushing in.

Now he moves like a bull. He charges, and he's reckless.

Originally Jaemin thought to make this kill slow. He's been slipping down the ranks lately because he finishes his opponents off in the first couple shots, and it's not entertaining enough to get him votes from the viewers.

Jaemin decides a slow kill is not worth it.

He levels his gun, aims, and fires, all in the space of a heartbeat. If the boy wasn't being so reckless, he wouldn't have been such an easy target. Of course, Jaemin would have hit him either way.

The bullet goes straight through the center of the boy’s forehead, between his eyes.

The cleaners come in for the body. The cleaners dress all in black when they're in the stadium, though their usual uniform is a dull orange. They put the body, or what's left of it, onto a pallet. Sometimes they put flowers on the boy's chest, if he was someone the viewers liked. The public message is that this is to give the boys respect in death, but it's little more than theatrics.

It's the day of Renjun's first match. Renjun is awake before the rest of them, which Jaemin expects. Everyone gets first match nerves. Even Donghyuck did.

Jaemin, Jeno, and Donghyuck have tried to convince Renjun not to make an idiotic peace pact with the other boy, but Jaemin doesn't know if they got through to him. Jaemin almost shows him Chenle's video. Jeno never deleted it, though none of them watched it again. Jaemin considers doing it, strongly considers it, possibly while shaking Renjun and shouting in his face, "Is this how you want to go? Is it?" But in the end that video is Jeno's. It's not Jaemin's place.

Jeno says no.

Jeno says it's not his place either. He says the video is Chenle's and no one else's, even though the boy is dead.

That's how Jeno is though. Jeno wants to preserve the memory of those lost. Jaemin thinks it's more important to preserve the future of those living.

"He's gone," Jaemin snarled at Jeno a couple days ago. "What's the use of keeping the video if you're not going to use it?"

"I'm not going to use his death for anything," Jeno snarled back. "That's what this place does. It uses death. They used his death as tool to control us, and you want to do the same to Renjun? You should be ashamed to suggest it."

"You should be ashamed you're not willing to do what it takes to keep him alive, all for your damn morals."

Donghyuck looked between them, hesitant, and all of a sudden Jaemin was angry at him too. "Why aren't you saying anything, Donghyuck? I know you agree with me." Jaemin knew that Donghyuck respected Jeno's morals, but he didn't hold to them. He had his own rules.

Jeno shook his head. "Don't drag Donghyuck into this."

By the way Donghyuck didn't deny what Jaemin had said, Jaemin knew he agreed with him, but Donghyuck looked away, "It's Jeno's video, so I'll go along with his decision."

Jaemin wanted to kick him. He also wanted to kiss him, but he always wanted to kiss him. Donghyuck didn't usually let whatever was going on between him and Jeno get in the way of speaking his mind, but the video is different. It's what almost destroyed Jeno, after all.

It's so attractive when Donghyuck gets protective of Jeno like this, in that subtle way where Jeno doesn't know he's being protective. The jealousy almost makes Jaemin sick.

"Damn you both then," Jaemin said.

Now that a couple days have passed, the three of them are cool.

Jaemin's temper never lasts long. He gives a sweet apology he doesn't completely mean, but Jeno accepts it in good grace. Jaemin is a little sorry, not for what he said, but for making Jeno think about the video again. He is more sorry for wanting Donghyuck when he shouldn't.

When Jaemin wakes up, Renjun is looking out the window. His eyes look out and up into the distance, though there's nothing to see but gray skies. If he were looking down he would see the roads that wind up to the Arena, the river cutting through the valley, and the edge of civilization—civilization being defined as any human inhabitation where they aren't mandated to beat each other to death every so often. This edge of civilization is more than that. It’s a full blown city. Jaemin looks often at the city, the skyscrapers gray rectangles jutting into the sky, so familiar to him from his life before. It's closer than he would've thought, but far out of reach. At night, when the city lights turn on, it feels closer still.

When it's time for Renjun to go, Jaemin doesn't bother to berate him again. Renjun has made up his mind, and Jaemin doesn't want his last words to him to be admonishment. Though Jaemin hopes it's not the end, he knows how attempts at peace turn out. Jaemin hopes that Renjun will change his mind once he walks into the stadium. Renjun doesn't know what it's like being in that space with the crowd screaming for blood, and until he gets there, he can't know what he will do.

But even if Renjun changes his mind, it's not a sure thing. The fight could swing either way.

Jaemin looks at Jeno and Donghyuck, and he knows they feel the same way.

There's a solemn air in the room.

Jeno shakes Renjun's hand. Donghyuck wishes him good luck instead of making a snarky comment, and claps him on the back. Jaemin almost does the same.

An impulse pushes him to instead wrap his arms around Renjun. He holds him tight. Renjun feels small and breakable in his arms, and though it feels like if Jaemin holds him any tighter he'll break him, he doesn't let go. Renjun's body is stiff against his at first, but after a while, he relaxes into the touch. To Jaemin's surprise, he lets his head rest on Jaemin's shoulder. Renjun doesn't usually like it when the rest of them are too touchy with him, let alone reciprocate, so for him it's an unusual display of vulnerability, showing that like the rest of them he does need the comfort of physical touch. It frightens Jaemin because he doesn't think it's something Renjun would show them under usual circumstances.

"Thanks for everything," Renjun says.

It sounds like a goodbye.

They watch from the usual seats up top as Renjun walks out into the stadium to stand across from the lost sheep boy. He has a throwing knife and a gun like Jaemin suggested, and Jaemin hopes that means he's thinking of fighting.

The match starts.

Renjun and the other boy look at each other, neither of them moving. The stadium has been set up with the barebones basic configuration today, as it always is for a first match. There's no obstacles or props, no sand or grass or mites that will eat holes through your skin, just bare ground between them.

One of the big screen projections focuses on Renjun's face. A wind blows across the ground, and his hair splays across his face. The wind is part of the configuration. The stadium is completely climate-controlled, though the transparent ceiling gives the illusion of an open-air arena. Most of the configs have some kind of wind. It adds to the illusion of the stadium being open to the elements, and it makes it harder for projectile weapons to find their mark.

The seats are half-empty. Not many viewers are interested in forking out money to watch the clumsiness of the unblooded. There's those who are into that kind of thing, but thankfully, they're few.

Too much time passes, but Renjun and the boy still don't move.

"Kill him, kill him," the crowd chants. It's unclear which him they mean, but considering the low amount of money in the betting pool, either of them would probably be fine.

"Kill him," Donghyuck whispers beside Jaemin.

The boy says something. Renjun says something back.

Renjun moves first, his eyes never leaving the other boy's face. The other boy has a gun too. Renjun crouches down and puts his gun down in front of him. He lets it lie there like an offering a pace away. Within arm's reach, but not close enough. The crowd goes silent. Jaemin's fingers dig into his arms.

The other boy gestures at Renjun, indicating the throwing knife.

Renjun points at his gun, but the boy shakes his head and says something.

Renjun stands up and steps back from his gun on the ground. He's still holding his knife in one hand, but the gun is out of his reach now. He'll have to dive for it if he needs it.

"Idiot." Donghyuck curses. Jaemin feels tendrils of despair curling up from within. Jeno watches with dark eyes but doesn't say anything.

The other boy's eyes dart from side to side and he says something to Renjun again. On the big screen, Jaemin sees Renjun go still.

The other boy smiles a big smile. It shows more of his teeth than it should, and his lips stretch so wide his face distorts. He doesn't look like a sheep anymore.

The other boy raises his gun, points it at Renjun, and pulls the trigger.

Renjun is diving already before the shot is fired, and the bullet whistles past his ear. The boy is so shocked he missed that his face freezes with his mouth half-open. Then his face distorts with frustration, and some measure of fear. He expected it to be over with one shot. How naive. Based on the shot, he does have good aim though.

Good control is another matter. He's rattled by the miss, and he fires wildly in Renjun's direction. Renjun doesn't stop moving. He somersaults across the ground. Bullets make puffs of dirt near him, but don't come close to hitting him.

Renjun gets up into a run, and as he runs, he throws.

The knife hits the boy in the chest, just under the ribcage, and knocks him back. His face distorts again, this time in pain.

As the other boy stumbles, Renjun scoops up his gun. He shoots.

The bullet hits its mark. Not right between the eyes, as Jaemin taught him, but close enough.

The other boy goes down.

Renjun walks up to the body. His eyes are full of a wild, dark churning. Jaemin feels something throb inside him, something painful and sickly and oh so sweet.

The announcer calls an end to the match.

Renjun points his gun at the boy's head and shoots again. The bang is loud despite the noise of the crowd.

He shoots again and again. He shoots until he has no bullets left.

Jaemin's good at being places he's not supposed to be. Like just out of sight while Donghyuck talks to Renjun alone, having a conversation that's meant for only their ears.

Donghyuck has had a look in his eye since the end of Renjun's match. Renjun looks a certain way too, but it's a tired and haggard way. He's subdued. He brushed off their "Good job out there"s earlier, and claiming he was tired, curled up in his bed for the rest of the afternoon.

He got up for dinner, and afterward Donghyuck dragged him off. Jaemin took a long way around to an alcove near them. Of course, he knows Donghyuck's usual spots, so it wasn't hard to find them. They sit on the edge of a windowsill.

"How do you feel?" Donghyuck asks.

That's weird. Jaemin didn't expect Donghyuck to try to have a heart-to-heart with Renjun.

"Like shit," Renjun says.

Donghyuck doesn't react to that except for the smallest tightening of his lips. He doesn't offer Renjun comfort. "How do you really feel?" Jaemin is confused by the question, and by Donghyuck's skeptical expression. Renjun’s reaction is the normal reaction to a first match.

Renjun looks sideways at Donghyuck, a dash of anger in his gaze. But it's mostly hollowed out. "That is how I feel. How do you expect me to feel?"

Donghyuck cocks his head to the side. "Then how did you feel, when you were shooting him?"

Renjun reels away from him, like the question has hit him with physical force. "I wasn't feeling. It was so fast," Renjun mumbles.

"Then tell me this, how did you feel shooting again and again, when he was already dead?" Donghyuck says.

Renjun stumbles off the windowsill, backing away from Donghyuck.

Donghyuck's voice goes softer. There's an edge of emotion Jaemin hasn't heard from him before, and Jaemin struggles to figure out what it is. Donghyuck is almost pleading. "Tell me, Renjun. Please."

Renjun turns away from Donghyuck, and covers his mouth. He stumbles another step, makes a retching noise, and bends over. He goes to his knees and dry heaves.

Donghyuck waits for his heaving to stop.

"I can't talk about this," Renjun says.

"You're afraid," Donghyuck says, softer still, like he might frighten Renjun away.

"All I thought then was that he was a liar and he betrayed me and I would make him pay for that. I wasn't thinking. I shouldn't have done it. I should have died like I was supposed to."

Donghyuck walks over to him. He helps Renjun to his feet. "No one is supposed to die. At max it was a 50-50 chance. What are you afraid of?"

"Afraid of killing. Afraid of dying. Afraid of living the rest of my days in fear. Same as the rest of you, I suppose."

Donghyuck puts a hand on his own chest. He says something Jaemin has never heard him say to anyone, has never even implied except to Jaemin in that one moment of weakness after his first match. "Not me. I'm not afraid of killing and I'm not afraid of dying." He stops. Lowers his voice. Jaemin has to strain to hear the words. "You know what I'm afraid of? I'm afraid of not being able to kill. It makes me feel alive, and I need to feel alive. Would you say that makes me a monster?"

Renjun shakes his head. He looks like he could go back to dry heaving any second. "Donghyuck, I don't—"

"It's fine if you do. You wouldn't be wrong. I know there's a monster inside of me."

Donghyuck puts a hand on Renjun's chest over the same spot. "I don't think you're afraid of those things either. You're afraid of this."

"I don't understand," Renjun says, but the way his voice shakes says otherwise.

"You're like me. There's a monster in you too."

Renjun pushes Donghyuck's hand away from his chest, a forceful but clumsy shove. Donghyuck doesn't seem to mind. He takes a step back.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Renjun says.

"You said you're not a liar," Donghyuck says. His voice is gentle.

Renjun leaves first. His footsteps are fast and uneven as their sound fades away.

An assembly is called early in the morning. There's not much warning besides the crackle of the speakers right before they go on, blaring out the announcement through all the hallways and rooms. Jaemin is still in his room when their shared screen flickers to life, and the director's face fills the screen.

"All of you are to go to the assembly hall immediately," the face on the screen says, and the screen goes black.

It's a team effort between Jeno and Jaemin to drag Donghyuck out of bed. Renjun was sleeping too, but after the announcement wakes him up, he sits up and rubs bleary eyes.

They head out together and join the stream of other boys moving toward the assembly hall. Jaemin mentally counts the faces that have been around for longer than him. The number is smaller every time.

Though the assembly hall is large, it doesn't feel that way with a thousand boys plus some crammed into it.

Donghyuck yawns. "This had better be good," he says.

The director walks in. Though he's not a large man or particularly intimidating in terms of looks, everyone goes quiet.

"As of today, all you boys in this room have been tried and tested at least once," the director says. "You have proven yourselves worthy of the greatest gift the Arena can give, the greatest reward anyone can earn. All of you should know what that is. That is life.

"Outside of the Arena, they say all lives are equal. That is wrong. They know it is wrong, and that is why so many watch your performances, my dear boys. They are drawn to us because we are enlightened to the truth. No lives are worth the same as others. Your lives are worth more than those of the ones you killed, and of the ones you shall kill. Thus you are alive and thus they are dead."

The tendons in Jeno's neck bulge from how hard he's clenching his jaw.

"It is our duty to remind the world of this truth. Do not forget this.

"Now to the meat of the matter, I must call upon you to perform another duty for the good of our beloved Arena. I am sure all of you have seen the posters for the experiments. To my great sorrow, very few of you have signed up for them, even with the money offered. So now it has fallen upon me to change this. Each month, we need at minimum five boys to join the experiments. I hope you all will feel a renewed sense of duty after our talk and rush to sign up, but in the case that you do not, I will fill the quota by selecting at random. I will announce the selections on the last day of each month. That is all. Any questions?"

There are none. No one questions the director.

"Excellent. As always, remember to abide by the rules. Win and live. Lose and die.”

Renjun spends several days in bed, leaving only for his meals. He moves like a zombie, and even when eating he picks at his food.

Jeno has taken to taking an apple out with him from the cafeteria. The dogs don't begrudge the fruit, though they double-check that he's taken nothing else. It's not like he could take out hot food anyway.

Jeno sits with Renjun until he finishes the apple, though it takes a long time.

