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jishyucks · 1 year

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Walls, Brawls, & Sudden Rainfalls ‣ hrj

‣ pairing: renjun x reader

‣ genre: enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, fluff!, slow burn (!), college au

‣ wc: 23.6k (gawdamn)

‣ summary: Your first impression of Huang Renjun wasn’t the greatest. In fact, the first two encounters you did have with him were enough for you to conclude that he was just some cold-blooded boy who genuinely didn’t care about anyone else but himself. That was, of course, before the (damn) universe brings you both together to work on the local daycare’s mural.

↳ Alternatively where first impressions blind the fact that you two actually fit quite well together.

‣ warnings?: Brief mention of underage drinking, Renjun and reader argue really childishly lots, when I meant slow burn, I really did mean slow burn, very very brief mention of doing the dirty bc reader chooses to be dirty-minded (but they don't actually do it nonono)

‣ an: this is the longest fic I've posted ever (so far), so it feels like I’ve incubated it in the womb, went into labour, gave birth, raised it, and now I'm setting it shi free and into the world lmaooo,,, anyways thank you so much to @hoonieji (my bestie) for reading over this and reassuring me that it was going great,, I hope you all enjoy this!!! <333

‣ taglist!: @hoonieji @nanaflwers @dandelionxgal @flowerpotrenjun @renjun-fairy @she-is-dreaming @mosviqu @hibernatinghamster @glamourizz — can't tag @markleeiloveyou @lovehowdream

ONE.

With the hundreds, hell even thousands, of people in university, there will always be a handful of rude, miserable people that you were deemed to run into sooner or later.

Sure, not all of them mean to be rude. Often, there would be the occasional bump on the shoulder in the crowded corridors… Or there would be those newly woken up individuals who would give dirty looks, obviously not giving a single fuck. You’re a nice person. You understand those people since everyone did had bad days. But there was one man—cough—boy that genuinely had an attitude that needed to be fixed.

You didn’t know his name, nor did you want to know his name, but you could easily pick him out of a crowd because of the smug look he always repped. Funnily enough, it was the very look you wanted to very badly slap off of his face.

The only reason you knew of him was that he seemed to have a desire to be a menace to those who got in his way and unfortunately, you constantly ended up being on the receiving end of these situations.

There was one morning you had been running late to class—no—you were sprinting to the auditorium in hopes of only missing the run-through of the previous class. Your field of vision chose to settle only on the doors of your class, which at the time was a huge mistake. The focal point blocked out everything else, causing you to run into the before mentioned boy in a rough manner.

“What the fuck!?” You both were on the ground, briefly stunned at the collision, “This shirt is expensive!” You looked up and realized that dark coffee had stained the boy’s light-coloured shirt. The look on his face caused your heart to drop and eyes to widen.

“I’m so sorry! I really am! I’m just late–”

“I didn’t ask for an explanation,” he scoffed. He stood up, peeling the shirt off of his skin. It tented easily.

“I can repay you…” You say quickly, speaking before you could even process what you wanted to say.

“Can you pay for a hundred-dollar shirt?”

You shake your head, but you think of alternative ways to repay him. Only him interrupting you even before you could begin listing them indicated that he wanted none of it, “You know what? It doesn’t matter.” And at that he leaves you stunned, belongings still scattered around your puzzled self.

“Well fuck you, then,” you mumbled. Rolling your eyes, you were pulled back into the situation you had been in prior to the encounter. Class was a lot more important than some douche anyway.

Another encounter between you both happened after about a month of the first. The Starbucks found on campus was not at its busiest, yet it was not quite empty either. The baristas and cashiers worked their hardest to satisfy their customers, walking to and from different stations behind the counter.

“Hi, can I order a grande iced caramel macchiato?” You questioned, one of your earphones sitting in your hand. The cashier nodded, asking for your name and other necessary information before you paid.

You thanked her before slowly moving towards the serving counter, taking notice of the boy when you did. He had his head down, attention directed at his phone’s screen. He, too, had earphones in, practically blocking out his surroundings. In a way, you were glad he didn’t notice your presence, the memory of last month’s conflict running through your head.

You placed yourself at the corner of the cafe, away from the boy but close to the counter. When you ordered at a cafe, you would often pay attention to the baristas, watching as they mixed up the drinks. You could see yours being made, which had been quick as there were still people waiting for their drinks.

When the barista finally clicked a lid onto the cup, you begin making your way to the counter, ready to take it and leave. She slid the designated smaller straw next to the drink, so you grabbed it before the drink, then made your leave. Little did you know, the drink you took wasn’t actually your drink.

“Excuse me!”

You genuinely didn’t hear the boy calling you because of music blaring through your earphones. And even though he was waving his arms to catch your attention through your peripheral vision, your attention was poured entirely on the drink you held snugly in your hand, poking the straw in.

“Excuse me!”

He finally caught up to you, grabbing your shoulder to stop you. The sudden contact caused you to jump, attention shooting from the drink and up to the boy. You don’t say anything, pausing the current bop that was playing.

“That’s my drink,” he gestured towards the drink, “Well not my drink but my friend told me to pick it up for him.”

You look down at the name, seeing a Donghyuck printed on the sticker. You blushed and replied sheepishly, “Oh I’m sorry, I genuinely thought it was mine…” You hold it out to him, “Do you want it? I haven't taken a sip from it yet.”

“Of course I want it, I’ve been waiting for ages,” he mutters, promptly grabbing the drink from your hand. Without another word, he walks away, muttering a string of words you couldn’t quite make out.

“What? No ‘thank you’?!” You yell back.

He doesn’t turn back, and not because he had his music playing, but because he didn’t want to. You curse under your breath and walk back to the cafe, seeing that your drink with your name on it had been waiting for you.

Though you didn’t have the right to judge an individual, especially since you didn’t even know his name, the two encounters had given you a bad image of him. Two encounters in two different situations… you were being polite in both situations regardless of how embarrassed you had been only to be returned with cold responses. Who did he think he was?

