Throughout all of the life-flashing-before-your-eyes-syndrome striking like lightening through your brain, you never think to roll until the very last moment.

In fact, the alien buffalo is 5.27 seconds away from crushing you when you finally throw yourself to the side, rolling with your whole body and bringing with you a wake of metal-colored leaves.  The breath huffs out of you as your shoulder crunches into the ground, pain begging you to stop there with your face in the dirt, but you force yourself to do a full rotation and land on your back. 

Just as you clear it, the space you were just occupying is churned into an angry sea of soil as the buffalo stomps it up, tossing its head so its third horn almost impales a passing alien. It bellows angrily, scaly ears flickering and eyes rolling as it bucks and stamps nervously. The dangerous horns whipping back and forth make the crowd avoid confrontation with a wide berth.

Taking advantage of the space, you can finally push yourself to your feet with your bound hands.

Your entire body is smarting with bruises, but you can't think about that now. The buffalo is still angry, and you're still in range.

Even now, while you wobble trying to find balance, its eyes focus in again on you - a moving target for its dumb animal rage.

The buffalo rears again, tossing its head as it prepares to charge you.

Its hoof scrapes the dirt, its horns pierce the air, and it...just...

Stops moving.

Its horns lower.

Its eyes halt their fearful flickering.

Pitifully, it lows.

"Are you alright?" a strained voice asks. "I can't hold him still for very long. Go!"

A man appears around the massive side of the buffalo, his hand braced on its armored hide. Although his eyes are closed in apparent concentration, it's clear that his words are directed at you.

But you can't go.

You stay, and you freaking stare at him.

This man is more perfect than anything you've seen before - neither the golden-skinned angel or the flaming-haired fire breather can touch the sheer, elegant perfection of his face. 

His skin is pearly in color, a kind of cream-grey-goldy shade illuminated from beneath with pink undertones, as if he's made of mother of pearl. Soft pink hair falls like cherry blossoms around his face, framing the gentle curve of his pink bow-shaped lips and the sweet, feathery crescents of his closed eyes.

His fingers rest lightly on the buffalo's skin in a soothing manner, the simple touch calming the animal so it no longer pays attention to the roaring of Servus around it. Instead, it begins to gently munch on a mound of leaves, eyes lazy with contentment.

With the distance that the crowd is keeping from the animal, it feels like you exist in a pocket of timelessness, standing there stilly with the buffalo and the beautiful man. 

The air around you is quiet - peaceful - like there's a second glass dome within the spaceport, one that arches over your heads and separates you from the chaotic crowd passing in a static stream.

"Why aren't you going?" The man opens his eyes; they're glowing a warm magenta. "Get out of here. Go."

This time you do.

You tear your eyes from his face with all the willpower you can muster and step out of the bubble of peace, flinching as the shouting crowd tries to sweep you away.

You don't let them - with one last glance at the pink-haired man whispering wordlessly to the animal that almost killed you, you force yourself to trudge on. 

You break into a light jog as you cut through the crowd, still headed against the flow.

Your sights are set across the dome of Servus, where you and Yoongi were headed in the first place. Hopefully you can meet him again there . 

Once he remembers that you exist, that is.

"Don't go there!" A hand grabs your shoulder, and a woman's dandelion-yellow face fills your vision. Her voice in your translator is thick with cold grey fear. She snatches at your shirt, your hair, trying to drag you with her into the rushing stream of people headed the opposite way. "Death is here. That way is to death!"

You manage to rip free of her hold and stumble forward anyway. 

If death is this way, you don't care. This way is your only chance of escaping; even if you and Yoongi can never make it back to your solar system, even if you die cold and drifting through endless space, at least you won't die chained up in a cage.

You're almost to the other side of the dome.

You can see makeshift metal entryways like the one Thing dragged you down before, which must be the docks for spacecrafts.

Only one obstacle stands between you and the docks - a small semi- circle of beings with various weapons, facing off against two lone figures.

A tiny battle - eight or nine against two.

The aliens circled up are all different kinds, and eclectic mix of colors and shapes ranging from a orange-and-black striped woman with a gun to a man with tribal tattoos streaking in fluorescent colors across his skin, claws out and tail waving dangerously behind.

The two figures opposite are strangely different as well.

One is slight and slender, royal blue scales cutting down the angle of his face from temple to cheekbone on either side. 

For the first time, you notice what someone in the port is wearing;  this creature seems to be dressed in something similar to a kimono, with wide sleeves in a black-and-grey floral pattern. His hair is a greenish-blue, waving like water over his forehead.