Jeno had the hardest time after his first match, so he wants to help. In some ways, he understands better than the rest of them—he can comprehend the regret. Even now, his blows swift and efficient, he regrets each death like the first. He powers himself on guilt.

Jaemin and Donghyuck don't have that type of guilt. Jaemin thinks the deaths are regrettable, but he regrets nothing. If he were to do it all over, he would no nothing different. He would kill each boy again, if that was what it took for him to live. He has no guilt because he had no choice. And anyway the other boys would have killed him with as little mercy.

Donghyuck is the same. He sees the dichotomy, the him or you, so he has no regrets. More than Jaemin, he takes what he can from it. He takes to killing like a fish to water, and he takes to it with pleasure. Not because he wants to, but because the feeling comes to him naturally. He can't deny it any more than he can deny his desire to live. In a way, that's Donghyuck's veneration of death—he creates joy and exhilaration when there should only be darkness.

Jeno sees the dichotomy as much as the rest of them. He wants to live too. The difference is he can't escape the guilt. Greater purpose drives him because it must; if he had no justification for his guilt he'd be swallowed alive.

It's a wonder that Donghyuck and Jeno connect at all, so different as they are. Jaemin thinks it's one of the few instances where they were right when they said opposites attract. Maybe somewhere inside himself Jeno wants Donghyuck's freedom, never bound by the rules of right and wrong, and maybe Donghyuck wants Jeno's sense of higher purpose, a guiding light that brings meaning to the senselessness around them. That would make sense, if they find what they're missing in each other.

Or maybe having a reason to kill makes them more alike than they think. Whether that reason is a hunger for justice or a hunger for destruction.

Still, out of the three of them, Jeno is the only one who understands being swallowed alive by the aftermath of his first match.

He probably sees himself in Renjun, and the more Renjun falls into a funk, the more Jeno is drawn to him. Donghyuck sees this.

Donghyuck doesn't begrudge Jeno. "Savior complex, what can I say?" he says to Jaemin. "Though I like that about him."

Jaemin snorts. "You like that? I don't believe that for a second."

"Honest. We have the best sex when he gets off on that."

However, Jaemin notices that Donghyuck’s touches linger longer on Jeno in front of Renjun. Renjun doesn't notice.

Jeno can't completely understand where Renjun’s coming from. Renjun's being eaten up by something, but Jaemin isn't sure it's guilt.

Jaemin finds Renjun sitting up in his bunk at night, looking out the window. It's just the two of them, so Jaemin says, "Can I come up?"

Renjun turns, takes some time to register Jaemin's presence, and considers the question. He nods.

Jaemin climbs up to Renjun's bunk. They sit side by side, the blankets swathed around them. He hasn't been up on Renjun's bunk before. It feels similar to his, though when he looks down he sees Jeno's neatly folded sheets instead of Donghyuck's messy ones. The view from the window is about the same, aside from a few skyscrapers not visible from Jaemin's side.

"What were you looking at?" Jaemin asks.

"The city," Renjun says. He draws his knees up to his chest and draws his arms around them. Jaemin puts an arm around his shoulder. Although Renjun doesn't lean into his touch, after a moment he rests his head on Jaemin's shoulder, as if holding it up himself is too hard.

"Are you from there?"

"No."

The lights of the city gleam, cold as the stars above. Some of the lights will wink off deeper into the night, but the city is never completely dark.

"Do you wonder what we'd be like, if we were out there?" Renjun asks. "If we weren't here?"

"Not anymore," Jaemin says. He's imagined himself under the bright city lights before, but it feels so immaterial it's less than a dream. He's not sure he could even want it, since he's not sure what he would be wanting.

"What do you think you'd be doing now, if you hadn't been taken in?" Renjun asks.

Jaemin's not sure. Even before the Arena, he didn't think about the future much. Getting from one day to the next was as far as it went, earning what small reputation he could among his peers.

"I don't know either," Renjun says.

"Not the circus?" Jaemin teases.

"Ha ha. If I was good enough for that I wouldn't be here."

"Wait, you were serious about being part of a circus?"

"Circus family," Renjun corrects. "But honestly it's my parents' dying legacy. There's not many circuses anymore. When my oldest brother's career ended after an injury, that was pretty much the end of it. None of the rest of us were good enough, and we weren't old enough to earn much from odd jobs. If I weren't here, I think maybe I'd want to go to university."

Jaemin makes a face.

"I didn't get to go to school much as a kid. Felt like I missed out there."

Jaemin is about to say he didn't, but he remembers the friends he had those days before he started ditching every day. It doesn't change his mind, but it stops his tongue.

"You know how I said I'm the third son of four? I'm not the first from my family sent here, actually. My younger brother was the first. They don't tell you anything after they take them, and we're cut off from viewing the matches as part of the deal, so I never knew what happened to him. Somehow I thought he'd still be here. Before I arrived I had all these ideas about finding him and breaking out of here together, but..."

"You didn't see him," Jaemin says.

"I...I didn't."

They both know what that means.

"So now I don't have a reason to live," Renjun says.

"Why do you need a reason? I want to live, so I live. Isn't that good enough?"

"Maybe."

Renjun looks out the window again.

"I thought I might die last match. I thought I had made my peace with it. I thought I wouldn't be like whoever had killed my brother. Ever since the other boy talked with me about putting down our weapons, it felt like the pieces I had been missing fell back into place. If I could die defying the system that had killed him, that should have been enough. But I even failed at that. I'm a terrible brother."

Jaemin rubs soothing circles into Renjun's back.

"Do you feel guilty about killing him?"

A flash of anger sharpens Renjun's features, but it doesn't last long. "No. I feel guilty about killing because it's playing to the system." He hastily adds, "And because it's wrong. But not about killing him. I really wasn't going to... He shouldn't have laughed and said he couldn't believe I fell for his lies. It made me so angry, I just—I couldn't die to someone like him. I hate it when someone tries to take advantage of me."

"Yeah, I can tell. Why'd you keep shooting him?" Jaemin asks, because he can't help himself. He's been curious since he eavesdropped.

Renjun shudders and looks a little sick, a little like how he looked in that hallway with Donghyuck. "I got too angry, I think. I wasn't thinking, I didn't really notice it." It's a deflection, and Renjun avoids his eyes. Jaemin doesn't press the issue.

"If it means anything, I don't think you're a terrible brother. Wouldn't your little brother have wanted you to live?"

Renjun laughs, low and bitter. "Would he have wanted the brother who let him get sent to his death to live?"

"If I were your brother, I would have wanted you to live."

Renjun turns to him, his expression mostly disbelieving, but unable to hide that fragile, breakable thread of hope. He can't help but want what Jaemin says to be true. Jaemin continues to massage Renjun's back. Larger, slower circles now.

"If it means anything, I want you to live," Jaemin says.

Jaemin's hand moves lower along Renjun's back. He can feel Renjun's ribs. He's too thin, even with the help of Jeno's extra apples.

By habit, Jaemin's hand catches the edge of Renjun's shirt. His hand shifts under the shirt and rubs a circle against the skin of Renjun's lower back. His skin is smooth, and Jaemin craves the warmth he feels there. His hand moves lower still, though he's not really thinking about it.

"Jaemin," Renjun says. "Stop."

Jaemin stills. "Sorry, bad habit," he says. He really hadn't meant to do anything but soothe Renjun. He's too used to any kind of intimate touch turning into something more.

Somehow, Renjun believes him. Or he wants comfort enough that he doesn't push Jaemin away.

Jaemin rests his hand against the skin of Renjun's lower back, and Renjun lets him. There's nothing intimate in the moment. Just the warmth of their bodies against each other, and it's oddly calming.

They sit side by side, watching the lights of the city before them.

Renjun is back to himself a week after the match. He doesn't say what got him over the hump, and they don't ask. He doesn't mention the words he said to Jaemin in the night, or what Jaemin said to him. But he gives Jaemin a small private smile, just once.

It sends a shocking amount of warmth spreading through Jaemin's chest. Jaemin thinks about it for the rest of the day, and each time he thinks about it his chest feels warm again.

It's not like Donghyuck's smiles that send electricity through his veins, burning fire hot, that make his heart flip over, and his brain melt to goo.

But it's warm.

Chapter Text

Two boys are selected for experiments the first month, and four boys are selected the second month. There's no one Jaemin knows, except one boy he's slept with once. He wouldn't say he knows that boy either.

The boy across from Jaemin this time is someone he knows well. Intimately. Brown hair, the curve of a back, pressed into Jaemin's sheets. Jaemin remembers his taste because it was so recent.

When they meet eyes, Jaemin knows the boy wants him, even now. Even as they stand face to face, guns in their hands, waiting for the start to be called. Waiting for the end of this thing between them.

The boy’s eyes linger where they shouldn't, on Jaemin's face, his arms, even his ass. He should be assessing Jaemin for weaknesses, taking in the terrain, like Jaemin's doing, but he isn't.

It's like he's memorizing what he can't have anymore. Either he's foolish, or he's confident.

Jaemin doesn't think it's the former. The boy has been around in the Arena long enough that he can't be an idiot, and he's pretty good with guns. It will be a challenge.

The start is called, and Jaemin ducks behind one of the large blocks of stone set throughout this config. His eyes stay on his opponent, who doesn't move.

Jaemin is confused. He knows neither of them have gun shields. They were banned for this match.

The boy looks at Jaemin, still not moving for some reason. Jaemin's not close enough to read his expression.

Jaemin was going to go for a disabling shot first, but he can't waste an opportunity like this. The other boy is a sitting duck.

"Sorry," Jaemin says, though it can't be heard. He takes the shot.

For the sake of their history together, he makes it clean. The bullet goes in under the boy's chin.

As the metal rips through his flesh, the boy mouths two words.

Jaemin isn't much for reading lips. He thinks it might be "Fuck you", but the eerie expression of peace on the boy's face doesn't match.

The boy closes his eyes. Mouths the words again.

Thank you.

The bullet goes out through the back of the boy's skull, and he topples to the ground.

Renjun clicks with Jeno despite his disdain for Jeno's ideals. He's harsher about it than any of the others.

"There is no changing the system, not the way you're thinking of," Renjun says. "Literally the whole concept of the Arena is boys killing each other for entertainment."

"The concept is boys fighting each other for entertainment. There's a difference," Jeno says.

"Death is what they're paying for."

"Because they don't know what the Arena would be like without it."

"Because there would be no Arena without it. The only way to change this is to destroy it all," Renjun says.

"That's pretty radical for someone who hasn't been here three months," Donghyuck says. "And literally never saw matches before then."

"I don't need to see matches to have an opinion about them."

"Really? Because I think that you do." His tone is more brittle than Jaemin expects, but Renjun doesn't appear to notice.

"Fine, if I last until the end of the year, I'll update you all with my revised opinion."

Renjun doesn't hold back, but Jeno doesn't mind it. Jaemin realizes that, like Renjun, he appreciates the honesty.

Renjun and Jeno are talking now about which meals in the cafeteria are the worst. They both agree that the absolute worst is the imitation chicken they have on days when they're supposed to have chicken but the kitchen has run out of the real stuff. No matter how they cook it, it always turns out a bit like a rubber tire.

The two of them have gotten stuck on what should be second worst. Renjun insists it's the ground meat slop they serve every other Friday and pretend is curry.

"No, no," Jeno says, shaking his head. "You weren't here when the supply lines went down and every meal was onion soup or oatmeal. At least the curry has spices."

"It looks like dog food," Renjun says.

"Didn't think we were grading presentation too."

"Of course we are. At least one third of the experience is presentation."

"No way. This is a cafeteria. In the Arena. Not some fancy restaurant." So it goes.

All in all, the food isn't bad aside from a few off days. It's not great, or even good—it is the Arena, Jeno has a point—but it's not bad.

What's amazing is that Renjun and Jeno can talk about this or similarly mundane topics for so long. Renjun says something, and one of Jeno’s trademark smiles spreads across his face, eyes curving into crescents.

Donghyuck stirs his water with a spoon, and watches them through narrowed eyes.

Renjun pushes Jeno playfully. "You're dumb."

"Hey, that’s unfair," Jeno says, though he laughs.

Donghyuck stops stirring his water. "What's the point of figuring out what food’s the worst? It's not like we have a choice what they feed us, either way," he says to Jaemin.

"Beats me," Jaemin says.

"This conversation is stupid," Donghyuck says, though not loudly enough for Jeno and Renjun to overhear.

He stands up with an unneeded clattering of utensils. "I'm going to head back," he says, almost an announcement. Jeno perks up at Donghyuck's voice, the way he always does these days. Unlike usual, he doesn't pick up his tray to follow. Because he has been talking, he hasn't finished his food yet, and there's the extra detail that he's midway in conversation with Renjun.

"Catch you later," Jeno says, smiling at Donghyuck like he's the world. Donghyuck's fingers tighten around his tray.

Donghyuck smiles back sweetly. Too sweet, honey dripping with poison.

Donghyuck picks at his nails as he asks Jeno, "So, are you interested in him?"

Jeno turns to him, bewildered. He doesn't understand the question.

So Donghyuck asks again. "Are you interested in Renjun?"

Only Donghyuck would have the audacity to ask in front of all four of them, including Renjun himself.

"Should I leave?" Renjun asks.

"No, stay," Donghyuck says, again with that honey sweet tone.

Jaemin expects Jeno to deny it, the way he always does when there's any implication of him liking someone else. Not because he has to, given the way they've defined their relationship, but because he is helplessly, foolishly honest. Even if he doesn't state his feelings outright, keeping just a step from crossing that line, he doesn't try to play games.

But today there's something unreadable in Jeno's expression.

Donghyuck has never asked this question in a serious way, like it meant anything. It was always a joke, light teasing, sometimes a bit of a challenge, daring Jeno to fool around more instead of less. Teasing him for wasted opportunity. Jeno has cracked once or twice—it's hard not to after this much time, but even when he's kissed someone else, Donghyuck never sounded like he minded. He has even encouraged it. He isn't teasing this time. Jaemin isn't sure what's different. Maybe it's just that Renjun and Jeno are friends, like he and Donghyuck used to be.

"Why are you asking?" Jeno says.

For a moment, Donghyuck is stunned. It passes. "Just curious," he says.

Jeno looks at Donghyuck, only at him. It's as if Jaemin and Renjun aren't in the room. Jaemin doesn't know how Donghyuck doesn't see this. The answer to Donghyuck's question is already obvious.

"Does it matter to you either way?" Jeno asks softly. While Donghyuck sounds flippant, Jeno sounds like each word has been turned over in his head before coming out his mouth, maybe for months.