“Li Shang.”

“I agree, one hundred percent,” you replied. Yeji held up a hand for you to give her a high-five, which you completed. The conversation topic on Disney Princes had been more entertaining than the chemistry homework due next week, “That’s why you’re my best friend.”

“Him and Prince Naveen,” she kisses her fingers in a ‘chef kiss’ type of movement, “That’s all I have to say.”

“Also!” You hold up a finger, pause for dramatic effect and state, “Tadashi Hamada.”

“He’s not a prince… but I will let it pass because it’s Tadashi Hamada,” she giggles. You watch her sit back in the library chair she pulled out from another table because it had padding for your butt, smiling. She drops her pen onto her textbook, “Taste.”

Before you could reply and add to her comment, a third presence appears to the right of you and the left of Yeji, which puts the conversation on pause. You turn to see Jaemin bent down to catch his breath. He had a wrinkled sheet of paper in one hand and his phone in the other, his bag open at the top.

“Woah, are you good?” You asked, standing up and assisting him towards one of the seats as if he were one of the elderly you helped once in a while at the old folks home. He nods but keeps silent, taking in deep breaths.

Once Jaemin finally caught his breath, he began to spew out whatever news he had for you or Yeji, “That’s the… most exercise I’ve… done in years.” He gulps and sighs out, “Anyways, Y/N you’re looking for a place to work or volunteer at right? Like art-wise or something? Kids? Puppies? I don’t know… I forgot what you were going for…”

You nodded, “Just any type of volunteer or temporary job… Yeah, I still have no luck.”

“Well, this is perfect for you then!” Jaemin flattens out the crumpled-up sheet of paper in front of you, “They need some people to help paint a mural for this daycare. No previous experience needed. As long as you can hold a paintbrush!”

Yeji leans in to get a look at the sheet, “Woah, you get paid too! That sounds like fun. I would do it with you if I wasn’t busy with these damn classes.” She sinks back into her chair and begins playing with the sheets of her textbook.

“I ran here because a bunch of people might want the job.” Jaemin says, “The daycare is literally just behind the campus.”

You stand up, the adrenaline Jaemin previously possessed taking over your veins, “Can you watch my stuff!?” Your phone was already in hand and you were ready to sprint out of the library and to the daycare Jaemin had been talking about.

“Of cou–“

And at that, you were gone and running towards the building. To your luck, the library was by the back of the campus, so the run wasn’t as far as you anticipated. You could sense other students eyeing you as you sped past, though you didn’t really care since you were merely a flash in their eyes.

Once you had arrived at the daycare, you entered and made your way to the front counter, “Hello, I’m here for the painting job?”

The lady at the desk looked exhausted, eyes halfway closed and face struggling to present a welcome expression, “Can you draw and paint? All that kind of stuff?”

“Yes! That’s mostly why the job appealed to me,” you replied, “Do you need a resum–“

“You’re hired…” she mumbled stiffly, “Please fill this sheet out and show up here on Saturday at one in the afternoon for further instruction.”

Smiling, partly stunned, you nodded before turning to leave. That was easier than you thought… all that running was worth it.

TWO.

You sat across the street from the daycare, contemplating whether it would be better to come early or right on time. Through the windows, you could see that they weren’t as busy as yesterday due to it being a Saturday. It wouldn’t hurt to show up early right? Standing up, you dust your butt off before making your way to the crosswalk.

“Hello, I’m here for the job information. I was hired yesterday,” you explained, “My name is Y/N L/N.” The person (wo)manning the desk was a different lady from a few days ago. The woman held a smile on her face, one that reached her eyes so, to you, it seemed like a genuine smile. You squinted at her name tag, which read Joy.

Huh… fitting…

“Oh good!” She exclaimed, “Now you can sit just over there as we’re waiting for another person.”

“Another person?”

“Of course! We’re not expecting one person to work on the entire mural alone. It’s larger than it looks, so we decided to hire anyone who asked. Those two were you two,” she explained the situation, “I’ll further explain the objective of the assignment when the other boy arrives.”

Your ears perked up as you nodded, Boy? A small little piece of you started hoping that, whoever this other person was, was cute.

You hear the door open behind you, a small greeting leaving the lips of the smiley woman, “Oh! This must be him! Are you here for the job?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the voice replied. It sounded rather familiar, but you were unable to pinpoint who it could have belonged to. Curious, you turn to look at the owner of the voice. Once you had processed who had been standing a few feet away from you, your jaw dropped.

You both speak at once, evidently shocked at the coincidence.

“You!?”

You couldn’t help but feel the sudden impulse to quit the job before it even started. You’d rather accidentally fall into dog shit than work with this unnamed douche of a boy.

“Do you two know each other?” Joy questioned, “That’s even bett–“

“N-no, not quite,” you interrupted, “We’ve just… had a few encounters on campus.” You choose to turn your body completely towards Joy so that you couldn’t accidentally look at the other presence.

Joy nods, “Makes sense… Anyways, name?” She directed the question towards the boy, pulling out another sheet from a clipboard.

“Huang Renjun.” It was funny finally being able to put a name to his face, especially after all this time. But you very much preferred ‘that boy’ over his name.

You feel him approach the desk, standing beside you as Joy begins going over the job instructions. You two were expected to paint a mural over the next month, about two to four days per week depending on how long you both worked. The theme of the painting is what was expected from a daycare mural, something pleasing to the eye, especially the eyes of kids. The two of you had freedom over what you wanted to paint but were expected to get the idea checked over by Joy before the actual painting started. Once that was approved, they’ll provide all the supplies for the painting process to begin. Easy.

If only you were working on the project with anyone else but Huang Renjun.

“Any further questions?” Joy concluded, shifting her glance between you and Renjun. You both shook your heads, “Okay good. I think a rough deadline for the idea should be around the end of next week? The boss really needs this done in a month.” You both nodded silently before turning to leave the daycare.

“How do you want to brainstorm the idea?” Renjun had muttered before you were able to walk off.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “How do you?”