The being behind him is taller and a little broader, but those are the only traits you can discern. This creature is clothed from head to toe, showing no skin whatsoever. You can't even tell whether it's male or female.  Its hands are wrapped in black cloth, and its hair is covered by the kind of turban-like article that people wear in the desert. The cloth pulls up to cover almost its entire face, stopping just below the eyes.

These two seem to be the origin of the panic.

Everyone nearby scrambles like roaches to escape any sort of nearness to the two figures, glancing over their shoulders like they're waiting to be stabbed from behind.

Judging by the feeling in the air,  you've walked into the fight right as it's starting. The atmosphere is still and tense, that split-second edge of precarious silence while the enemies watch each other.

Just like when the buffalo was thrashing to and fro, the crowd keeps a good distance from the fight, casting it glances of horrified terror as they pass by.

For them, this is the cause of the chaos.

For you, it's an opportunity.

You start to edge around the fight, staying close enough that you don't have to deal with the masses of people fighting to get by, but far away enough to keep safe from the inevitable violence that's coming.

As you start to sneak by, making yourself as small and unnoticeable as possible, you keep one eye on the fight and another on your distance from the rest of the crowd.

By now, the two opposing lines of people have collided, swords flashing and guns firing.

You thought that the fight would end rather quickly. Two against nine isn't exactly the best odds, after all, but those two figures seem to be holding their own.

Actually, it's more like one against nine.

Out of the two figures, only the one clad in the grey kimono is taking any action. As the other aliens attack, he's somehow holding them off with a translucent kind of shield that seems to be waving and moving, almost like-

"Holy crap, is that water?" You squint, watching as Kimono claps his hands together and directs a pressurized stream of water towards an enemy, knocking the alien a good ten feet back.

Although you're tempted to sit cross-legged and watch Kimono the Water Bender fight off nine people at once like some kind of fantasy action movie, you keep going.

Honestly?

With all you've seen today, someone who can control water isn't crazy anymore.

Wings and flaming skin and talking to animals is just another day in the park for these people.

A leaf crunches a little too loudly under your foot and, even though it's surely drowned out by the screams and gunfire and distance, you still wince.

You're so thankful for that wince.

As your head bends toward your chest, shoulders hunching and mouth grimacing, you feel something tiny and hard zoom by the back of your neck, just barely grazing the skin there.

You yelp and lurch forward, cupping the back of your neck. When you bring your hand back around to your face, the smear of blood on your fingers makes your brain spasm.

Did you...almost get shot?

In answer to your thought, another bullet flies by your face, close enough that it rustles your hair.

Immediately, you drop to your knees, then your stomach. The dirt sinks under your elbows as you begin to army crawl across the ground.

You can hear more bullets whizzing by as you go, and your heart is beating so hard you're surprised that the entire spaceport isn't vibrating with the frantic pounding.

As a bullet passes by heart-stoppingly close to your butt, you drop completely flat, pressing your cheek into the ground so you face the fight. Your knees have started to shake so you stay down for a moment, waiting for your strength to return.

With your head turned, you watch vaguely as the man in the kimono relentlessly defends himself and his companion, keeping up a steady  wall of whirling water that sucks up the bullets like a black hole and repels anyone trying to break through it.

Every now and then he'll push a hand out through the wall, fingers extended, so that a blast of liquid explodes out and smashes into one of the aliens.

As you watch, a bullet slips into the wall of water and is instantly redirected, turning so that it exits at the same speed, low and quick. It's a blur of motion that you can barely track.

But you can track it well enough to know that it's headed directly for you - and this time, as low as it is, it'll hit you no matter what.

You scramble forward, pushing with all the meager strength left in your legs, but the soil is slipping between your fingers, sliding under your knees, and your progress isn't fast enough.

The bullet hits you in the calf, a little below the back of your knee.

At first, it doesn't hurt like you thought it would. 

Maybe it's because of shock, or your brain's attempt to protect you from the pain your nerve receptors are bombarding it with, but there isn't any hurt. You feel the full impact of it, the sharp slice of the bullet cutting through your skin and your muscle , but you don't really feel it.

Then, all at once, you do.

Metal and fire burn through your veins, and blood leaks through the fingers you clasp to the wound. An anguished kind of moan eeks out from between your teeth. 

The most pain you've ever been in up until now stems from that one time that you accidentally sprained your wrist in middle school.

This is nearly incomparable - an ocean next to a beaker of water.

And you can't run anymore. Walking is a maybe, crawling the most solid option. 

On top of that, you don't know how to deal with bullet wounds other than what you've seen from movies; you keep pressure on it, stay still as the blood drips to the ground, but you're scared.

There are more bullets flying by as the fight goes on, not pausing despite your injury.