Donghyuck flops on his bed. "No," he says. "I guess not."

Jeno lowers his head. "I thought so," he says, quiet enough that it was probably for himself, though Jaemin hears.

When Jaemin closes his eyes, his last match replays in his head. Or rather than his last match, that last moment. The closed eyes, the mouthed, "Thank you". The wordless cry of pain juxtaposed against the stillness on his opponent's face. Jaemin doesn't understand.

Jaemin could be wrong. It could have been "Fuck you". Jaemin knows he isn't.

Thank you. For what?

It's not that Jaemin feels guilty about it, nor is he particularly sad about the boy's passing. He could be sad about how little he feels, but even that doesn’t bother him. The death was inevitable. He's been prepared for it since the match was scheduled. It's not the first time he had to kill someone he knows.

He would have done it over again, as many times as needed. He has always put himself first. They all do.

But it is the first time he has killed someone who hasn't fought back.

He doesn't understand that, the not fighting. It's a thread of emotion he can't follow, that slips through his fingers, a disconnect, a blip in the system.

A knock on his bedpost shakes him from his thoughts.

Renjun stands below him, his head angled up. Sunlight lines the curve of his slender neck.

"Hey, you ok?" he asks.

Jaemin shifts himself into a sitting position and crosses his legs. Leans forward so that his head hangs over the edge of the bed. "Is there a reason I shouldn't be?"

He pats the space beside him, indicating that Renjun can come up. If Renjun is surprised by the invitation, it doesn't show on his face, though he hesitates before putting a hand on the first rung of the ladder.

He climbs up and sits. Not next to Jaemin, but across from him. He also crosses his legs.

"You seem off," Renjun says.

"Off? How so?"

Renjun toys with the edge of Jaemin's sheet, likely considering his words. But it's Renjun, so even with consideration, he's frank. "You seem shaken. You aren't talking much, and it's like you're brooding about something." He glances up, meets Jaemin's eyes. "Is it because of your last match?"

Jaemin holds Renjun's gaze. He resists the urge to snap back, but barely. "I seem shaken? How long do you think I've been in the Arena, Renjun? You think I would be fazed by a match?"

The corner of Renjun's mouth twitches. "Sorry," he says stiffly. "I guess I was wrong."

He turns to climb back down, but Jaemin grabs his arm mid-turn.

"Why did you think this match would shake me up?"

Renjun sits back down with some reluctance. "I don't know...maybe because you knew him. Because you slept together."

"Does that make a difference?" Jaemin says with a small laugh. He knows he sounds cold, but he can't dial it back. Renjun can't honestly be this naive.

"Didn't you care about him at all?" The tone isn't accusing, but the words speak for themselves.

"So this is an interrogation. Is that why you came up here?"

"No," Renjun says. Anger darts into his expression and away, lightning quick, but Jaemin doesn't miss it. "But I can leave if that's how you feel."

"No, don't leave," Jaemin says. He pulls Renjun closer so that they're facing each other again, their knees almost touching. "Tell me why you're asking these things."

Renjun shakes off Jaemin's hand. "I thought that since you comforted me when I was feeling down last time, I could do the same for you. I see now that I was mistaken. You aren't feeling bad and you don't need comfort. My bad."

Renjun moves to leave again, but Jaemin catches his arm again.

"We all need comfort sometimes," he says. He moves closer to Renjun again.

"Do you?" Renjun asks. Even this close, when the other boys would usually be eyeing Jaemin's lips—he knows they look good and very very kissable—or lower, Renjun focuses on his eyes, trying to read what's there. Jaemin would tell him it's an impossible task, but he doesn't mind Renjun losing himself in his eyes. Jaemin is not easy to read. He doesn't know what he's thinking himself half the time.

"I do." It comes out more raw than Jaemin intends. "There is a way you can comfort me."

Without warning, he leans forward and closes the gap between them. His lips press against Renjun's. Renjun's lips feel softer than they should be for someone who has been in the Arena for months. It crosses Jaemin's mind that he might be dipping into Jaemin's lip balm stash, and Jaemin kind of likes the idea.

Renjun's eyes widen. He doesn't react, not right away. He doesn't go pliable or jerk away, so Jaemin presses forward, moving his lips enough to coax but not demand.

Renjun makes a small gasp, parting his lips. It's enough for Jaemin to lick at his mouth, but he doesn't deepen the kiss. Renjun tastes of apples and faintly of the meat from lunch, but Jaemin doesn't mind.

Renjun's hand grips at Jaemin's arm. Jaemin presses him back against the wall.

Jaemin knows Renjun remembers what he saw happen on this bed that night. If he didn't, Jaemin would make him remember, but Renjun remembers.

Jaemin licks at Renjun's mouth again, and Renjun makes a noise of frustration like he wants more. His eyes widen at the sound he's made, mortified. Jaemin smiles into the kiss, and Renjun feels it. He glares, and pushes Jaemin back.

He wipes a hand across his mouth.

“I already told you…”

“That you’re not interested? Then say it again now, so that I believe you.”

Renjun can't. Like Jeno, he is honest to a fault. Their limit for acting only goes so far. He can’t hide the hunger in his gaze, and he knows it.

Jaemin leans forward and snakes his tongue into Renjun's mouth. Whatever resolve Renjun had seems to crumble. His hand tightens on Jaemin’s arm. Renjun's mouth is warm and wet, inviting, and when his tongue moves against Jaemin’s, Jaemin knows he’s won.

This is comfort. Head empty, tangled in the arms of a pretty boy, sinking deeper into the thoughtless void that he wishes would consume him.

His hands trail down Renjun's body, and he appreciates the way Renjun shivers at his touch, then tries to pretend it doesn't affect him.

Jaemin leans back to take in his handiwork, his hands resting on Renjun's hipbones.

Renjun's face is flushed, his lips red and slick with saliva. His dark hair falls messy against his forehead as his chest moves up and down.

"Do you want to comfort me now?" Jaemin asks. His fingers toy with Renjun's waistband. Because it seems right, he adds, "I like you. More than anyone else I've slept with."

Renjun scoffs. He pushes Jaemin back with sudden heat, and Jaemin lets himself be shoved onto his back on his blankets so that Renjun's on top of him. Oh? So Renjun likes it this way. Jaemin can roll with that.

Renjun plants his hands on Jaemin's chest and leans down. Jaemin thinks Renjun is going to kiss him again, but Renjun stops, his mouth a breath away from Jaemin's. Neither of them close their eyes.

"Are you going to kill me too, now?" Renjun says.

It's like someone doused Jaemin with a bucket of ice water. He goes cold all over.

He shoves Renjun off him with more force than intended. Renjun's elbow hits the wall, and though he doesn't make a sound, he cradles it after with his other hand. Jaemin can't bring himself to feel bad about it, not when his insides feel like ice.

Renjun's hair is disheveled, his shirt hangs low on his chest, and he looks so damn fuckable that Jaemin still wants him. But more of him wants Renjun gone.

"If you didn't want to sleep with me, you could have just said so," he spits.

"I didn't say that," Renjun says, though he doesn't say he wants to sleep with Jaemin either. "You're the one who doesn't want to sleep with me."

"What?"

Renjun sits back against the wall. "Don't play dumb."

Now Jaemin is angry, horny, and confused. "What are you going on about?"

"Maybe you do want to sleep with me, but you don't want me, not really. Donghyuck is the only one you want."

Jaemin goes colder, if that's even possible. A deeper cold, like everlasting winter. A cold that's always there but kept at bay because he can pretend no one knows it's there. "I don't know what you're—"

"You know. You know how you look at Donghyuck."

"You don't know anything about that."

"I know that everyone else is an escape to you. Or a distraction? I don't know. Honestly, can you tell me that I wouldn't just be your next toy?"

Jaemin says nothing. He puts a hand over his eyes. It's unraveling, everything he's been running from. Running, always running, but maybe no longer fast enough.

"I...you're my friend Renjun. You're not like—you're more than a distraction," he croaks, when he gets a coherent thought together.

"Comforting to know I rate so high," Renjun says. "It's not that I mind being used, I'd be getting something out of it too, but I better know that's what's happening. Don't lie to me and say you like me when you can't."

"I won't do it again," Jaemin says, because that's the best he can offer. "Don't tell Donghyuck. Please."

"I wasn't planning to. But don't you get tired of hiding it?"

"What else can I do?" Jaemin snaps.

"Tell him the truth? Or move on?"

Jaemin laughs, high and bitter. Move on? As if he hasn't tried. "If I tell him, I'll lose him. Do you have any idea what it's like to lose someone important to you? It would kill me, as if the Arena hasn't been trying hard enough already."

Too late Jaemin remembers Renjun has lost someone, and he hasn't.

Renjun's jaw sets, and he climbs back down from the bunk bed without another word to Jaemin. Jaemin doesn't apologize.

They don't talk for a while.

Jaemin thinks about apologizing, not for all that he's said, just for the last bit, but each time he thinks about it he thinks about Renjun knowing far too much. About Renjun knowing about Donghyuck. The sorry sours in his mouth.

Unexpectedly, Renjun apologizes to Jaemin, in a way. He doesn't say sorry, but he says it probably wasn't his place to bring Donghyuck up. When Jaemin tries once more to deny that he has those kind of feelings for Donghyuck, Renjun shuts him down.

"I won't bring it up, but don't lie to my face, Jaemin. Not if you actually consider me a friend."

So Jaemin swallows down his excuses.

He feels unbelievably guilty.

The third month in, and they're getting used to the monthly assemblies. After three months, there's very little attempt at pretense. The director doesn't need to give a speech about their duties to the Arena—they all know by now there's no choice.

The space is stifling hot, filled to the brim with their bodies.

Jaemin scratches an itch on his nose and wonders idly who will be chosen this time. He doesn't think it's entirely random selection, though the director says it is. So far no one in the top 100 ranks has been chosen.

He's a little worried for Renjun, but not much. Three boys volunteered for the experiments this month for some reason. Jaemin thinks they lost a bet. So the odds are good.

The first boy selected is rank 207, which is on the higher side but still fits Jaemin's theory that they're keeping the top fighters out of the experiments.

The director reaches again into the upside-down bowler hat in front of him, and pulls out another paper. The theatrics are there to honor his word of drawing their names from a hat. The hat could have only two slips of paper in it.

The director unfolds the paper.

"And our lucky second winner is Donghyuck Lee."

Jaemin's stomach drops. No. Not Donghyuck.

A crash.

Jaemin turns. Jeno is standing, his seat fallen behind him.

In a calm, clear voice, as if he rehearsed this, Jeno says, "Director, sir, if I may, I'd like to volunteer in his place."

Donghyuck snatches at Jeno's arm. "What the hell are you—"

Jeno jerks his arm out of Donghyuck's grasp, and Donghyuck sharpens, wild mad anger creeping in. Jaemin puts a hand on his shoulder. Without someone holding him back, it won't be long before he has Jeno on the ground.

"A volunteer?" The director beams. "Excellent. You certainly may take his place. I like to see initiative, even if it does come a bit late. Better late than never, I always say. And there would be no better example to the rest than our very own rank 2, Jeno Lee."

Jaemin didn't know the director recognized Jeno. The way the director looks at Jeno makes him uneasy, though of course the director should know who Jeno is. Jeno earns big bucks for the Arena, and there's videos of him everywhere.

All the more reason for Jaemin not to fear. The Arena wouldn't want to lose Jeno, so if the director is okay with him volunteering, it can't be life-threatening.

The director looks so pleased with himself it's as if he won the lottery.

Jaemin hates him.

Jaemin hates himself more. He can't help but be glad that it's not Donghyuck. He feels unbelievably guilty.

Donghyuck's fist slams into Jeno's jaw. There's a crack as it hits, and Jeno stumbles back. Donghyuck's whole body shakes with fury. He doesn't pull his punches even though it's Jeno. Jaemin notices, though, that he isn't wearing his steel knuckles with the sharp ridges on top. Those would do worse damage.

Donghyuck hits Jeno again, and Jeno falls on his butt on the ground. He doesn't fight back, and he doesn't try to stop Donghyuck, though his face must be throbbing.

"Get up so I can hit you again," Donghyuck says.

Jeno pushes himself up with one hand, slowly getting back to his feet. The other clutches his cheek.

"Fight back, damn you," Donghyuck says, but Jeno stands there.

Donghyuck strides over to the other side of their room, and pulls a chair over. He lifts it over his head.

Jaemin jumps to his feet. He didn't think Donghyuck would seriously injure Jeno, but he's been wrong before.

Donghyuck throws the chair full force. Jeno ducks, though the chair wasn't aimed at him anyway. It crashes into the wall, and crashes again when it hits the floor.

Jeno winces at each sound.

"How dare you? I never said you could take my place. How dare you?"

"It was my own choice. I wanted to do it," Jeno says.

"Huh? And where is my right to choose?" Donghyuck strides over to Jeno and fists both hands in his shirt. "Do you feel like a big hero now? Are you pleased with yourself?" he sneers. "Do you like having something over me?"

Jeno stiffens at the accusation, goes rigid from head to toe like it hurts more than the punches. "I'm not trying to be a hero. I didn't do it to make you owe me anything."

Donghyuck runs one finger down the side of Jeno's face. Curved, so that his nail scratches. "Of course you didn't. You did it for yourself, and you didn't think for one second how I'd feel. Fuck you."

It hits some mark, because Jeno flinches. Satisfied, Donghyuck lets go of Jeno's shirt and takes a step back.

"Donghyuck, please. I didn't want to hurt you. I wanted to—"

"What, you wanted to be part of experiments? We all know that's a goddamned lie. And I'm not hurt. Like I would be hurt by you being an idiot." That's a lie too, but lies roll of Donghyuck's tongue like water. "I'm disgusted and I'm offended and I hope the experiments are fucking painful as hell." Donghyuck's voice trembles at the end, a tiny crack in his wrath.

"I'm sorry," Jeno says softly. "I couldn't bear the thought of them taking you to the labs."

"How do you think I feel?"

"I know. I was selfish."

"Fuck you."

Despite his words, Donghyuck lets Jeno step closer to him. "I hate this. What about your grand plans?" Donghyuck says.

"Those are still the same. The director recognizes me now, which might work in our favor. That's one good thing to come of this."

"I don't want to hear what good things came out of this. The director won't recognize you after they've fucked you up in the labs."

Jaemin interjects, "If it helps, none of the boys selected over the past two months seem any different. None of them are dead, at least."

Donghyuck glares at Jaemin, whose side are you on? To which Jaemin's response would be his own side. Yet the tension in Donghyuck's shoulders eases slightly.