He scowls, “I guess we can just meet up here during designated hours?”

“That makes the most sense, doesn’t it?” you don’t feel like replying to him kindly if he spoke with an underlying attitude. Someone really needed to teach him basic manners.

“Whatever.” Renjun leaves you alone in front of the daycare, giving you a chance to roll your eyes behind his back.

You choose not to walk away from the daycare until you’re sure he’s left, opting to use your phone and scroll through whatever notifications you’ve missed during the meeting. Your face is left in a painful grimace, one that you didn’t even feel you’ve rendered on your face.

You can’t believe you’re working on a team project with this particular boy out of all people. Yes, it was a bit overdramatic, but you’re not quite sure how to work with someone you’ve only had bad encounters with. It also doesn’t help that he seems to have mutual feelings for you—which you find particularly ridiculous since you really haven’t done anything wrong to him on purpose.

It’s somehow the next day when you’re able to tell Yeji about the happenings of yesterday. Though the topic only came up when Jaemin questions you about the gig and Yeji notices how your face contorts into a stiff frown. The both of you are sitting in the dining hall, food half-finished but untouched for the past ten minutes.

“What’s up with your face?” Yeji questions, almost laughing out loud at your shift in mood. This is something you really liked about Yeji. She was talented at reading facial expressions. There could be the tiniest quirk in your brow and she’d be questioning you to world’s end.

You purse your lips and stare back at her, “What face?”

“This face,” Yeji contorts her face into an exaggerated glower, “What’s up with that? I thought you were excited about the painting gig?” Jaemin nods along to what Yeji said.

You don’t reply for one long second, trying to figure out how to explain to your best friend what happened yesterday afternoon. “Do you remember that guy I was really pissed off about a few weeks ago?”

Yeji pauses to think, “The guy with the coffee?”

You think about it and realize that both encounters you’ve had with Huang Renjun involved coffee. “Yeah, him! Today, at the meeting, guess who came as my temporary partner for the project.”

“No way!” Yeji’s eyes open, “That’s a whole coincidence! No wonder why you looked all pissed.” You can tell by the new wave of expression on her face that she feels sorry, “Is he still… douchey?”

Your eyes widen as you nod, leaning forward, “Yeah, but what’s new?” You’re about to roll your eyes, mouth opening with an intention to add more, but Yeji’s eyes shift from you to something behind you. She holds her gaze there for a few moments before her brows furrow in confusion. Her eyes flicker back to you.

“You know it’s not good to be talking bad about someone behind their backs right?” You turn and see Renjun with a friend of his. “Someone’s ending up on Santa’s naughty list.”

Your brows knit together, “You’re one to say something…”

Renjun throws you a look before taking a long sip from his drink. You can’t help but look at the beverage, an iced matcha latte, and feel yourself craving it. It looks good.

Renjun clears his throat, “Anyways, we’re meeting tomorrow.” His friend stands awkwardly behind him, looking like he just wants to be there to eat.

“That doesn’t even sound like a question,” you point out.

He shrugs, “Because it’s not… I have places to be.”

You look over at Yeji who’s witnessing the attitude of the one and only Huang Renjun. Even you can see that Yeji’s shocked at how Renjun’s interacting with you.

“Fine, whatever,” you wave him off, “Whatever makes you leave.”

“Good, because I wasn’t even going to give you a choice. I’m showing up even if you’re not there.” At that, Renjun and his (poor) friend walk away, leaving both you and Yeji rather stunned.

In the corner of your eye, you see Yeji turn to look at you, so you look back, noticing her sorry expression, “Good luck tomorrow, Y/N.”

You thank her. Not because it was what people usually replied to the comment, but because you knew you genuinely needed it.

THREE.

Upon entering the daycare and being directed into a secluded room by Irene, another employee who ran the desk, you find Renjun sitting hunched over a sheet of paper. You could see his hand was working fast and that his attention was focused mostly on whatever he was doing. One side of the room gave you and Renjun a look at the main area of the daycare.

“You’re late,” he muttered, not looking up.

“You’re early,” you retorted. The clock at the corner of the room tells the truth. You had only been five minutes late. How much brainstorming could the boy have even done in that span of time?

He doesn’t reply to your response, slumping back in his chair to continue his brainstorming. You can’t help but make a face behind his back, slipping into a chair at the same table but across from him, refusing to sit next to him. You didn’t want him looking over your shoulder during your creative process, or else you’d lose your mind.

But then you remembered that you were here to work with him. “You know, we met up here so that we can work on the idea together,” you point out, “But you do seem like the person who wouldn’t know what the word cooperation means.” Not even two minutes into this so-called meeting and you want to leave.

Maybe you should just quit.

“You don’t even know me?” Renjun lifts his head towards you and scoffed, “So you can’t say that.” “You’re right,” you nodded, “I don’t know you, but I’ve bumped into you enough times to know you don’t give a single fuck about those you don’t know.” You pull out a pencil from your bag and take one of the spare sheets of paper sitting in the middle of the table. You start to write out random phrases that come to mind, whether it be inspirational or a pop culture reference.

Renjun scoffs, “I’ll have you know, most of our encounters happened because of you.” You can see he’s adding colour to his draft, giving you no direct attention, “This all would be avoided if you weren’t an accident waiting to happen.”

“You know there’s always better ways to go about those same situations,” you spit back, “Because, I don’t know, accidents happen? Other people wouldn’t make big deals out of them.”

Renjun mutters a quiet ‘whatever,’ under his breath, huffing out in frustration as he continues with his draft. At this point, you’re halfway done with your draft, which consisted of a cute scene of kids and a generic playground background. It was a bit mediocre, but you thought simple was cute. You both continue on in silence, letting the sounds of the kids playing drown it out.

The silence wasn’t awkward. In fact, you could listen to the serene, no-sound room as if it were a hit song you’ve been obsessing over the past week. Anything but Renjun’s voice was a blessing, especially in situations like this.

After about half an hour, Renjun looks over at your draft, “You do know kids can’t read, right? At least kids attending this daycare.”