You're hopeless.

Gingerly, you dig your fingers into the dirt and try to move forward. Your teeth clamp down on your lower lip, creating a new spot of pain to distract from the similar sensation in your leg.

You have to keep going.

Yoongi can help you.

All you have to do is get past this fight and make it to the docks, praying all the while that the turquoise-headed Martian will somehow find you there.

That thought, a mantra in your brain, is the only thing that enables you to focus through the pain and continue your pitiful crawl forward. 

The resulting progress is painfully slow - every other minute, you stop moving to flinch back from a bullet zinging past you.

Eventually, something about your movement catches his attention - the one controlling the water. 

In the midst of the fight the man in the kimono follows the path of a bullet with his gaze, flickering for just a quick second to where you're on the ground, clutching your leg. 

His lovely eyes widen when they touch your form.

From this far away you cant hear his voice but as he throws back his head, eyes closed, and his lips twist around a string of words, you know he's cussing you out in whatever alien language he speaks.

Another being tries to break through the shield of his water barrier, and Kimono snaps out of his trance. He keeps one hand outstretched, nearly touching the water swirling just beneath his skin, and extends the other one straight out from his side, one finger pointing.

Pointing at you.

Seconds later, the sound of rushing water streams past your ears, filling your senses so that you close your eyes in fright.

Crap, is he going to kill you for being a distraction? 

You don't know - it still sounds like water everywhere, and you keep your eyes closed because of it. He'll drown you, cover you in water until all the air runs out or something like that.

Out of all the times you've almost died today, you can't believe the final blow is going to be delivered by a freaking male version of Katara from The Last Airbender.

However, the watery sound eventually goes quiet.

You peek out from behind your eyelids.

"Holy..."

Heck.

You're in a bubble.

A thin, translucent membrane of water is surrounding you, arching up from the ground to cover you in a protective dome.

Inside of it the air is a little thick and humid, like being inside of a damp cave, and the light of the distant stars that beam in through Servus' glass dome are bent and distorted.

You can still see through; you can see Kimono still defending, but only with a single hand; the other is pointed at you, keeping the water dome securely formed around you. 

A stray bullet passes by and is caught by the water - it stops immediately upon impact and floats, a harmless shard of metal, in the liquid.

He's protecting you.

But it's costing him.

As another attacker slams into his shield of water. Kimono winces, flinching as the steadiness of the barrier wavers.

His companion, the figure wrapped from finger to toe in black cloth, stiffens at the sight.

Its head turns, following the direction of Kimono's arm until, once again, your pathetic, motionless form is noticed. 

From across the space between you, your eyes clash.

Deep, depthy violet.

Its eyes are impossible to look away from.

You aren't close - logically, you shouldn't be able to see the details as clearly as you can. You shouldn't be able to notice the striation of the colors, from deep plum to airy lavender, complexly blended into one shade of startling, vibrant purple.

You shouldn't be able to see the odd slashes of silver and ocher through the iris, the colors that make its eyes look like miniature stars, glowing from within and punctuated by a black hole pupil in the center.

They're sucking you into their gravitational orbit, holding you tight with physical force like a tiny asteroid caught in the grasp of a massive planet.

In fact, you're so caught up in the impossible complexities of its eyes that you don't see the alien that's abandoned the fight against Kimono until she's almost on you.

As a dull color blurs into lines on the other side of your water dome, you come back into yourself, noticing with a start that a grey-skinned, dark-haired female has slipped away from the fight. Now she stands in front of you, observing your protection with distaste.

Her eyes glance back to Kimono and his companion with the purple eyes, watching them closely, and you understand instantly what she's doing.

Right now, you're a weakness.

With Kimono distantly protecting you, his powers are split. He's weaker now, not able to defend himself as well as before.

She could take you as a hostage.

If this being threatens you any more, if Kimono allows any more of his power to slip here to protect you, it would weaken him to the point that her fellow attackers could break past his shield.

"Stop," you croak, throat dry. There's still blood coming from your wound. Your hands are covered with it, stained red like the scar tissue around your wrists. "He doesn't know me, I swear.  In the end, he won't hold this up. Killing me won't affect him, so please don't."

The woman's expression is rendered vague and fuzzy by the water, but you can see enough to notice her lips tilt into a smile.

She doesn't believe you.

Her hand reaches out, and tests the barrier of water between you.

She pushes.

It holds.

"Please," you say. "I'm begging."

Distantly, you hear a shout. "Tae! Come back here! Taehyung!"

She pushes again. The water gives a bit under her fingers, but still holds.

The third time, though, her fingers easily glide through the water and emerge in front of you. The skin of her hand is rough and grey and empty, like living stone.