"And logically, Jeno's rank 2. they won't want to risk him. He's not as expendable as the rest of them."

Saying this isn't only for Jeno and Donghyuck's peace of mind. It eases Jaemin's guilt. Guilt for wanting Donghyuck. Guilt for being happy Jeno's taken Donghyuck's place. Guilt for wondering, if only for a second, what would happen if Jeno didn't come back from the experiments.

Donghyuck beats a fist against Jeno's chest, but without half as much force.

"I hate you," he says, but he lets his head fall on Jeno's shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm still mad at you," Donghyuck says.

"I know." Jeno nuzzles Donghyuck's hair.

Jaemin turns away. He catches Renjun's gaze. It's far too knowing.

When Donghyuck said he was still mad, he was serious. Starting sometime the next day, he avoids Jeno like the plague. He eats meals later or earlier, and leaves when Jeno arrives. He hacks up a lot of bots in the training facilities.

Jaemin thinks it might be because one of the boys in the experiments dies in a match that same day.

"He died the normal way," Jaemin points out to Donghyuck. The normal way of being killed by his opponent. Jaemin didn't notice anything unusual, and Jaemin notices a lot.

"Please, I'm not concerned about that," Donghyuck says. "I'm just making sure Jeno knows his actions have consequences."

Jeno can handle Donghyuck's anger, but he can't take the cold shoulder, the absence. He tries to catch Donghyuck, but Donghyuck's hard to catch. He's somehow always walking in the opposite direction, somehow always talking to someone else, and look I've got to go.

"I've already heard his apologies, what else could he say?" Donghyuck says.

Jeno is predictable in that way, especially to Donghyuck who knows him like the back of his hand. He wants to say sorry, he wants to explain, but Donghyuck already knows any explanation he could give.

"Him and his fucking savior complex. When will he learn that I don't want to be saved?"

"He never learns," Jaemin says.

"This time, he will," Donghyuck says.

So Donghyuck isn't there when Jeno gets the notification to go to the labs for the first time. It's so obvious that it hurts him that Donghyuck isn't there. Out of them all, Jeno is the easiest to read. He wears his heart on his sleeve.

"Want me to come with?" Renjun offers. Usually Jeno would refuse. He doesn't want to make it a big deal, but the days without Donghyuck have worn him down. Jaemin suspects he's more afraid than he lets on, but Jaemin doesn't try to damage Jeno's currently delicate facade of strength by offering kindness. Renjun doesn't care about that, and with that one jab, Jeno crumbles.

"Yes, I'd like that," Jeno says.

Not long after they leave, Donghyuck enters the room. He jabs a thumb in the direction they left in. "Where are they going?"

It amuses Jaemin how hard he's trying to sound nonchalant. At the same time he doesn't want to break the news. This is what Jaemin gets for staying behind.

Jaemin says what he has to.

Donghyuck perks up at clicking from the door, but deflates when he realizes it's not the sound of a key.

The door swings open to reveal Renjun.

When there's no one around to see, Renjun always opens their door by picking the lock with the hairpins or paper clips he stole from the Exchange. He says it's to keep from getting rusty, but Jaemin thinks he wants to show off.

"They didn't let me stay," Renjun offers by way of explanation.

Jeno gets back over an hour later. He is a little unsteady on his feet.

Donghyuck must be worried enough to forgo his anger at least temporarily, because he goes to Jeno without hesitation. Jaemin and Renjun follow.

Closer up, Jaemin sees that Jeno's eyes are dilated. Nothing else seems out of the ordinary.

Jeno throws his arms around Donghyuck. "I missed you," he says, too loud.

Jaemin and Renjun look at each other. Donghyuck is startled, but he enfolds Jeno in a hug back.

It's not like Jeno to be so affectionate in public. Though he wears his heart on his sleeve, he doesn't usually say his feelings aloud.

Jeno buries his head in the crook of Donghyuck's neck.

"You smell good," he says.

He actually giggles. This is mildly concerning.

"I know I smell good, but are you okay Jeno?" Donghyuck must be worried. A public display of concern is as rare for him as a public display of affection is for Jeno. Donghyuck grips Jeno's chin and lifts it. Jeno allows himself to be steered away from Donghyuck's neck with some reluctance, but he keeps his arms around Donghyuck.

"I feel great. You smell soooo good," Jeno says. His speech slurs together. "I feel great because you're talking to me again."

Donghyuck pointedly ignores this, though a hint of red creeps up his neck.

"What did they do to you?"

"Normal checkup stuff. Height, weight, vitals, and I think they checked my muscle and bone density? They gave me a shot."

"Did it hurt?"

"No, but my tongue's tingly." Jeno sticks out his tongue like this will show them what he means. "My body feels light." His arms move lower, encircling Donghyuck's waist. "Your eyes are so pretty."

"They drugged you," Jaemin says.

Jeno cocks his head to the side. "Maybe?"

Jeno leans forward and pecks Donghyuck on the lips. Donghyuck startles again, but when Jeno pulls back, Donghyuck leans forward with hunger, ever the predator. He kisses Jeno fiercely.

"Gross, get a room," Renjun says.

Donghyuck smirks at Renjun. "This is my room."

Jeno smiles at Donghyuck stupidly, breathless.

"I like you, I like you so much." He smiles at them all. "I like you all."

"I like you too," Donghyuck says.

"Really?" Jeno's eyes light up. With his pupils dilated, it's almost comical.

"Of course I do, you idiot."

Jeno's elation fades, and his face falls. The sudden change is jarring. Even Donghyuck doesn't understand.

"I wish you were mine," Jeno breathes. "I wish you were mine alone."

Jaemin's breath catches. Jeno has always been clear about letting Donghyuck have his freedom, about avoiding crossing this line. Suddenly Jaemin needs to know how Donghyuck will respond.

Donghyuck simply laughs. "You're fucking high, Jeno."

Jeno wakes up with a small headache, but no other symptoms.

"Should have drank more water before I slept," he croaks.

Renjun recounts what happened after Jeno returned with ruthless detail, leaving out nothing even when Jeno's face goes a nice shade of crimson.

When he gets to the part where Jeno asked Donghyuck to be his, Jeno goes still, and color drains from his face. He remembers, of course. He remembers it all, but if it weren't said aloud, Jaemin is sure he would brush it under the rug.

He doesn't say anything still, and lets Renjun continue the retelling. And Donghyuck's eyes are on him, noting every change in his expression, nothing that change most of all. Jeno's eyes are anywhere but on Donghyuck.

Jeno never wants to disappoint Donghyuck, and now that he's sure he's done that, he doesn't want to see it. If Jeno looked, he'd see Donghyuck isn't disappointed. Donghyuck’s thinking. About what, Jaemin isn't sure. Jaemin just knows he'd fork over a lot of dough to find out.

"I was pretty high, huh?" Jeno says at the end, with an awkward laugh.

Donghyuck opens his mouth. Jaemin's heart stutters with anticipation, and the discordant pulse of jangling nerves. Did he like it? Did he hate it? Is he going to drop Jeno like a ton of bricks?

"I hope you getting high doesn't mean PDA every time," Renjun says. Donghyuck closes his mouth, though he's amused with how embarrassed Jeno appears. Damn it, Renjun.

Renjun's tone switches to concern. "You feel okay though? They didn't do anything else to you?"

"Yeah, I feel fine aside from this headache. The shot was it. I have to go back every Friday though, so sorry if I'm any trouble."

What an idiot, Jaemin thinks. This is so like Jeno, apologizing for something that isn't his fault. Apologizing for being the one in danger, with a sweet, uncertain smile, worried about the blunders he might make toward them, the inconvenience he could be, instead of worrying for himself.

Jaemin gave up trying to hate him a long time ago. He settles for calling him an idiot. Stupid, sweet, endearing idiot.

It doesn't make Jaemin any less jealous.

"You shouldn't worry about that," Renjun says.

Donghyuck murmurs his agreement, though he stares at Renjun from the side of his eyes, under his lashes, like he wishes he said it first.

"Don't worry," Donghyuck repeats.

Jeno relaxes. Donghyuck is talking to him again, and his new transgression of wanting Donghyuck for himself is apparently forgiven. If it was a transgression at all.

Jeno seems to think it was. Jaemin isn't so sure.

One of the irrevocable truths of this world: Jeno is an idiot. He doesn’t properly hide what he doesn’t want them to see.

Renjun goes through their shared screen, swiping through the different files, messages, and videos collected over the years. He's browsing, not looking for anything specific, and he's gotten permission from the rest of them to check out whatever he wants.

The Arena can monitor everything in the screen, so they don't keep anything personal there anyway.

Jaemin sits with Renjun as he browses because he doesn't have anything better to do. They get through notifications for matches that they were too lazy to delete and a lot of videos that Jaemin downloaded from the net to review before matches, before getting to the better stuff. There's a folder that Jaemin forgot about with hilarious screen caps of Jaemin, Jeno, and Donghyuck mid-match. They used to add to the folder after every match, before they got a fourth roommate and before they'd gotten through so many matches they didn't care anymore. Renjun and Jaemin spend a solid thirty minutes going through the photos and laughing at the worst ones.

Jaemin makes a mental note to add the pictures to the new usb he got at the Exchange.

He makes another note to delete the ugly ones of him before someone else can save those. He doesn't know if Renjun steals usbs too.

They get to a folder Jaemin hasn't seen before, labeled "In Memory". It has to be one of Jeno's folders, because only he would use such a lame and cheesy name.

Renjun clicks in, and opens the video.

The screen goes black.

It takes Jaemin too long to realize what the video must be. By then, the no, no, please has already begun.

"We shouldn't watch this," Jaemin begins, but stops. Renjun has frozen, face fixed toward the screen, the blue glow of the screen light playing against it.

"Chenle," Renjun whispers.

Jaemin can't process that Renjun knows Chenle. It doesn't make sense. He only knows that it’s all the more reason Renjun shouldn't see this. He reaches for the clicker in Renjun's hand, but as if Renjun senses his intentions, he throws the clicker toward the corner. It clatters and slides across the ground, meters away.

I wish I had died there.

And no, Jaemin can't watch this again. He won't. He watches Renjun's face instead.

The screaming begins, the crunching and tearing, and it's happening all over but it's Renjun instead of Jeno, Renjun instead of Jeno, deja vu with a swap. Just like Jeno, he doesn't look away from the screen, not until the end with the piano music. Not even after the end when it goes dark, the video ends, and the screen lights up again with the blue display background. In the blue screen light Renjun feels a stranger, and Jaemin doesn't know if its the light or his imagination, but he thinks he sees a horrible horrible madness blooming in Renjun's eyes, unfurling like the petals of a fallen rose.

Renjun doesn't move until the door opens. Jaemin doesn't know if it's seconds or minutes later. The timing is horrible.

Then like an unwound spring Renjun's on Jeno before Jaemin can blink. With all the force in his small body, and the power of surprise, he pushes Jeno into the wall harder than Jaemin thought he could. That's not enough to hurt Jeno, but it gets close. The fork from so long ago is in his hand, poised over Jeno's face.

"Why do you have that?" Renjun's voice cuts sharp as a knife. Donghyuck tries to interfere, but Renjun slams his elbow into his chest. Donghyuck grunts. Bad move, because Jeno roars and shoves Renjun to the ground.

Jeno is instantly sorry after, but Renjun doesn't seem to care. He doesn’t seem to notice that he should be in pain or that he's been pushed. "Why do you have it?" he screams, like he's not the one on the ground.

Jeno flinches back from the wild rage. They've never seen Renjun like this.

Renjun hurls the fork at Jeno. Jeno ducks and it hits the wall behind him.

"What is going on...?" Jeno sees the screen, with the folder "In Memory" open, and he knows.

Jeno doesn't understand why it's driven Renjun to this. Jaemin doesn't either. Jeno tries to explain. "It was my first match, and I didn't kill my opponent. They sent me this after." His voice grows thick. "To tell me I shouldn't have done it."

Renjun quiets, but the madness boils there, a pot bubbling over, though it's no longer aimed at Jeno. Jeno steps back from him even though he of all people has no reason to fear Renjun. "Who are they?" Renjun says, quiet and slow.

"The Arena. The higher ups?"

Renjun screams again, the wild cry of an animal, before crumpling in on himself. He lies in a heap in the center of the floor, and his chest heaves as he sobs.

Donghyuck watches, and for a bizarre moment, the blue light against the side of his face, Jaemin thinks he smiles.

When his sobbing subsides, Jaemin gathers Renjun up and half-carries him up to his bunk. He's so light Jaemin feels like he could fade away. The way his body hangs limp in Jaemin's arms, putting enough effort to pull himself up the rungs but no more, doesn't help.

As soon as he's on the bed, he curls into a ball and closes his eyes. Jaemin pulls his covers over him. He doesn't move, doesn't try to stop Jaemin, doesn't say thanks.

That's okay.

Jaemin tries not to make the bed creak as he crawls back around to the ladder.

"Don't go," Renjun says. Jaemin turns. Renjun's eyes are still closed.

Jaemin stays.

Jaemin wakes with Renjun's body pressed against his, his arm around Renjun. He feels small in Jaemin's arms. He doesn't know how they ended up in this position when he's sure he fell asleep with their backs pressed against each other. He untangles himself before Renjun wakes, and climbs down from the bunk.

Jeno gets used to the shots. He never gets as high as the first time, though he calls Donghyuck babe once to everyone's disgust (but Donghyuck might have been faking the disgust, Jaemin can never be sure with him). He doesn't sway on his feet anymore. They make sure he gets water before he goes to sleep, and he doesn't wake up with a headache.

"Are the shots even doing anything?" Donghyuck asks.

"I think they're making me stronger," Jeno says. He put his fist through a bot this week, so Jaemin believes him.

Donghyuck shakes his head. "You should have let me be part of the experiments then. I could use the muscle, but you? This is wasted on you."

"You can still volunteer," Renjun points out.

"Hell no."

Jeno pretends Renjun didn't almost go ballistic on them. When Renjun says sorry, he says, "What for? I'm sure you were shocked. It's fine." Jeno does the nice thing where he sits Renjun down and explains what happened in and after his first match, though it pains him to recount it. Renjun does the nice thing where he acts like he has an explanation too. "He was someone I knew," he says.

Jaemin can't pretend. It wasn't like the video played and was forgotten. Jaemin sees flashes of Renjun's new madness everywhere. Something in Renjun has unhinged itself loose, and Jaemin sometimes thinks he sees it peeking through Renjun's eyes.

Donghyuck doesn't want to pretend. He prods. "Who was he to you? Come on, tell me."