You scowl. “Yeah and?” You continued with your business, “Haven’t you seen that movie ‘The Pursuit of Happyness’?”

Renjun thinks for a hot second, “No.”

Your eyes shot up at him, surprised that he hasn’t seen the classic. When you weren’t in the mood to watch other movies, you’d naturally gravitate towards rewatching that one. It was a good movie, one that made you cry, yes, but you liked the underlying meaning behind the movie. “That explains everything.”

“What do you mean?”

You ignore his question completely, “There were words on that daycare’s mural, I don’t think it’s wrong to add some words to the mural, Huang Renjun. Besides, lettering is what I’m best at.”

Renjun glares at you. “What if I don’t want words on the mural?” He quickly glances down at his own picture. It was more of a realistic picture, one of the skies with balloons floating through the scene. Attached to some of the balloons were toys or items associated with being a kid. It was simple, but he found it rather cute. To him, it beat your average picture of kids by a playground.

“What if I don’t want… whatever that is?” you childishly argue back, “Look, I know my idea is simple, but simple is easier and simple is usually best. Your picture has so much shading… imagine the two of us having to paint that.”

Renjun tries to hold back a laugh, “Are you serious? My picture’s obviously better than yours.”

You both immaturely argue for another twenty minutes, pointing out the most ridiculous reasons for why your own pictures were one-hundred-and-ten percent better than the other’s. And it was consequently the stubbornness that both you and Renjun possessed that leaves you both with no decision by the time the shift was near over.

Your eyes drift to the clock sitting above the window, “Time’s almost up and we still haven’t figured out what we want to do. Let’s just settle with mine.” You push the picture towards the centre of the table, eyes holding your hopes of your idea being chosen. Maybe Renjun will finally break.

“I don’t think we should,” Renjun shrugs, voice monotone, “Let’s just… decide on it the next shift. I really don’t want to deal with this—or you—right now.” Renjun picks his phone up and takes a picture of his and your pictures sitting in the middle of the table for reference.

You follow in pursuit before snatching your draft from its spot. You feel a sense of relief knowing that you can finally return to your Huang-Renjun-less life. “Fine, whatever you want. I don’t wanna deal with you either.”

The shift abruptly ends with Renjun taking his leave first, leaving the room without another word. He bids a quick goodbye to Irene, who has no knowledge of what just happened before exiting the building entirely.

Renjun feels nothing but irritation walking back to his dorm room. Days ago, he remembers being excited about the gig. He gets paid to do something he truly loves, all while giving such a flat looking building some colour to make it pop, which clearly was a win-win for both him and the daycare. But the fact that you’re there with the apparent purpose to contradict everything he’s planned, the excitement was simply sucked out of it all.

Renjun finally settles back at his shared dorm room, hanging his bag on the back of the nearest dining room chair before sitting himself at the couch, where both Donghyuck and Jeno were playing Super Smash Bros. Although they were rather loud, he’s just glad to be back in an atmosphere he knows he can relax in.

“Hey, how was your painting thingy?” Jeno asks, eyes glued to the screen. In between Jeno’s question and Renjun’s response, there’s rapid clicking coming from the two boys’ controllers.

“It was… fine, I guess,” Renjun mutters. He pulls up his phone and mindlessly swipes through social media.

Both Donghyuck and Jeno don’t fail to notice the bummed tone in his voice. Donghyuck speaks up, “‘I guess’?” There’s more clicking, “You suck at this, Jeno.”

“Remember who I’m working with?” Renjun hints, “She literally contradicts everything I say and do for no fucking reason. It’s draining.”

More clicks. Then Jeno finally replies, “That doesn’t sound fun at all. Maybe she’s not aware about what she’s doing?”

Renjun sighs, “I think she knows what she’s doing. I just think she’s doing it to spite me. You should hear her arguments. They’re so senseless and they make me want to laugh.”

On his phone, Renjun pulls up the photo he’s taken of both of your drafts and enlarges yours. This is the first time today that he’s able to properly look at your picture and he can’t help but actually like it. No, he still doesn’t like your idea about the kids and the playground, but the words you had chosen to letter over top the main picture.

Adventure Is Out There. Although it was pulled directly from the movie Up, the quote works perfectly well with the daycare’s name, The Adventurers. He liked it. But he wouldn’t admit that to your face.

Renjun zooms out of your picture to show both of your drafts once again, eyes glancing between both images. The gears in his head begin turning, Renjun’s creative process in the works, as begins mustering up an idea that could possibly work for the both of you.

“How about we take your quote and add it to my picture?”

It’s two days later and Renjun’s monotonously suggesting the idea that had developed in his mind some nights ago. No other ideas have been brought up since then and Renjun wants nothing else but to start on the project.

You look up at him with a raised brow, “Oh, so Huang Renjun’s finally admitting that his picture is plain as shit?” You’re not against what Renjun’s suggesting, only because what he was thinking made sense. The balloons that his drawing had reminded you of Up. It did go well with your quote, plus you were able to incorporate your want of lettering.

Renjun narrows his eyes at you, “It’s not ‘plain as shit.’ I just want to get this over with.” He reaches for a brand new piece of paper and begins drawing a second copy of his drawing.

You sigh. “Fine whatever. But I get to suggest something about it too.” You eye how quick he was to copy down his drawing, head pivoting back and forth to replicate it.

Renjun chooses not to look up, “What is it?” Although he was willing to hear you out, there’s still a splash of irritation in his voice.

“Don’t make it so realistic.”

His head is brought up to look at you, “And why not?”

“It’s a daycare,” you say flatly, “Do you not remember that? Where’s the ‘cute’ factor in making it look realistic? This isn’t a commission from the city, Huang Renjun.”

You have a valid point, Renjun thinks. He admits he’s been treating this as more important than it really was, but that’s just how he was. “Fine. It will be easier to paint anyway.” Renjun turns back to the new drawing, making it a little more kid-like. He refrains from colouring the picture before sliding it in your direction, “The quote.”

