13

Taehyung exhaled a held breath as he wiped his soiled hands on his rag. He had been working on Jeongguk’s circuitry for several days, trying to get some of his mobility back. They made some progress, but less than either of them wanted. Eventually Taehyung managed to replace all of his fried connectors and most of the faulty wiring. Unfortunately, he always seemed to find something wrong just when he thought he was done.

“Try moving your legs,” Taehyung instructed as he sat Jeongguk upright, “or—maybe wiggle your toes? I’ll take whatever I can get at this point.”

Offering a nervous smile, Jeongguk did his best to force his limbs to move. It was difficult, several of his parts were flat out broken or rusted over entirely. Still—he had to try. Every time he reached some sort of milestone, no matter how small, it always made Taehyung happy. Jeongguk—he liked it when Taehyung was happy, he liked watching his eyes light up in wonder, he liked listening to him laugh, he liked—a lot of things. Things he didn’t even know existed.

While his mind wandered, his feet began to twitch. The small motion made Taehyung gasp in delight, so Jeongguk kept pushing. Despite the resistance he forced his legs to move, he didn’t want his body to limit him anymore. He wanted to get better. He would get better. For Taehyung’s sake.

Then, his legs moved. Being able to swing his legs back and forth, even marginally, was a large feat for them.

“Oh my God…” He smiled. “Are you—you’re really—oh my God, you’re moving! You’re actually moving! That’s amazing!”

All thanks to you.

“Okay, let’s test out your arms next. I want you to try and hold my hands.”

Nodding, Jeongguk tried to lift his hands to meet Taehyung’s. They were right in front of him, hovering six inches over his legs, but even that seemed like miles away. He clenched his jaw without meaning to, forcing the command into his haggard joints. He felt his energy draining as he tried to raise them, felt his body failing him once more. Every step forward felt like he took an extra eight steps back. Bitterness stung his eye, he couldn’t take it much longer.

“Don’t push yourself,” Taehyung started with a sympathetic glance, “you’ve already accomplished so much today. If you can’t do it that’s perfectly fine. We can try again tomorrow.”

Jeongguk’s hands curled into fists in anger, his metal knuckles ripped through his already worn synthetic skin in defiance. He was tired of being a slave to his own restrictions. He was tired of his body telling him no. He was tired of the whole world having a say in how he was going to live his life, tired of being unable to control his own existence. He was sick of all of it.

            no more

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