When Renjun whirls and snarls, "None of your business", something curling beneath the surface, Donghyuck laughs.

Jeno's increasing strength starts to get out of hand. Jaemin spars with him hand to hand because it's good practice and because he wants the challenge even though he's a range fighter and rarely has to resort to hand to hand combat in the matches.

When Jeno throws him over his shoulder, the impact on the ground knocks the breath out of his lungs.

He sees stars around Jeno's over-worried face. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to throw you that hard," Jeno says. The crease in his brow makes Jaemin laugh, even though, ow, it does hurt.

"Maybe we should stop for today," Jeno says.

Jaemin pushes himself up, ignoring his complaining back. "No, let's go again," he says.

Jeno makes him wait five minutes.

The director comes to Jeno's next match. It's rare for the director to come to any of the matches, but he does have to make a public appearance every now and then. It's a good thing Jeno doesn't pay attention to who is in the stands, because the hate he feels toward the director would throw him off.

The match is fast and clean, Jeno's style. His large sword goes through his opponent like butter.

He stands over his opponent for longer than usual, staring at his own hands.

The director stands when he claps.

Two days later, the director calls Jeno to his office. It's not his real office, which is outside the main buildings of the Arena, separated from the boys by layers of concrete, locked doors, and hordes of dogs.

It's his Arena office, where he briefs the commanders of the dogs, has meetings with the other higher ups, and ever, ever so rarely summons one of the boys.

Jaemin and Renjun trail Jeno without his knowledge, two shadows at his back. Donghyuck is at a match or he'd insist on coming too. Jeno would stop them from coming if he knew, saying it's too dangerous. Jaemin is disconcerted to find that Renjun is better at moving without sound than he is. It's entirely unfair—Jaemin has been sneaking around the Arena forever.

Three dogs escort Jeno into the office. Three, just for him! That's the reputation Jeno has.

Renjun and Jaemin duck around to the side of the office rather than the front. The front has the cams directed at it at all times, while the left side corner has none. There's not even a dog walking around the perimeter. Jaemin and Renjun press their ears against the wall, standing back to back so they can see if someone's coming from either side. The office isn't even soundproofed, and the walls are thin enough to hear muffled conversation. Soundproofing is expensive, last Jaemin knew from the outside, but he'd expect the Arena to be able to afford it for the director's office.

Sometimes Jaemin thinks the blind spot and the thin walls are intentional, to show that the director isn't afraid of them. Come and listen. What can you do?

"You have surpassed my expectations, Jeno," the director says. "I was so pleased when you..."

Jeno mumbles something Jaemin can't hear. Probably something boring, like "Thank you, sir".

Jaemin knows he's right when he hears, "No, no, no need to thank me. You are the brave volunteer."

More mumbles from Jeno.

"...the opportunity. Taking the place of a friend, what is his name again? Yes, Donghyuck..."

The director laughs, a harsh cawing sound.

"You do hate me after all. You are as easy to read as they say! That is some face. Oh, I am fortunate. Don't look so surprised...hate is the hardest emotion to hide..."

Is it as hard to hide as love?

"They all hate me at first. Sicheng here did too." Sicheng must be the director's assistant. He's with the director at all times as far as Jaemin can tell.

The director must have paced to the other side of the room because his voice goes faint. Jaemin presses himself harder against the wall but can't catch a word. Gradually the director's voice swings back into range, along with footsteps.

"Hate is good, for now. You will change."

Renjun pulls at Jaemin's sleeve. "We've got to go," he hisses.

Jaemin realizes the footsteps aren't the director's. They dart away down the corridor.

Something in Renjun has unhinged itself loose, and Jaemin sometimes thinks he sees it peeking through Renjun's eyes.

Jaemin comes back once to the blue light of the screen bathing Renjun's body in a pale cast. Nothing plays on the screen, and Renjun sits in front of it, motionless. His eyes reflect blue, and when he turns back and sees Jaemin, he looks through him. Jaemin thinks he hears echoes of screaming.

Renjun doesn't scream or shout again, and perhaps that scares Jaemin more. When he's with them it's like nothing has changed. He laughs at Jeno's jokes that no one else finds funny, he half-teases half-argues with Donghyuck, and he has rambling conversations with Jaemin that don't go anywhere but don't really have to. He laughs and talks at the right times, and he's as scathing and as direct as they've come to expect.

It's like they gone through a blip, and it's been erased from the system. Recycled, gone, purged for parts.

Except.

Except when Donghyuck will bring up Chenle and Renjun looks like he wants to strangle him. Not like the I'm-going-to-strangle-you-for-that pounding fist on the desk frustration Donghyuck revels in bringing out in the best of them, but like he really wants to strangle him. Like he could put two hands on his friend's neck and tighten and tighten until there's nothing left.

Except when Renjun spaces out and his fingers curl in his hands. Sometimes his fingernails draw blood and he doesn't notice.

For a while Renjun's matches have gone par de course. He's mostly placed against similarly inexperienced fighters, and he pulls off wins but not by much. Luck saves him more than once. He's not fighting to win, or to kill, but because he's not sure what else to do. Jaemin thinks it's his pride that keeps him alive. His will to live isn't as strong as theirs, might not be strong enough to pull him through, but his will not to die by the hand of an incompetent is hellishly strong.

He keeps his distance from his opponents, and does the knife and gun thing Jaemin prescribed for him. Jaemin keeps telling him it won't work forever, and to switch it up, but Renjun doesn't listen. His matches aren't particularly interesting, but they keep him alive. His kills aren't clean like Jeno's, but they're probably the next best thing. He doesn't inflict unnecessary pain, or make it a performance, doesn't care if it's pretty. He throws and shoots, throws and shoots. It's like what happened at the end of his first match never happened. When the opponent is down, it's done. No victory cry, no dramatics.

In Renjun's most recent match, the paradigm shifts. When his opponent falls over from a hit in the side, Renjun sweeps his eyes over the audience. He bounds over to the boy, holds his knife up and draws a line in the air, the knife's tip pointed at the audience. The audience cheers at the show, and cheers as Renjun drives the knife through the boy's heart. The boy cries out beneath him, but Renjun only has eyes for the audience. He twists the knife in.

When the cries end, he almost seems disappointed.

He pulls the knife out, and blood sprays across his cheek.

"That wasn't an easy way to die," Jaemin remarks later. He wants to run a thumb over the blood on Renjun's cheek.

"So?" Renjun says. Jaemin looks into Renjun's eyes, and something's missing there. "Are you saying he deserved an easier death than Chenle?"

Renjun regrets it afterward. He says he's sorry twice. Jaemin doesn't ask what he's sorry for. Jaemin is simultaneously disappointed and relieved.

Until it happens again in the next match.

It's strange that Renjun becomes more vulnerable at the same time, like a shard of glass, sharp around the edges but so easy to shatter.

Sometimes at night when Renjun thinks they've all fallen asleep, he sits up and cradles his knees to his chest. He looks at the faraway city with its lights.

He sits there now, hugging his knees to his chest, though it's day. When Jaemin enters the room, he lifts his head and stretches out his legs. He assumes a casual pose, leaning back on his hands.

"Hey, sit with me?" he says.

Jaemin clambers up to Renjun's bunk and scoots in beside him. He leaves a gap because he doesn't want to test Renjun's boundaries when he looks so far away.

Renjun shifts closer to him, closing the gap. He leans against Jaemin.

He peers up at Jaemin, his eyes dark and wide. Something unfurls there, but it isn't madness. Jaemin still sees all the Renjun he's grown to know and understand, not the eyes of a stranger.

They sit in silence for a while.

Slowly Renjun lifts his head from Jaemin's shoulder and presses a hand against Jaemin's chest. When Jaemin doesn't stop him, he shifts forward, his body weight pressing into Jaemin. He circles an arm around Jaemin's neck and pulls him down.

Before Jaemin knows it, they're tangled in Renjun's bed sheets, Renjun's mouth on his. Renjun is hungry and needy in a way that he’s never been before. Though that doesn’t feel like the Renjun he knows, it doesn’t feel wrong either.

Jaemin can’t resist it. He never can when they want him. Especially because it’s Renjun, who always acts like he doesn’t want Jaemin, who only looks at him that way when he thinks Jaemin isn’t watching. He’s a fool because he thinks Jaemin doesn’t notice, but Jaemin likes that.

Jaemin’s hands explore Renjun's body, his fingers trailing down every rib but he doesn't go lower. His fingers dance on Renjun's waistline.

Renjun juts his hips against Jaemin and grinds, and the blood rushes down between Jaemin's thighs. He's not ready for this.

"Hold on Renjun, I—"

"Comfort me?" Renjun says. He bites his lip, nervous, and that drives Jaemin a little wild.

But he forces himself to say, "You have to be sure. After last time, you know I can't—"

Renjun presses two fingers against Jaemin’s lips, shutting him up. "I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t sure. I know what I’m getting into.”

"So you have been thinking about it,” Jaemin says, his mouth moving against Renjun’s fingers.

Renjun turns askance at that, color creeping up his face. Jaemin waits until Renjun turns back to him. Renjun’s eyes narrow, but Jaemin’s patient, and he won’t let Renjun off easy. He waits while Renjun almost squirms, torn between what he wants to get and what he doesn’t want to give. “Fine, I have,” Renjun hisses.

It sends a thrill down Jaemin’s spine.

"I don't want you to feel used,” Jaemin says, but he's already given in. There’s a part of him that suspects it could ruin their friendship, but he didn’t get to where he is by listening to the voice of caution.

"We'll be using each other. It's okay." Renjun’s voice comes out breathy, impatient. Jaemin doesn't know if Renjun means what he says. But he can’t bring himself to care.

Jaemin has always been weak for the pretty ones.

In the afternoon haze, he pushes Renjun down. Renjun isn't pliable or soft despite his delicate frame. He's demanding. He's hasty, and that just makes Jaemin want to tease him, pressing soft kisses down his neck until Renjun snarls with frustration.

The moment splinters into fragments, overlaid on each other like the view in a kaleidoscope. The curve of Renjun's ass, his breath hot against Jaemin's mouth, his teeth on Jaemin's ear biting too hard (and Jaemin likes that), a hand pulling in Jaemin's hair, how warm and tight and delicious he is. How he matches Jaemin's pace, how at some point he cracks and demands more, faster. As if he wants it to hurt, as if he wants Jaemin to break him. The sound of his voice when Jaemin is in him. He tries to hide it at first but later forgets to. The sound when he finishes.

How he lays there, breathless and spent. Smaller than Jaemin thought he should be, but baggy clothes can hide a lot. Jaemin wants to memorize the angles of his body.

Jaemin tries to press a kiss to his jaw after, but Renjun stops him. He turns aside.

"I don't need that. It's okay."

Jaemin frowns.

Sooner than he should, Renjun picks himself up and goes to clean himself off. He doesn't let Jaemin help him. Jaemin hears the shower turn on, feeling lost. Usually he takes care of his partners after—it's within his nature to want to do so.

When Renjun comes out, his hair dripping wet, he says, "Thanks." Like Jaemin's done him a simple favor. There’s an emptiness Jaemin isn’t used to in this lack of affection after, but maybe that's how Renjun wants it to be.

Another day in the stands, watching Jeno. He still puts his name in the lottery every week despite being in the experiments.

Renjun switched out the temp mask for a fox one. It fits him.

Things aren't awkward between them after, though maybe Jaemin should have considered that they're roommates before sleeping together. It makes it hard to hide it from Donghyuck and Jeno.

Donghyuck sits between them. His body is taut like a wire, as it always is when he watches Jeno in a fight. It's odd that when he's the one out there it's the opposite. He's completely relaxed. He laughs half the time.

Jaemin feels the most relaxed in Jeno's matches. It's not the throbbing heat of Donghyuck's matches, electric with a dusting of guilt; or the actual tension for Renjun's, the most likely of them to die; or the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears for his own. The nerves never died for him, though they've dulled by now.

Jeno's not likely to die. Jaemin knows there's no one who can give him a good fight except maybe the top ranked boy in the Arena. And Jeno's not going to be put together with that boy because losing one of the top two isn't worth the losses in betting and match tickets, at least not until their popularity soars enough that the Arena can charge a premium. A premium match like that would be set up months in advance, and advertised for weeks over the net.

Jaemin watches Jeno's matches to support, because he's a good friend. He doesn't understand what the spectators see in them. Jeno's kills are so clean they're almost sterile. He's strong enough that there's no challenge, no heart in mouth moments of fear, no drama. Just brutal, clean, fast work. They come to see an angel of death, not a match.

That's the problem, maybe. Jaemin has never been into angels.

Today Jaemin gets the drama he wants, though he's never wanted it for Jeno. Jeno's opponent gets in a lucky strike and knocks Jeno's sword away. It slides across the ground. It never occurred to Jaemin that no matter how strong Jeno is, when he's disarmed in front of a sword he's another boy just like them. Even an angel isn't invincible.

Donghyuck's hand finds his. Jaemin's fingers curl around Donghyuck's, and he squeezes. He can feel Donghyuck pulse jackrabbiting against his palm.

Jeno's opponent slashes at him again, and Jeno ducks. His opponent slashes again, wildly rather than accurately, scared to lose this chance he can't believe has come his way. Jeno avoids each one, but he gets no closer to where his sword has fallen.

Donghyuck's grip tightens on Jaemin's hand so much that it hurts. Jaemin doesn't make a sound.

He feels sick.

Even with Jeno out there fighting for his life, half of him can only think about how Donghyuck's hand feels in his. He tries not to think further, tries not to think at all. He refuses to look at Donghyuck, and watches Jeno, sick and afraid.

The tip of the knife nicks Jeno's side, right across the ribs. Jaemin winces. Jeno doesn't react to the pain, which is surprising even for him. Not even his facial expression changes. His opponent is surprised too, and is caught off guard when Jeno drops into a crouch and lunges forward.

Jeno tackles his opponent to the ground, wrenching the sword from his grasp. Instead of stabbing the boy and finishing it, Jeno tosses the sword aside.

He raises his fist and smashes it into the boy's face. The boy's nose must crack, though Jaemin can't hear it from so far up.

Donghyuck lets go of Jaemin's hand. He sits forward, mouth parting slightly, his eyes taking in the scene below. He rests his head on the palm of his hand and taps his upper lip with a finger.

Jaemin tries not to feel like there's something missing where Donghyuck's hand had been.

Jeno raises his fist and smashes the boy's face a second time. Then a third, and a fourth.

The boy raises his arms, trying to cover his face. Blood runs from his broken nose and gurgles out his mouth. His lips move and he may be trying to say something. He may be begging for mercy—he knows Jeno's match history as well as any of them.