Pulling the new draft towards you, you pick up your own pencil and start your part of the drawing. Looking at Renjun’s sketch, you realize that you can’t place the words exactly how you had it on your original draft. There were areas that you didn’t want to cover.

“After you’re done, I’ll colour it,” Renjun mutters, “Write down the supplies we need, then we can leave.”

Only you using your eyes to look at him, you reply, “Sure.” And when he looks back down at his phone, you roll your eyes. Someone needs to tell him to simmer down with his attitude. Then maybe you can tolerate him easier.

You pass the sheet of paper back to Renjun and sigh. There’s a sense of relief in your chest when you realize that this part of the process was over. Thinking back to two days ago, the way you and Renjun argued over what to do for the mural, you thought that there was no way you were getting it done in time, at least not with both of you being satisfied.

But that’s all done and over with. Luckily this was the hardest part of the project.

Right?

FOUR.

“You’re gonna be there for how long?” Yeji peers over her laptop’s screen, eyes wide at what you just told her.

“Four hours,” you answer, “That’s not even that long, Yej.” You’re laughing quietly as you put your sneakers on, half-assedly tying the laces. The walk there is around ten minutes and it’s already 1:48. You can already hear Renjun’s ‘you’re late,’ along with his deadpan expression.

“I know, but I’m going to be here alone on a weekend afternoon,” she whines. You watch as her face quickly changes expressions, “Wait do you want me to bring you a snack later? Rub it into Renjun’s face that you have a great best friend who brings you food?” She bats her eyes and angles her face to convince you into saying yes.

You shake your head, “It’s only four hours today cause we’re finally starting the mural and we want to get the base done today. And I’ll be fine, I promise. Maybe invite Jaemin here for the time being.”

“He’s off somewhere with his friend,” Yeji sighs, “But whatever you say. I’ll miss you!”

You playfully roll your eyes, “Bye Yej. I’ll miss you, too.” And at that, you’re off to the daycare.

The peaceful walk to the daycare can be the calm before the storm, the storm being Huang Renjun. The idea made you laugh a little bit, childishly picturing Renjun like how animators would draw angry anime characters with a crimson face, steam blowing out of their ears and nose, and pupil-less eyes. You feel like that’s the only emotional state you’ve seen the boy in and you can’t help but curiously imagine how Renjun’s smile would look.

You shake that thought out of your head before you let it run further into nonsense, finally arriving at the building. Through the glass doors, you can see Renjun sitting by the front desk. Upon entering, Joy, who was sitting at her computer, looks up with a bright smile, “Good afternoon, Y/N.” Renjun does nothing but let his attention waver over you for a quick second before going back to his own business.

“Hi, Joy,” you greet back, “Sorry to keep you waiting.” Renjun finally stands up and stands at your side.

“Oh, no, no! You’re right on time and I will speak to you guys very quickly before I let you guys get to work,” she rounds the counter and leads you both to the meeting room like always, “So since the draft was approved, the supplies you needed, plus ones I’ve added are just in here. Grab what you need and you guys are free to start.” She shows you a closet near the back of the room, opening the door to reveal the many supplies that were ordered.

“Thank you, Joy,” Renjun nodded.

“It’s no problem! If you guys have any concerns, you know who to go to!” Spinning on her heel, Joy flashes one last smile.

“Chalk, white paint, string, ruler,” Renjun mumbles, taking the supplies up into his arms.

You grab the paint brushes, “Why do we need half of what you just said?”

Renjun’s walking out of the room, paying almost no mind to you and your question.

“Huang Renjun,” you say firmly, “Can you answer my question?” You both are outside at this point, “Or… or else I’ll chuck this brush at you!” Although it was a joke, you subconsciously knew you would if he seriously didn’t open his mouth within the next minute.

“So I can draw a grid?” He speaks to you as if you were stupid.

Oh, he’s going to get it, you think, but your thoughts and your body think and do different things. Your body decides to stay grounded where you were, “And why would we need a grid?”

Renjun huffs and turns to his bag. He fishes out the draft you both had made last week, only there’s a graph lightly drawn over it, “So we can replicate the picture onto the wall.” Renjun thought this over the past few days. If he and you wanted to mural to turn out exactly how you both had drawn it, eyeing it wouldn’t be the best to go about it. Hell, even drawing out a rough sketch of it could be difficult through eyeing it.

“Can’t we just free-hand it?” You’re not understanding why Renjun wants to make the job more difficult than it was. There were only two of you. If there were maybe four of you working on the mural, then sure, go ahead and draw a graph, but there were only two of you.

Renjun shakes his head, “I think it’s worth it to draw the graph, that way there’s no chance of messing up.” He fiddles mindlessly with the string he’s been holding. You can tell by the expression on his face that he’s serious about this. You want to tell him that, ‘bro, this is a mural for a daycare, it doesn’t need to be one-hundred-percent perfect,’ but Renjun looks like he’s ready to fight for what he wants.

“Fine, let’s draw the graph,” you say.

Renjun looks at you confused. Why’d you back down so quick? “Huh?”

“But you do it all on your own.”

Ah… There it is.

“I’ll just sit here and wait for you to finish.”

Renjun wants to laugh out loud, not because the situation was funny, but because he can’t believe you’re actually saying what you just said. “Are you serious?”

You sit down at a nearby bench and nod, “Why would I be joking? You sure do act like you know what you want to do… so, go ahead. Do it.” A spiteful smile rises upon your lips and you wave for him to go on with his task. Being the stubborn boy he was, Renjun gives you one firm look before turning towards the small ladder. He drags it towards the right end of the wall and begins preparing the materials.

You watch him out of curiosity, wanting to know how he’ll manage to do it all on his own. You want to see if he’ll ask for your help, or end up wanting to free-hand the rough sketch in end. But as you do observe Renjun, it’s clear that he’s not going to ask for help or give up.