When her whole body comes through, you can see that the other one isn't so empty - there's a gun in it.

You shrink back.

She reaches for you.

Then she stops.

The woman's mouth opens, revealing pointed teeth , and her hand begins to tremble a little as it reaches out for you.

Then, so quick that you almost yelp, the woman begins to seize violently.

Her entire body is wracked with spasms, eyes rolling into the back of her head, mouth open in suspended, wordless agony. You don't do a thing but watch as her legs give out, and she collapses to the ground in a limp heap, half-in half-out of your protective dome.

Now, with her figure gone, you can see behind her.

A hand, pale-skinned and long-fingered, is inside the water. You can see the blank blur of its owner beyond - covered in black.

It's Kimono's companion - the being with the space-light eyes.

Its hand retracts, moving outside the water.

Without thinking, you follow it.

On your hands and knees you crawl, the absurd desire to see those eyes up close overtaking any pain coming from your leg.

The water is an odd sensation to pass through, a temporary film of cool moistness that beads on your skin like morning dew. You push through it, emerging on the other side with damp hair and searching eyes.

There he is - he, you specify, because he's removed the covering on his face and is now obviously male - watching you with wide eyes.

His nose is straight and high-bridged, stretching tight the smooth, milky pale skin which is flawlessly clear with the exception of a tiny freckle on the very tip of his nose.

Violet markings splatter artfully across the skin of his forehead, rounding the deeper hue of his lips and eyes, the shadow of his nose and the tops of his ears in an inconsistent, abstract imitation of a racoon's markings. The color is lighter there, a captivating contrast from his pure white skin.

His cheek bones are high but soft, flowing sweetly down to a pair of lips that are equally full between the lower and upper portions, and a rich purple. Strong eyebrows cut heavily through the delicate violet markings on his forehead, colored a light, almost platinum blond. Tendrils of hair the same color are escaping the edges of his head wrap.

And those eyes.

Those breathtaking eyes.

Round and large in his face, almost feminine, and so beautiful that you're shocked to find moisture welling up in your own. 

Wow. 

He's so beautiful that you're literally crying at the sight of him.

Embarrassed, you force your eyes away from him, only to screech at a metallic silver flash cutting through the air.

"Watch out!" You grab his wrist and pull him towards you, sending him sprawling beside you just as a knife slashes through the place he just was.

Although your mind wants to linger on the electric warmth that his touch sent through you, you have more important matters to worry about.

Another alien has left the fight to join you, this one a big male with ears like a bat and stripes of fur under his arms. He bares his teeth at you, crouching threateningly, and you clutch the purple-eyed man's arm.

A quick glance reveals that said purple-eyed man isn't even paying attention. Instead, his eyes are glued to the spot where your skin is meeting his, mouth open in shock.

"You-" he splutters, speaking for the first time in a rich, deep voice that rasps beautifully.

"Focus," you demand, but your intentions are snatched away when the alien before you howls, clutching his side and stumbling.

Behind him, Kimono stomps in almost a tantrum-like manner toward you, his teeth gritted in anger as the grey and black flowers on his garment sway. 

The furred alien starts to attack again, but Kimono swats him away with a jet of water as if he's only a harmless insect.

Kimono marches up to you and his purple-eyed friend, standing over you irritably with hands braced on slender hips.

"Taehyung," he hisses. "How am I supposed to protect you when you're always running off?"

A glance at where he came from reveals only a scattering of limp bodies, either unconscious or dead. 

The bat-like alien tries again, but this time Kimono turns around fully and knocks him back with a burst of water that hits him so hard his head cracks violently against the ground when he lands. He goes still.

Kimono turns back to his friend. "Are you alright? Did you touch someone?"

Taehyung doesn't respond. His eyes are still on you, impossibly big and startled.

"You touched me," he says.

"Saved you," you correct weakly. 

How much blood can you loose before you die? You aren't sure, but your vision is getting a little fuzzy, and your wound burns.

"She touched you?" you hear Kimono say, but his voice is muted, far away.

The world is narrowing down, stars and leaves and sky-like glass disappearing and being replaced with Taehyung's eyes, staring at you.

All you can see are his eyes.

"You touched me," he says. "You touched me, and you're alive."

It doesn't register. You're beyond hearing.

You're beyond everything.

Even Taehyung's eyes are stolen by the blackness that swallows you up.

[A/N]

Unedited

Guys, does this even make sense? I can't tell. I'm not sure I'm expressing my imaginings properly. Is it going too fast? Confusing you? Please let me know.

Also

THE FIRST SPARK FANART

ALL HAIL