Jeno punches the boy's face until his arms stop moving and go limp by his sides. The boys face is a mass of raw red flesh. There's nothing human left about it.

Jeno stands up slow from the body, his fist soaked with blood.

He looks at the body for a long, long time.

They don't get to see Jeno right away. He's whisked to the lab to get his Friday shot, scheduled right after the match. Funny how he ends up in the same place whether he's alive or dead. If he'd lost they would have whisked away his body just the same.

Jaemin doesn't know if he's ready to see Jeno with his fist covered with blood. What the hell had Jeno been thinking?

That isn't like Jeno, unless Jaemin's never known him at all. Donghyuck is silent on their way back. Jaemin can't tell what he's thinking. Even though Donghyuck's the one who likes the kill, he has never been that brutal.

"That was intense," Renjun says. The inflection of his voice doesn't contain nearly as much shock as Jaemin thinks it should, but then again, he hasn't known Jeno as long as the rest of them.

"He smashed in someone's head with his bare hands, Renjun. That's more than intense," Jaemin says.

"I take it he hasn't done this before," Renjun says.

"No."

"Why are you both so shocked? If you kill someone every week, and watch these matches all the time, wouldn't you crack some day? You can't stay clean forever. Everyone here becomes the same sort of fucked up."

Donghyuck whirls around. "Jeno is not like that. Jeno is different."

"Not anymore," Renjun says, eyes cold.

Donghyuck tackles him. He knocks Renjun's body against the back of the wall, and Renjun curses. Renjun yanks at his hair and they're rolling, tumbling across the ground.

Jaemin pulls them apart. It isn't easy and his eye almost gets clawed out. He has to remind them that there's cams in this hall.

"Don't you ever say that again," Donghyuck snarls.

"I'll say whatever—"

"Renjun, shut up," Jaemin says. "Please."

Renjun's eyes widen, then flash. "Of course you would take his side," he says. He cradles his arm, and laughs, a bitter dry sound.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Donghyuck says.

"It's not about sides," Jaemin says. "It just...that isn't Jeno. You haven’t been here that long yet. You don't know Jeno like we do."

Maybe Renjun registers how shaken Jaemin sounds, and how Donghyuck falls silent again when he'd usually be itching to finish the fight. His anger fades, replaced by a hint of shame.

"I guess I don't," he says at last, and doesn't meet their eyes.

Jeno gets back to their room sometime later. Donghyuck rushes toward him, but Jeno recoils from him.

"Jeno?" Donghyuck says, soft. His eyes betray his hurt.

"I can't touch you. Not after what I've done," Jeno says.

"What have you done that we haven't all done?" Donghyuck asks. He steps forward, and Jeno steps back, curling in on himself. Donghyuck doesn't let him run. He grabs Jeno's arm. Jeno stills, eyes wide, but he doesn't try to throw Donghyuck's arm off. It’s as if he's afraid of his own strength. "Jeno," Donghyuck says again. "You think you'll hurt me?" Donghyuck's voice is still soft, but it's gotten a sharp edge.

"Answer me, Jeno."

Jeno seems so small despite his strength. "I don't know," he whispers.

Donghyuck grips both of Jeno's arms and leans forward, bares his teeth. Jeno flinches. "You will never hurt me Jeno. I know it."

Jeno shudders under his gaze. "You saw me out there. I never thought I would hurt anyone like that, but I couldn't stop myself. I even wanted to do it. I don't even—I don't know myself anymore."

Donghyuck pulls Jeno closer, and shakes him. "I know you.”

All of a sudden, Jaemin understands. "It's the drugs," he says.

Jeno's head snaps up, and it's so easy to read the guilt on his face. Donghyuck stares at him. So Jeno's been hiding his secrets too.

"How long as this been going on?" Jaemin asks. How long has Jeno been pretending he's okay? How long has he been pretending the drugs did nothing but increase his strength?

"Since the beginning,” Jeno whispers. “I didn’t realize it because it was easy to ignore at first, but it’s always there now. It’s like there’s something in my head, making me want to…" His voice chokes off.

"Don't think about that,” Donghyuck commands. "Hold me, and focus on me."

He places Jeno's arms around him, and Jeno doesn't withdraw them, but he doesn't hold Donghyuck, not really.

"I said to hold me," Donghyuck snarls.

Jeno obeys because he can't help not wanting to disappoint Donghyuck. At first it's a mockery of it. He holds his arms loosely around Donghyuck, a careful amount of distance, afraid now to hold too tight. Afraid to break Donghyuck though he's the one breaking into crystalline fragments.

But Donghyuck tips himself backward, falling. Jeno gasps and reaches forward on instinct. He catches Donghyuck in his arms.

"See? You're still you," Donghyuck says.

Jeno can't help himself. He pulls Donghyuck toward him and holds him tight.

He shakes.

For the second time, Jaemin sees him cry.

Renjun and Jaemin fall together again and again. It's the same cycle. They kiss, they fuck, then they pretend they didn't. They don't talk about it.

He promises himself they'll talk soon. Next time.

But next time comes and he's savoring the taste of Renjun's lips, the curve of his back, the warmth that allows him to disregard everything else. He forgets. He wants to forget. He's weak like that.

Jaemin feels like he can taste Renjun's desperation when Renjun's hands card through his hair as he pushes him against the bathroom mirror. He wants to ask why Renjun kisses like it might be the last time.

He doesn't.

Not until the cycle plays itself out again, and Jaemin realizes they haven't really talked for weeks. When they’re not losing themselves in each other, Renjun slips out of his touches, shrugs off an arm on the shoulder a second sooner than he would have before, and Jaemin's a fool not to have noticed sooner.

Jaemin catches him when he's weak, lying down in Jaemin's sheets after they're finished, those weary few minutes before he peels himself up and goes to the shower.

"What are you afraid of?" Jaemin says.

Renjun looks up, surprised that Jaemin's spoken. Jaemin feels a twinge of guilt. He hasn't realized how much time has passed since this started. He's always been good at losing himself.

"I'm not afraid," Renjun says. He's a bad liar.

"You’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” Renjun says, too fast. Jaemin stares at him until he gets uncomfortable.

"I’m still your friend, Renjun," Jaemin says, running a hand down the side of Renjun's face. Renjun shivers. His hair is splayed against Jaemin's bed sheets. "Unless you don't want me to be."

He’s said these words before, but this time he means it.

Renjun doesn't speak.

"Tell me what you want," Jaemin says.

Renjun stares out the window. "Of course I want you to be. I just haven't done this before. I'm not used to it yet." Jaemin doesn't think that's the whole truth, but he doesn't push. The shadows hide Renjun's eyes.

“Is that why you hate affection?”

He's quiet for a while, before he says, "I let my brother come here to die. I don’t deserve affection."

That cuts Jaemin deep, though he doesn't know why. "Everyone deserves affection," he says, but Renjun doesn't react to it.

They sit side by side, watching the lights of the city before them.

They are two puzzle pieces that don't fit right, never quite able to fill in the gaps the other has.

The director summons Jeno to his office again. When Jeno comes back, he's elated. "I'm getting promoted. The director wants me to be an assistant to his assistant, starting next year. It's the first step," he says. The shadows under his eyes are darker than ever.

Jeno seems okay, until he's not. He wakes up in the middle of the night, stumbles over to Donghyuck's bed, and clings to him like a child.

"I can't live like this. I can't live wanting to kill," he mumbles, quiet so as not to wake the rest of them. Jaemin's already awake.

"You don't want to kill. It's the drugs," Donghyuck insists. "When you get off them, it'll go away."

"When will that happen?" Jeno says, voice rising. "When the hell will that happen?" He draws back as soon as the words out of his mouth. Fear clouds his features. He's never lost his temper so quickly at Donghyuck before, at least not that Jaemin's seen.

Donghyuck just pats his back and says, "Soon. Soon."

But he knows it's a lie.

After the night they talk again, Renjun starts to accept some of the affection. He doesn't get too close, but he lingers in Jaemin's arms a little longer, lets Jaemin slide a hand around his waist and hold it there.

He goes hot and cold, but Jaemin will take what he can get. Jaemin understands Renjun more now. Renjun doesn't want to want affection, but he can't help but want it. Now that he's had a taste, he craves it. He resists until he can't.

Sometimes they sit together long into the night, talking. Huddled under the same blanket, and on rare days, with Renjun's head against his shoulder.

Jaemin hasn't sought out another boy in almost a month. He still feels like he's running, still feels like he's looking for an escape, but Renjun's enough of one on his own.

He wonders if Renjun feels the same way.

They are two puzzle pieces that don't fit right, never quite able to fill in the gaps the other has. Jaemin starts to think that's okay.

Donghyuck paces the room. There's a crack in the wall from where Jeno slammed it with the side of his fist earlier. The video of Jeno beating his opponent's face to bloody pulp was on the cafeteria display today.

"That isn't me," Jeno says, but he doesn't sound like he believes it anymore.

It's the classic question. How long can you be part of the Arena before it's part of you? How long until you can't distinguish the voices in your head from your own? Jaemin never thought Jeno would crack. Now he isn't so sure.

"Don't go to the appointment this week. Pretend you're sick or something," Donghyuck says.

"You know I can't do that."

"Why not?" Donghyuck demands. "Are you even trying?"

"I'm so close to getting what I want. I can't back out now."

"How will you get what you want if all that’s you is gone?"

That's when Jeno slammed his fist against the wall, and left the room. Though Jeno keeps growing stronger, the hollows under his cheeks and the shadows under his eyes grow faster. He can't sleep at night. He's twitchy, and stalks through the halls like something hovers behind his back. He turns at noises no one else hears.

Jaemin caught him smoking a cigarette a while ago. Jeno, smoking, who always said it was a nasty habit, who derided the other boys who fell into it.

Donghyuck tasted it on his breath one day, and the next second Renjun was on the ground.

"You filched them for him, didn't you?" he accused.

Renjun turned away. "Just once. I thought it would get his mind off things. I was trying to help. I didn't know he'd keep wanting them."

Jaemin remembers Jeno stepping back from them, stricken, guilty, each of their words like a slap to his face.

Donghyuck stops pacing and sits down on his bed. Renjun and Jeno are out, so it's just the two of them, like old times. Donghyuck doesn't need to put up the front of strength he has been carrying over himself like a shroud the past several weeks, trying to pull Jeno together when he can't do it himself.

Donghyuck puts his head in his hands. "I've never thought this, but." His voice chokes off. "Sometimes now I think we're all going to die here. All of us."

Donghyuck can't be saying this, not Donghyuck, who wants to live the most out of them all.

When Donghyuck lifts his head, a single tear trails down the side of his face.

Jaemin stares at the track of the tear. It shines wet in the dim light. He wants to comfort Donghyuck, but he doesn't know how.

"Get it together," Jaemin says to Jeno. "Don't you see that Donghyuck's hurting because of you?"

Jeno flinches. Jeno has been so caught up in his own head that Jaemin shouldn't blame him, but he blames him anyway.

"I know you're hurting too, Jeno, but you're Jeno Lee. If there's anyone that can beat this, it's you," Jaemin says, with a conviction he doesn't feel. More softly, he adds, "You're not alone. We're all here for you."

"I know," Jeno says.

"Remember what you always said? Never let the Arena beat you."

Jeno snorts.

“You’re the one who said it,” Jaemin says. "And yeah, you said a lot of cheesy useless shit, but the difference between you and everyone else here is that you believed it. The Jeno I know would never give up this easy."

"I'm not giving up," Jeno says, stung.

"Then tell me you will overcome this."

Determination flares in Jeno’s eyes, some of that old conviction Jaemin's used to seeing in him. It’s almost enough to convince Jaemin that everything will turn out okay.

“I will,” Jeno says.

Between them, it's a promise.

Renjun isn't like Donghyuck, who nurtures the beast inside himself, letting it gorge on violence and blood. Renjun's more like Jeno. But Jeno's trying to confront his demons head on, and they aren't even his demons really. They're the demons of the Arena that have dug their claws onto him at last. Renjun pretends his demons don't exist.

His demons don't show, not until it's a bad day. On a bad day, they're all that's there. It's those days when he leaves a boy to bleed out in the Arena, multiple stab wounds across his chest.

When it's a bad day, Renjun comes back from his matches smeared with blood. He snaps at Donghyuck with insults meant to get under his skin, and taunts Jeno about his plans, calls him a hypocrite.

"We're the ones killing each other, not the Arena. Can you save us from ourselves, Jeno?" The Jeno of the past would have gently but firmly assured Renjun he was wrong. He would have had some spiel rolling off the tip of his tongue, about the system and how they're unwitting victims to its machinations. This Jeno goes stony-faced. When Renjun's barbs go too far, he spits out a denial.

On those days, Renjun sometimes reminds Jaemin that he can never have what he wants the most. “Aren’t they a perfect couple?” he says, even though he knows they aren’t a couple. It hurts, but he doubts Renjun can tell how much. Jaemin's an opportunist at heart. He'll eventually smile and draw Renjun close. He'll say, "You know what I want right now?"

And Renjun will know.

Because God, Jaemin likes the bad days. It's those days when Renjun can't control himself, when his fingers claw into Jaemin's back, when he's demanding and makes desperate mewing sounds, and doesn't—can't—hide his want. It's also those days when he'll curl against Jaemin's chest like a cat after, and let Jaemin hold him close for a long time.

It's been one of those days, and in the hazy afterglow, Jaemin lies with his naked chest pressed against Renjun's back.

Renjun's voice is muffled by the blanket when he speaks, so he sounds faraway though their bodies are as close as they can be.

"Promise you'll get rid of me if this place really fucks me up. If I become a monster."

Jaemin ignores him. He slides an arm around Renjun's stomach, and smiles into his neck when Renjun squirms even though he isn't ticklish.

"Are you even listening to me?" Renjun says.

Jaemin blows against his ear, and Renjun squirms again. He cranes his head back and does his best to glare at Jaemin from the side of his eye since he can't turn all the way around.

"Not really," Jaemin says.

Renjun huffs.

That's a lie. Jaemin is listening, and that's why he doesn't say anything. He can't make that promise. Jaemin loves the monsters, after all.

Jeno's idea of getting it together is smiling through his teeth and hiding his struggles from Donghyuck. And from the rest of them when he can, but he tries the hardest with Donghyuck, and he doesn't have the fortitude to keep it up all the time. He tries his best.

It's kind of pointless because Jeno's not good at hiding anything. Especially not from Donghyuck, who can read him with his eyes closed.

Donghyuck hates it.

Jaemin thinks it's still an improvement. One, because Jeno's trying something. Two, because Donghyuck's better at being angry than being sad.