Renjun measures out string that’s about the height of the wall, 3 metres tall, and then the length, which was near 4 and a half metres long. Grabbing measuring tape, Renjun uses the ladder to measure and divide the wall into foot-by-foot squares, marking the corners of the squares with dark chalk lines. The job’s going to take long, that’s for sure, and watching him move up and down the ladder, while he tries his best to keep his marks aligned, you can’t help but feel bad for making him do it on his own.

But then again, he wasn’t asking for help.

Renjun on the other hand is struggling and he hopes you don’t see it. Yes, two hands were enough for the daily tasks he has grown accustomed to, but two hands weren’t enough to do this very task efficiently. There’s a voice at the very back of his brain that was itching him to ask you for help, but as always, Renjun and his stubborn ass refuse to do so, even if he’s on the edge of falling off of the ladder.

“Can you hand me the black paint?” Renjun asks about forty-five minutes later. His hairline is drenched from sweat and the lack of expression on his face reveals how tired he was, “Please.” He hopes that you’d at least help with this.

Without another word between the two of you, you stand up and pick up the bucket of black paint. You quickly plop it down next to the foot of the ladder before looking up at him, “Are you done with the graph?” You try your best to sound disinterested, eyes moving across the wall.

Renjun blinks down at you, “Does it look finished?”

There’s a caring instinct in you that notices the exhausted look in Renjun’s eyes. His eyelids are drooping, and he’s sniffling from the constant moving he’s been doing. Renjun’s sweating profusely from the sun beating down on the both of you, and you’re brought to wonder if he was prepared to be worked up to this degree.

When your eyes meet his, you’re instantly pulled from your thoughts and you remember that you’re not supposed to give a single fuck about Huang Renjun, even if he’s working his ass off like this. He looks like he’s waiting for you to answer or leave to go sit back down. But a rogue idea somehow assembles itself in your head and you decide to just go with it. You roll your eyes, “Well, I’m going to the washroom if you aren’t.”

“Whatever.” He gives you one last glare before turning to the black paint and the string.

You start making your way to the front door of the building, sending Renjun sneaky glances. The second he’s paying you no attention, both direct and peripheral, you make a break for it and start sprinting towards the centre of campus. There was no doubt that you look like a madman right now, zooming past students who were still on campus despite the day of the week, but you didn’t care. If you want to pull this off, then you need to do this quick—and quick means running like you were in a life or death situation.

Finally reaching your destination, you decide to take a breather, hands on your knees and everything. Your mind wanders back to the day you applied for the gig, getting deja vu from the exhaustion you’re feeling right now.

Once you finally are able to catch your breath, you make your way into the building and sigh at the air conditioning.

“Y/N! Hi! The usual?” The Starbucks worker, one you’ve obviously seen plenty of times, looks at you in an odd way but goes with the flow nonetheless. She’s smiling at you, finger hovering over the screen in front of her as she waits for a response.

You nod and add, “Add an iced matcha latte to that too. Make it venti, please.” She nods and continues on with the usual routine.

You left as quickly as you came, although this time, you’re sprinting with a bit more caution, not wanting to spill the drinks you’ve used your own money for. You can’t help but wonder what Renjun was thinking right now—what were you doing in the washroom for so long?

The two drinks you were holding in both of your hands said it all, though there was still no explanation why you decided to sacrifice some of your time and money for Renjun. It was just the nice person instinct inside of you that decided to do so.

You’ll complain about it to yourself later.

When you finally return from your little mission, you’re lucky enough to arrive when Renjun’s distracted with the graph. You notice he’s done the vertical lines within the time you were gone.

“That was a long washroom break,” Renjun muttered rather loudly. He’s pressing the paint-soaked string against the wall, face angled slightly to the side in focus, “I was beginning to think you ditched me.”

You shoot him a glare behind his back and contemplate whether you should throw the drink that you bought for him at him. Instead, you say nothing and put the drink down next to his things, making sure it was in a spot that was safe from the surroundings.

Renjun looks back at you, instantly noticing that you were now holding an entire Starbucks drink in your hand, completely missing the one sitting by his things. “Didn’t know they had a Starbucks in the washroom.” His tone is dripping with sarcasm and hints of irritation. He still can’t believe he’s actually been working on the graph for almost two hours on his own.

“Oh yeah, they just opened one a week ago,” you shoot back. You plop into your previous place and sit there, taking out your phone to distract you from Renjun.

You don’t realize how much time has passed when you see a pair of feet stop in front of you. You’re brought to look up at the owner, “What do you want?”

“I want a break.” Renjun answers flatly, “I’m done with the graph. Now work on transferring it.” He holds out the same draft he had shown you earlier, waiting for you to take it. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to show his shoulders and he’s using a small towel, that was originally supposed to be for the paintbrushes, to wipe his forehead.

“Sure” was all you said before snatching the draft from his fingertips.

All the hard work was done for you. Transferring it was easy.

Gathering the supplies you needed, chalk, paintbrushes, and white paint, you get going on transmitting the draft onto the wall. The moment you start the rough sketch of the mural, you feel a wave of nostalgia hit you, remembering the countless activity books you completed as a kid. You can distinctly recall the pages where one side displayed a cute drawing of an animal or character of some sort, overlaid by a graph, while the page next to it shows an empty graph in which you were instructed to redraw the completed picture. This was exactly like that, only bigger and not for leisure.

Your delight in starting distracts you easily from Renjun, who you unknowingly finally notices the drink you had gotten him not even thirty minutes earlier. Although he’s a bit puzzled by the drink, remembering damn well that he never got the drink himself, he lets his line of sight drift to your half-finished drink sitting by your things. When realization begins settling in, he does one more thing to confirm his thoughts.

Twisting the drink in his grasp, Renjun faces the sticker label towards him, eyes instantly finding what he was looking for.

*Y/N*

His eyes flicker up to you, standing firmly at the top of the step ladder, unaware of the fact that his eyes have widened and the corners of his mouth have climbed higher on his face. Despite the fact he’s thankful and a bit sorry that he was giving you attitude the second you got back from your ‘washroom break,’ the larger part of Renjun that’s still certainly irritated with you doesn’t say thank you.

Not out loud at least.

FIVE.

Painting a mural required many steps because painting on a giant wall was different to painting on a smaller, feasible canvas. You and Renjun were lucky enough that the wall had already been painted white, which you guess covered whatever was painted underneath.

Two shifts ago, you both had managed to finish the outline of the image you both had prepared for the mural, and the shift after that, you both opted to outline the main subjects of the mural with the base colours.

Although no problems had really arisen between the both of you (if you didn’t count small arguments about what shade of said colour a balloon should be), one weird thing you both noticed was the fact that none of you will willingly start on the same side as the other. You were no professional artist, nor have you been painting your entire life, but you knew damn well that the process of painting an image often involved starting at one part of the painting (usually the top) before working towards the other end. But regardless, the mural was, to your surprise, looking well done.

Today was the third day, and counting, of painting said first layer, and if you were being honest, you were having the fun you expected when you first applied for the gig. But you knew it was probably because you and Renjun simply chose not to speak with each other, aside from the simple ‘where’s the thicker paintbrush’ or ‘can you hand me that (mural painting tool here),’ there was an unspoken almost-truce between the two of you.

Leaning towards the wall, you apply lavender-coloured paint in short strokes, following the shape of the balloon you’ve been working for the past eleven minutes. You have music playing through your headphones, the volume just above half, and you can’t help but bop your head to the music.

“It’s almost five,” Renjun says quietly to you. He’s been working in silence the past few hours, but he almost loses track of time because of how caught up he’s gotten with painting. If it hadn’t been for the watch on his wrist, he would have gone overtime.

You don’t reply to him, continuing with your painting while Renjun begins to clean up. He finishes up with what he was working on before climbing down the ladder. He rinses the brush down and dries it, placing it into the paintbrush container that was provided for you both. Noticing that you haven’t moved from your spot, Renjun calls out to you again, “Hey! It’s almost five. We need to start cleaning up.”

Renjun sighs when he realizes you still can’t hear him, forcing him to walk up to you to catch your attention. He tugs gently at your jeans, which almost immediately catch your attention. You pull one side of your headphones off and glare down at him, “What do you want?”

“I said it’s five,” Renjun reciprocates your attitude, “Start cleaning up.” He turns away and starts gathering his things.

You blow a stray piece of hair from in front of your face and roll your eyes, though you are surprised that Renjun had the decency to let you know it’s time to go. You climb down your own ladder and do just as Renjun did earlier before carefully placing everything into a large storage bin. Then, once you were sure all the supplies were gathered inside the bin, you go to retrieve the step ladder, folding it so that you could use your shoulder to carry it. Renjun stands at one side of the bin to help you carry it, already having his belongings hanging from one shoulder.

It takes you both no longer than a minute to return the supplies to the closet, leaving with a goodbye to Irene, but no exchanges between the two of you (unsurprisingly). You let Renjun leave first, staying back to text Yeji where she and Jaemin were.

At the library studying!

Jaemin brought brownies

Say less.

You arrive at the library within the length of two songs, immediately finding the two sitting in the area that you all usually sat at. You were expecting them to be deep in focus, table drowning in pages and textbooks of their respective classes, but instead, you catch Yeji telling Jaemin to ‘shut up before we’re kicked out.’

“I thought you guys were supposed to be studying,” you snort, taking the spot next to Yeji. After standing for hours straight, being able to finally sit down felt good in the knees.

“Yeah, we were, but then Jaemin decided to bring up the topic of ugliest animals and we’ve been arguing ever since.” Yeji glares at Jaemin, “He claims that axolotls are the ugliest, but I say they’re cute.”

Jaemin starts laughing but you send him a look that was similar to Yeji’s, “Axolotls are cute, what are you even saying!?” Yeji’s eyes widen as she brings a hand up to cover your mouth. She shushes you.

She removes her hand from your mouth and you repeat yourself, but lower your volume, “What are you even saying? They look like they’re smiling.”

Jaemin gasps, “Excuse me? Name an animal uglier than an axolotl.”

“Easy.” You shrug and answer flatly, “You.” Obviously joking, you wave your hand as if to shoo away the statement, “Just kidding. A blobfish. Those are ugly as shit.”

Jaemin’s brows furrow as he leans forward towards his laptop to search it up. The way his face contorts itself makes you laugh, looking at you as if he’s seen the most disgusting image known to man (which probably did), “Shit, you’re right.”

You nod, “Exactly.”

Yeji laughs because she knows she won the argument thanks to your help. She quickly moves on with the topic, twisting the chair to face you, “So, how was your shift today?” Yeji’s expecting to hear something entertaining, especially since you’re working with Renjun.

“It was fine,” you say, “But it’s been like the past few days where me or Renjun don’t even talk to each other except for maybe the start and end. We work on the opposite sides of the mural anyways, so there’s no conflict. I’ve just been listening to my own music, too, so even if he does want to talk, he has to make an effort, which I know he won’t do.”

“Oh,” Yeji says, “Well, at least it isn’t as bad as those first few days. You guys just both sound done with each other.” You nodded and play with your phone in hand, not noticing the way Yeji’s attention diverts to Jaemin, “Oh right!”

“Hm?”

“Jaemin, tell Y/N what you were telling me about Renjun!” Your ears perk up at the mention of Renjun and possible gossip. Jaemin, though introverted, loved to branch out which meant he knew people through people. You wonder what type of stuff he’s heard of Renjun through acquaintances. This should be good.

For the hundredth time within the hour, Jaemin is distracted from his pending paper, but he doesn’t mind. He’d do anything to get away from actually working on it. Besides, he still has a week to work on it. “Oh, right!” He sits up and slides his computer to the side, “It’s interesting actually.”

The way Jaemin starts has you leaning in out of curiosity. This is probably what Yeji feels when you’re preparing to tell her about your day at the gig. “What is it?”