It isn't long before Donghyuck rounds on Jeno, eyes flashing. "Stop pretending you're okay."

Jeno gulps, blinks too fast, and that's the end of it. The facade falls apart.

"How dare you pretend. How dare you," Donghyuck grits his teeth, and the rest comes out as a hiss, "lie to me."

"I don't want to worry you with my problems," Jeno says. "I don't want to hurt you." His voice gets small and falters at the end, like it's presumptuous of him to assume he could hurt Donghyuck.

"This, what you're doing right now, hurts me more," Donghyuck says.

He doesn't deny that Jeno has hurt him somehow, and at that Jeno flinches. It seems like he flinches a lot these days.

"I want you to rely on me," Donghyuck says, more softly. "What else am I here for?"

"We have to leave," Donghyuck says to Jaemin one day. It's out of the blue, and Jaemin laughs at the thought until Donghyuck slaps his leg.

"You're serious?" Jaemin says.

Donghyuck looks across the room at Jeno, asleep in his bed. Jeno sleeps more than he used to. His face is peaceful in sleep, but thinner than Jaemin's ever seen it. Jaemin doesn't understand how Jeno's getting stronger and more skeletal at the same time.

"I have to be," Donghyuck says.

"We have to get out of here. We have to go," Donghyuck says to all of them, not long after. Donghyuck is too impatient to wait for the right timing, though Jaemin supposes there isn't a right timing to suggest madness.

Jeno tilts his head. "You want to go outside? It's past open hours for the yard, but I guess we could sneak in if you really want to." The yard is an enclosed patch of dirt with some trees and grass within the Arena, with a ceiling that can open to the sky. It’s where people go when they want to pretend they’re outdoors. He purses his lips together. "I don't think it's a good idea though. The dogs could catch us." How Jeno manages to hate the system and be a stickler for the rules at the same time, Jaemin doesn't know.

"No, Jeno, like go go."

Donghyuck waits for them to get it. Jeno is the last one to catch on. His mouth drops open when he realizes. "You want to leave the Arena?" Jeno says.

"Ding, ding, ding," Donghyuck says. "And 1000 points go to our lucky winner."

Renjun squints at Donghyuck.

"I thought you liked it here," he says, more harshly than he needs to. It's a bad day for him, then.

"I did," Donghyuck replies easily.

"What changed?" Renjun asks, like he doesn't already know. He's just trying to force words out of Donghyuck's mouth, make him admit something he doesn't want to.

Donghyuck's eyes flash. He knows Renjun's game. This time he's willing to play, but it doesn't mean he likes it. "That was before they started messing with Jeno."

"Leaving the Arena is impossible," Jeno says. He turns toward Renjun and Jaemin. His eyebrows rise comically when neither of them back him up right away.

"Hard, not impossible," Renjun says, surprising them all, especially Donghyuck, who thought that Renjun would be the last to come around. When they stare at him, he shrugs. "You think I haven't thought about it?"

"Yeah, I didn't think you would."

"Isn't escaping what everyone thinks about at first?"

"I was more busy thinking about surviving, like a normal person," Donghyuck says.

Renjun rolls his eyes, though it's true. No one has escaped the Arena. It's a waste of energy to think about.

"For the first week, all I thought about was getting out."

"No one gets out of the Arena," Jeno says flatly.

"The dogs get out, and it’s not like the director and the higher ups live here," Renjun says.

Donghyuck is derailed by Renjun's acceptance of the thought of leaving. Though Donghyuck is the one that brought up leaving the Arena, Jaemin knows he has no idea how. He hasn't even thought about it. He's more the type to go with the moment rather than plan ahead, and all he's planned for now is an argument to convince the rest of them.

"We're not the dogs and we’re not the higher ups," Jeno says.

Renjun squints at Jeno like he's an idiot. "Obviously. That doesn't matter. It means there's a way out. Possibly many ways out. Did any of you even try to get out?"

"Doesn't look like you did either," Donghyuck says.

"I trailed a dog once," Renjun says. Jaemin blinks.

"When did you do that?" Jaemin asks.

"The first week. Like I said, I was thinking about getting out." Jaemin remembers the tall boy and seeing them in the hallway. It would have been good cover, with how the dogs acted around boy on boy activity, trying to act like they couldn't see it even though some of them couldn’t look away. Jaemin remembers the kiss marks on Renjun's neck and feels a clot of thickness in his chest. It surprises him, but not for long. Jaemin has never liked to share, not when something's his. He doesn't know when Renjun started feeling like his, but the when isn't important. Renjun shares parts of himself with Jaemin that no one else gets to see, too proud to show vulnerability otherwise unless it cracks through to the surface, and that damned well makes him feel like Jaemin's.

"So what's your grand master plan then?" Donghyuck asks, sarcasm dripping from each word.

"The security here isn't that good, honestly," Renjun says. “They don't use eye scanners or fingerprint readers, even though those aren't that expensive now. The dog I trailed used a badge to get out the door. There were more doors behind it, but they had badge readers too. And I remember them using badges when they brought me in, to get through just three layers of walls."

"Just three? Like three isn't a lot," Jeno says.

Renjun ignores him. "When I looked around, all the doors in the interior here are either normal lock and key, or have a badge reader like that. We'd just need to get a badge off a dog."

"Just get a badge off a dog," Jeno repeats. "And get past all the dogs patrolling the halls and guarding the exits and entrances."

"Sounds about right," Renjun says.

"So why didn't you just run then?" Donghyuck says, folding his arms. "If like you say, the security is so bad."

Renjun licks his lips. "I was...looking for someone."

Donghyuck snorts. He clearly thinks Renjun chickened out. No one comes to the Arena looking for someone.

"Who?"

Renjun face contorts. "None of your business," he snaps, before he can stop himself, and Jaemin sees the gears turn in Donghyuck and Jeno's heads, sees the pieces fall in place, with those same words Renjun's uttered against Donghyuck's taunts many times before. Renjun's face smooths over, but it's too late.

"Chenle," Jeno whispers.

Renjun can't even deny it. He turns away. "Yes. There wasn't a point in leaving after that." Jeno's eyes warm with sympathy, and Jaemin knows Renjun can't take that. Renjun quickly changes the topic. "And the security is too bad. It's weird. The cams are all old and there's too many blind spots. It's like they want us to run."

"No, it's because we wouldn't run," Jaemin says. He understands that much. "Our faces are everywhere." Once their faces are on the screen, it's better than any lock and key. They can't escape the recordings more than they can't escape the solid walls of the building, the physical evidence of their crimes playing on devices across the nation. "And it's not like we have anywhere to go."

"That's right," Jeno says. "And I can't leave now. I'm so close. The director—"

"You're not close to anything, except becoming an assistant to an assistant. It took years for Sicheng to become the director's assistant, and he hasn’t changed anything around here. It will take years for you to get anywhere, if that ever happens. The only thing you’re close to,” Donghyuck says, “is losing yourself.”

Jeno draws back. "You never believed in me?"

Donghyuck runs a hand through his hair, and shakes it out in frustration. "I do believe in you, honest. But I thought we'd have years to do it."

"Why is that different now?" Jeno says. "It's not like they're going to kill me." The director's word is worth that much. For Jeno, it's a good day. He speaks with his old strength, and his eyes are clear. Only his sunken cheeks give any indication that something's off.

On good days, Jeno speaks as if he doesn't see his own wild-eyed look in the mirror every morning. Maybe he pretends not to. Pretends that the shaking that starts in his hands a few days before his appointments comes from fear, pretends that the scent of smoke doesn't stick to his clothes. Pretends that Jaemin hasn't caught him once pressed against the glass door closing off the labs, begging the scientists, "Just give me a little more today. A little more", while they watch impassive from inside the glass. The masks covering the lower halves of their faces hide their expressions, but Jaemin thinks they might be laughing.

And when Jaemin asks Jeno if he's okay, he's only okay the first half of the week.

"Why is it different now?" Jeno repeats.

Donghyuck hesitates, caught by Jeno's gaze.

Renjun breaks their silence. "They won't need to kill you if there's none of you left," he says. Jeno twitches, but Renjun shows no sign of remorse.

Donghyuck sucks in a breath and lets it out through his nose. He closes his eyes because it's too hard to say what he has to when Jeno looks at him like that. "I don't want to say this. God—I know how hard you're trying. But Renjun's right. We're losing you."

Donghyuck opens his eyes again, and raises them to meet Jeno's with sudden ferocity. "And I will not lose you."

"You don't even want to be together," Jeno blurts out. His eyes round at his own words, and he steps back, raising his arms in front of his face, like he's trying to hide. A futile gesture, since they can all see him.

Donghyuck closes the space between them in two steps, and pries Jeno's arms away from his face.

"You've never asked me. How do you know what I want?"

Jeno tries to wiggle in his grasp, but Donghyuck's hands keep him in place. "No, you can't—you can't give me hope like that. You've always wanted the freedom," Jeno says desperately.

"We all change," Donghyuck says.

Jeno goes quiet. He can't hide the terrible hope that blooms across his face. And Jaemin realizes it's true. When has Donghyuck changed? Is it since the experiments? Or was it even before that? Maybe Jaemin has been blind to it because he doesn't want to see.

"Freedom is worth nothing without you," Donghyuck says.

Jaemin doesn't want to hear either.

"So let's be free, truly free, together."

"Together," Jeno echoes.

Jaemin feels his fractured world spin, and fall away beneath his feet. There wasn't much left of it to begin with.

Will there be anyone to catch him?

Leaving is easier said than done. The trickiest part isn't how to break out, it's when.

It has to be a day where it won't be discovered that they're gone right away, so that it'll give them enough time to make some headway away from the Arena before the dogs are sent after them. If the dogs get sent. Jaemin isn't actually sure who they'd send, or if they have other personnel better trained than the dogs to track them down. No one has ever run before.

It can't be Friday because that's when they expect Jeno in the labs, and though none of them say it, it can't be the few days before Friday either. In those days leading up the appointments, tremors run through Jeno's hands, and his feet take him near the labs. A word will set him off.

It can't be a day when any of them have a match. That's easier for Renjun and Jaemin. Jaemin only puts his name in the lottery when he's low on cash, and Renjun never does, so they sometimes go weeks between matches. Donghyuck and Jeno put their names in every week, and it would be suspicious if they suddenly stopped, so they continue getting set up with a match almost every week.

It takes a long time for the stars to align, but when they do everything moves ahead in a frenzy. It's as if they're all afraid that if they stop, they'll turn back before they even try. The possibility of that is not even unlikely.

They don't mention that, because mentioning it could be enough to crumble their resolve. Jeno still comes back some nights smelling of smoke, Donghyuck replays his old matches and stares at them with something akin to longing, and Jaemin has been in the Arena for too long to imagine anything else.

They're all nervous, on edge, and they snap at each other more often than they used to. Only Renjun seems calm, more settled now that a decision's been made. He keeps practicing his lock-picking, saying he needs to get faster, but Jaemin thinks it's his way of getting rid of the nerves. He always carries his tools on his person so that if there's a change in plans and they have to go, they can.

Renjun keeps them together because he still remembers life outside the Arena. He weaves magic with his words, saying how they'll get a small place in the city where no one knows them. They'll get normal jobs, or as normal as they need to be. Renjun will become a boring office worker who wears suits like the director's; Jaemin will become a construction worker, or a mercenary for hire, or a chef, whatever Renjun's imagination feels like that day; Jeno will rise as a government official and shut down the Arena, with Donghyuck as his agent in one of those secretive government spy agencies. They'll never eat fake chicken again. They'll have meat-filled breads, still steaming from the oven, stir-fried noodles too spicy for safe consumption, and junk food whenever they want.

They’ll have a chance at happiness, and even if they don’t quite make it there, they’ll be together. And they’ll be free.

The thought of that is enough to keep them going.

No one says how much each word falling from Renjun’s pretty mouth sounds like lie.

The day before they're supposed to leave, they sit in the stands for the last time. Donghyuck's eyes are sharp, and too bright. They watch Jeno work with his usual efficiency. It's a clean kill, but Jaemin sees him struggle to step back from the body after it's down. A breath passes before he does, raising his arm in a salute.

It's a gesture he almost never makes. The crowd cheers, not knowing it's not for them.

It's a gesture of honor to who Jeno used to be, and who he strives to be again. Who he will be again, from now on.

"You'll miss this," Jaemin says to Donghyuck.

Donghyuck pauses, and turns his head to the side. "Na Jaemin, you never make things easy for me, do you?" He's holding the ball Jeno gave him once long ago. He turns it in his hand. "But if you must know, I will."

It's like admitting it releases something twisted up tight inside him. With a bittersweet smile, Donghyuck lets it go.

They steal away in the dark of the night. They don't take much with them. Just what money they have, the clothes on their backs, and a couple personal items that will fit in their pockets. Jaemin takes a pack of gum.

Getting the dogs is easy. Almost too easy.

It's lucky that the dogs patrol in groups of four to six. They catch a group of four in the west hallway, where there's no cams and plenty of storage units. The dogs march two ahead and two behind.

They take the dogs from behind. Jeno knocks one out with a fist to the head, while Donghyuck jabs his fingers into another one's throat. Renjun catches the one Jeno knocked out as he falls, and slides him to the ground. His fingers dance across the dog's torso. He unhooks the dog's gun and tosses it to Jaemin. Jaemin checks that the silencer’s on. Then Renjun finds what he's looking for, a slender white object shaped like a pen. He clicks the tip, and a sharp needle juts out one end. He stabs the tranquilizer into the leg of one of the dogs in the front, who falls where he stands, body collapsing down like a marionette whose strings have been cut.

The last dog turns, probably reacting to the sound of Jeno's fist against the first dog's head.

He's younger than Jaemin expected, maybe younger than them. He jolts when he sees them and his falling comrades. His inexperience shows—his hands tremble as he fumbles to pull out his communicator to call for backup.

Jaemin shoots him through the forehead.

They drag the dogs into one of the storage units, and switch their clothes out for the dogs’ uniforms. The fit isn't perfect, but if they move fast, it should be enough of a disguise.

Jeno thinks they should throw the dogs into the storage freezers where it'll take longer to find them, but Donghyuck lays them out on the tables, folding their arms over their chests.

"A parting gift," he says. "And if we're still here by the time they find these, we're goners anyway."

The dogs lie still on the white tables, a line of four bodies stripped of all they have but their underwear. They would look like they're sleeping if it weren't for a bruise on one's neck and Jaemin's bullet hole through another's head. The one Jaemin shot faces the ceiling with his eyes open, wide and afraid.

Before they leave, Jaemin uses his fingers to close the dog's eyes. No one else needs to see that he died in fear.

When the corridor is clear, they walk up to the first door. Renjun slides the badge across the reader. Jaemin holds his breath. If Renjun was wrong about the dogs' badges being all-access, it could end there, but with a hiss the door opens. They walk past.

The door shuts behind them with an ominously permanent click.

Jaemin checks the ceiling and the ground for cams and traps. He sees some cams, but none of them move to swivel in their direction. Jaemin resists the urge to pull the dog's cap down further over his face.

Past the first door is a long pathway to the second door, nothing else in between. Jaemin feels overly exposed with no alcoves or corners to duck behind.

They don't see anyone, and Renjun passes the badge over the reader of the second door.

It opens, they enter, and it closes again. Here the path branches off in several directions. The walls around them shine with a strange sheen, like the screen of a monitor. There's no windows.

"Which way?" Donghyuck hisses.

Renjun shakes his head. "This part I don't know. We'll just have to keep going until we find an exit."

They have no choice, so they continue forward, choosing the leftmost path on a whim. Renjun and Jeno walk in front, Jaemin and Donghyuck behind. Jaemin keeps expecting to hear alarms go off. How much time has passed? He wishes now that they had left the dogs in the storage freezer. The path in front of them turns several times, and he can't tell if they getting closer to the outside or deeper in.

They pass another group of dogs. Renjun tenses, but dogs only incline their heads, so they do the same. Jaemin is more relieved than alarmed to see them. With a gun in his hand, he's confident he can deal with some dogs. It's better to see some sign of life and know that they're on a path others take. He doesn't want to die wandering lost in these windowless halls.

An alarm never goes off.

The gunshot comes out of nowhere, and it's only because the dog was too stupid to put on his silencer that Jaemin hears it. He drops to the ground. The dog wasn't a great shot either, or he would already be dead.

The bullet ricochets off the wall and nicks his arm. He hisses at the pain.

He pulls his gun out of its holster and fires a returning shot. The dog falls to his knees, but more stream in around him.

The four of them are up and running before Jaemin has time to take in the group of dogs coming in from around the corner, too many to be a normal patrol.

They take the turns at random. They don't know where they are, or where they're going, but it doesn't matter anymore.

Jaemin's arm stings. It doesn't feel too bad, but he doesn't have time to inspect the damage.

Around them the walls begin to flicker. Jaemin has visions of the whole passageway exploding and going up in a cloud of flames, taking them and all the dogs with them.

The path splits multiple times, but it doesn't slow the dogs as much as Jaemin expects. The dogs' footsteps don't split in different directions when they reach forks in the path. They stop briefly at each turn before all of them continue the same way. It's like the dogs can scent them.

It crystallizes with terrible certainty in Jaemin's mind that the dogs must know where they are, somehow. There's no way they can take all the exact same turns otherwise. He can't say how they could know, but they must know.

They're running for nothing. But they keep running.

The walls around them flare to life. Many copies of the director's face appear, one after another on each section of the wall around them.

All the mouths move at the same time, showing the bleached white teeth of the director. The words come a quarter of a second late, not synced up exactly with the movement of his mouth.

"Jeno, I'm disappointed in you. I did not think you would try to run after all I have offered you," the director says. "While it is certainly quite brave, as well as reckless, both of which are qualities I admire, it is unacceptable."

They keep running, but the director's face follows them, lighting up on each section of the wall they pass.

"Do you wonder how I found you, Jeno? Our special formula isn't the only substance the scientists have injected in you. I have you on a tracker, and I can find you, no matter where you go."

Jeno staggers and almost stops in his tracks, but Donghyuck pushes him forward.

"He's lying," Donghyuck says. "One of our faces probably got caught on the cams."

"What if he's not?" Jeno says. His head whips around, trying to see how far the dogs are behind them, but all he sees are the copies of the director’s face. His hair flies around his face as they run, and his eyes go wild. "You have to leave me behind."

"Shut up and run, you self-sacrificing idiot," Renjun says. Jaemin grabs his arm and pulls him along.

"I'd like to give you a choice, Jeno," the director continues. "Turn back now and turn in your friends, and I'll still offer you a position by my side. You'll have to be monitored more closely of course, but you will still get all the privileges that come with the position." The director pauses. "Keep going and I'll have to punish you instead. You are an investment, you know. I don't want to hurt you."

They turn another corner, and Jaemin sees a door at the side a ways down. It's not a door with a badge reader like the others. It might lead to another hallway or even back into the deeper layers of the Arena, but they run toward it anyway. Renjun's already pulling out hairpins and paperclips he's folded into different shapes.

"That's a shame," the director says. He presses something he holds in his hand.

Jeno screams, an inhuman cry that wrenches itself out of his throat. He crumples to his knees, his hands clutching at his head.

"I told you the formula isn't the only substance we've injected you with," the director says.

Donghyuck drags Jeno up, slinging Jeno's arm around his shoulder and pulls him after Jaemin and Renjun. Donghyuck falls behind because Jeno's worse than dead weight. He scrabbles at Donghyuck, scratching hard enough to draw blood. After some time, his screaming dies into whimpering.

Jaemin hears the distant pounding of the dogs' footsteps.

By the time they get to the door, the pounding is clear as thunder behind them. Jeno has stopped making noise, but his face is drawn tight, pale as a sheet. He can't support himself, so Donghyuck continues to hold him up.

Renjun works his paperclip into the keyhole of the door.

"Hurry it up," Donghyuck says.

"I'm going as fast as I can," Renjun says, but his hands are shaking.

The dogs round the corner, and there's no time left. Jaemin takes down the first two, but it's a whole horde of them. He can't beat that advantage in numbers, and even if he could, he's sure he doesn't have enough bullets.

A click sounds behind him, and the door swings open. Icy night air rushes in. The cold has never felt so good before.

They don't have time to think. They run outside onto a balcony of all white stone. It's at least 3 meters above the ground. Jaemin takes in their surroundings in a quick sweep. He has no time to appreciate it, but somewhere in his mind he registers that this is beauty. He sees the half-full moon, trees running into a forest, a river in the near distance, and the city in the far distance burning light into the dark.

Renjun pulls the door shut behind them, and they hear the lock click back into place. Jaemin hopes it slows the dogs at least half a second. Closing the door can't stop the director's face from following them. It appears on the outer wall of the building.

Jeno extricates himself from Donghyuck's side, breathing heavily and shaking, but no longer looking like his eyes are about to roll back in his head from pain. Donghyuck reaches out a hand to steady him, but Jeno refuses it. "I think I'm okay," he says.

"Oh you are strong indeed," the director says, sounding both pleased and regretful. "Really, you exceed my expectations."

Renjun doesn’t wait to hear any more of what the director says. As soon as he sees Jeno is on his own two feet, he runs forward, grips the edge of the balcony railing, and swings himself over. Jaemin sees him disappear beyond the edge.

Donghyuck turns toward Jeno, unsure, but Jeno takes a deep breath and smiles. He's trying for reassuring, but he doesn't quite get there. He says, "I got this. It's not like you can carry me while you jump."

Donghyuck nods, because he respects Jeno's wishes, and because what Jeno said is true. With a last glance at Jeno, Jaemin jumps over the railing after Renjun, Donghyuck not far behind him. Air rushes around him. He sees Renjun land light on his feet. Jaemin lands less gracefully and crashes into a bush, the taste of dirt and leaves covering his tongue. He curses, and spits a leaf out. Donghyuck lands beside him.

They start to make for the cover of the trees, until they realize they didn’t hear a fourth landing. Jeno isn't behind them. Donghyuck stops, and turns.

Jeno still stands at the edge of the balcony, his back a silhouette against the night.

"What are you doing Jeno? Hurry up," Donghyuck yells.

Jeno turns his head to the side, so that the light from the building outlines the profile of his face, lighting the angles of his cheekbones. His eyes are hidden in shadows cast by the light.

"Go," he says.

Donghyuck stares back up at him, uncomprehending. Not wanting to comprehend. His jaw works. "Jeno, hurry up," he repeats.

Jaemin thinks he sees something glisten on the side of Jeno's face. "Go. You know they have trackers on me," Jeno says.

"Get your ass down here, Jeno Lee," Donghyuck screams. "Right now."

The door bursts open, and the dogs spill out.

"I've always wanted to die for you, Donghyuck," Jeno says.

Donghyuck's face contorts. "Then get down here so I can kill you myself. Get down here or I'll hate you forever,” he says.

"I love you," Jeno says.

"I hate you," Donghyuck cries, a cry in the dark. His hand reaches for Jeno, clawing and searching, but Jeno's beyond his grasp. Perhaps he has been for a long time.

Shots fire, from too many dogs for Jaemin to count.

"No," the director howls. "You fools. Not him! I wanted him alive. It's the others that are expendable."

The shots rip through Jeno's body.

He pitches to the side, and falls.

He falls to the floor of the balcony, where they can't see him from below.

An angel, fallen to earth. In the end, he was human.

Jaemin drags Donghyuck up from his knees before the dogs can run over to the edge of the balcony. He's limp, which makes it easier for Jaemin to pull him along, and his eyes don't seem to see anything ahead of them.

Renjun's still stunned, his eyes fixed above them. As if Jeno would rise again he if stared long enough. A push from Jaemin snaps him back into place.

He takes a look at Jaemin's face, swallows, and sets off running again.

Jaemin wonders what he looks like. He wonders if they think he's the monster now, because he's the only one who moves right after Jeno falls. He moves without thinking. He doesn't think. He stopped thinking the moment the first bullet hit Jeno's body. Moments before he fell. The first bullet went right through his head, and Jaemin knows too much to pretend it wasn't fatal.

The chances of survival are so low it's laughable. So he doesn't pretend.

He only knows Jeno would want them to stay alive. He only knows how to stay alive.

Even so, as he runs, fragments of Jeno whirl through his vision like the pieces of a kaleidoscope. The shadows under Jeno's eyes, Jeno sneaking in a cigarette where he thinks they don't see, Jeno frowning every time Jaemin told him the Arena wouldn't change, Jeno hoisting his big sword up.

"I hate you," Donghyuck says, speaking to no one. Jaemin pulls him along through the bushes and among the trees. Branches lash at their skin. "You said we'd be free together. You promised."

There's Jeno with his hand in Donghyuck's hair. Jeno sitting by Jaemin's side in the stadium, Jeno crying for the first time, Jeno dragged in with manacles because he busted up a dog. Jeno turning his head and smiling at something dumb Jaemin said, a spot of sunshine on his cheek.

Jeno falling.

Donghyuck starts running at some point and they move along faster, but the motion is mechanical.

They fly until they stumble, then they stumble until they fly, running through the trees. Jaemin sees the searchlight of a copter above. He hears the shouts of the dogs and the barking of real dogs, sometimes closer, sometimes farther away.

They can't keep running forever, but they can try.

The bank of the river starts to come into view before them, visible between the trees. Somehow they've gone toward it without meaning to. Before they break out into the open, Jaemin sees a pair of dogs at the bank, next to a tethered boat. He tugs Renjun and Donghyuck back. The two dogs have rifles. They were probably going down by boat to join the other dogs, and decided to take a pit stop. It’s shitty luck that they stopped here of all the places on the riverbank.

Shitty luck for the dogs anyway, now that Jaemin’s spotted them. Jaemin lifts his gun and takes aim. He pulls the trigger twice, a quick succession of shots, then fires a third just in case. The dogs drop.

They run up to the riverbank and stop at its edge. Dark water churns below their feet. Jaemin doesn't know how much time has passed since they started running.

Donghyuck looks like he wants to rip the dogs' bodies apart. He kicks one of them viciously. Jaemin could tell him not to defile the dead, but he doesn't care. He's relieved to see some sign of life in Donghyuck.

"The river runs in the direction of the city," Renjun says. He points at the boat.

Jaemin nods. Renjun steps into the boat. It rocks beneath his feet, and he sits down at the prow. Jaemin climbs in after.

"Donghyuck, come on," Jaemin calls. Donghyuck still stands over the dogs, looking down at them.

He lifts his head slowly at Jaemin's call, reluctantly tears himself away from the dogs, and walks over to them. He walks like someone who hasn’t quite woken up from a dream. Jaemin can't place the emotion he sees on Donghyuck's face.

"Jeno said we'd be free together," Donghyuck says. He walks over to the edge of the bank, but doesn't get into the boat. He stares right through Jaemin. "But I'll never be free again. Not unless I fulfill Jeno's dream. Not unless I destroy this place."

"Donghyuck, come on. We have no time," Jaemin says.

Donghyuck’s eyes rivet, focusing on Renjun, then on Jaemin. For the first time since Jeno fell, Donghyuck sees Jaemin, sees all of him. His lips twist in a bittersweet smile. "I've never been much good at good byes," he says. Before Jaemin can understand enough to stop him, Donghyuck pulls loose the knot holding the boat in place and gives it a push.

The current catches them and rips the boat away from the shore.

"Donghyuck," Jaemin screams, but his voice is lost in the sound of churning water. He thinks he sees Donghyuck say something, but he can't hear it no matter how hard he tries.

Donghyuck gives them a salute as the water draws them farther and farther away. Jaemin shouts his name until his voice is hoarse. The last of him Jaemin sees is a small black figure standing at the shore. The figure turns and heads back in the direction of the Arena, disappearing between the trees.

The current takes them swiftly down the river. They keep their heads low, and somehow the little boat isn’t caught by any of the searchlights. They almost tip over a couple of times, and after a few hours they're uncomfortably damp from the spray of water that flies up each time they hit a rough patch. Other than that, they move fast and silent through the water. They stop hearing the dogs, and before long, they’re past the searching grounds of the copters.

When they get closer to the city, they push the boat over to the riverbank. The river curves away from the city there, so they have to walk the rest of the way.

"What do we do now?" Jaemin asks, like Renjun would have the answers. Like Renjun would know something he doesn't. There's no one else to ask. Jaemin only knows how to stay alive, and he's not sure he even knows how to do that anymore. Maybe he'll be stuck there at that riverbank forever, never able to say good bye, always saying good bye. Always wondering what Donghyuck said. Always watching Jeno fall.

Another broken record that he can’t stop from playing, and it might be the last one he ever plays.

Renjun doesn't answer.

"We have nothing left," Jaemin says.

Renjun turns to face him. The faint glow from the city lights play strangely against his face. He feels faraway, though they stand next to each other.

"We have each other," Renjun says.

They stand side by side for a long time, watching the lights of the city before them.

Then Renjun holds out his hand. Jaemin takes it.

Together, they walk on.