Jaemin lets out a ‘haha,’ then begins, “So, my friend Jeno knows Donghyuck because they went to high school together, and Donghyuck was the guy that was with Renjun that day at the dining hall, so we all basically know each other. I just don’t know Renjun as well because the dude is M.I.A. almost all the time.”

“Mm-hmm, go on.”

“I was telling Jeno how you were doing the painting gig with Renjun—don’t worry I didn’t say anything ’bout how you sorta loathe the guy—and Jeno was saying how Renjun’s always using his free time doing stuff like that.” Jaemin stops talking as if he’s explained every single detail he can about his small story.

“What stuff?” You gesture for him to keep going because you’re missing a handful of information, “You can’t just end it there, the fuck?”

Jaemin laughs again, “Okay, okay, sorry. But in fairness, I was curious too so I said the same thing and asked Jeno to explain it a bit more.” The brown of Jaemin’s eyes visibly move upwards as he tries to recall what Jeno told him, “He told me that Renjun is always M.I.A. because he’s been volunteering at different places. He used to work at an animal shelter downtown, then quit to volunteer at the homeless shelter for women and children. But he quit that too, now he’s been volunteering at the retirement home near here. I guess he took up the painting gig for money though.”

You burst out laughing, “Ah, Na Jaemin…”

“What!?”

“Thank you for the laugh, Jaems,” you say, “But that’s such a bad joke. There’s no way Renjun’s done those things. If it is true, we’re not talking about the same Renjun.” The Renjun you know doing all that stuff? Please… it sounds like something straight out of a book.

“His name is Huang Renjun, right?” Jaemin’s head tilts to the side. You nod. “Then, it’s him.” You gawk at your friend, “I’m sorry, it’s just… hard to believe that Renjun—the same guy who acts like some douche to total strangers—has done all of that.” It’s hard to picture it all, but it explains why Renjun decided to take up the daycare gig. It was all adding up now, but you’re not letting the realization settle that easily. “It was hard for me to believe it, too, especially with what you’ve told us about him.” Jaemin uses his arm to prop his head up, “But, I trust Jeno. There’s no reason for him to make all of that up.” Jaemin has a point. You don’t know who this ‘Jeno’ is, but there really would be no use in making this up.

“You’re not making this up, are you?” You ask Jaemin. It’s still seriously hard to believe that all of this information was plausible. It’s as if Renjun, who you always viewed in a bad light, was now picked up and dropped under a new light. One in which you couldn’t even pinpoint if it were good or bad. Curiosity was getting ahead of you and you didn’t like it.

He shakes his head, “Why would I? Ask Renjun if you really don’t believe me.”

“No thanks…” You shake your head, “There’s no way I’m going to ask him about anything. Especially not that.”

“Suit yourself,” Jaemin pulls his laptop back to its previous position, “Anyways, I need to get back to writing this paper.”

With Yeji turning back to her own work, you’re left alone with your thoughts and the newfound idea of Renjun actually being… nice. It coincided with your earlier idea of Renjun repping a smile instead of the seemingly permanent scowl on his face. No, you weren’t suddenly switching up with how you felt with Renjun because, despite the fact that there is this huge possibility that he spends his free time doing generous deeds, it didn’t automatically dismiss the way he’s been treating you. You guess it was just nice knowing that this sort of mini-hell you’ve been going through because of Renjun can finally be put to a stop.

°•. ✿ .•°

“For Renjun?”

Renjun looks up from his phone before making his way to the counter. He quickly stuffs his phone into his pocket and grabs the drink he’s been craving for the past few days, “Thank you.”

“Have good one!”

“You as well.”

Renjun makes his way out of the cafe, cold drink in hand. At the back of his head, he wonders where Donghyuck is, because according to the time, his class should have been finished ten minutes ago and he still hasn’t texted. That wasn’t like Donghyuck at all. Usually, he would be bombarding the boy with spam texts asking where he was even though he already knew where Renjun would be waiting.

Even with that thought, Renjun shrugs it off, knowing that Donghyuck would find his way to him somehow. He decides to sit down at a nearby table, placing his bag on the chair next to him before fishing his phone back out of his pocket.

As Renjun finally decides to take a sip out of his drink, his mind frustratingly wanders back to that one shift when you’d bought him the drink without his knowledge. He still doesn’t know how you managed to get him his usual, especially since he’s aware he’s never told you it.

He rakes through the depths of his brain to recall when you could have seen him with the drink. The one time you bumped into each other at this Starbucks, it was Donghyuck’s drink he was getting, so there was no way you saw it there. The one or two interactions after that, he doesn’t remember having a drink in hand.

Then he remembers. The day before the first shift.

How the hell could you have remembered that? Were you that attentive?

Why am I thinking so hard about a damn drink?

Maybe it was because the stupid drink was the reason why Renjun’s been feeling a pang of guilt everytime he’s with you. It took that one small random act of kindness to draw Renjun’s attention to the fact he was the one who often started the arguments and bickering between the two of you and you simply just returned his attitude.

“Hey!” Suddenly, a body leaps out from behind him, almost weighing both Renjun and the other person down. It takes a moment for Renjun to realize who it was. He doesn’t even need to turn around to look. In fact, he’s not even startled by what Donghyuck had hoped was a jumpscare.

“What’s up?” Renjun questions, “What took you so long?”

Donghyuck shrugs and plops into the chair in front of Renjun, “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” Renjun retorts. He takes another sip out of his drink and tries to act it off.

Donghyuck shakes his head, “You’re thinking about something. I know because your eye is twitching.” He brings his finger way too close to Renjun’s eye, “I can see it. Now you have to tell me.”

Renjun gives Donghyuck a look before glancing back down at the iced matcha latte sitting right in front of him. Sure, Donghyuck knows of you, but he doesn’t know of the interactions between the two of you. Renjun just doesn’t see the importance of telling Donghyuck these things. But maybe telling someone will get Renjun’s gears turning.

So Renjun tells Donghyuck. From the coffee encounters, to the gig, the rough drafts, the drink, and painting. He makes sure not to miss a detail, trying to avoid sounding biased. He wants to know what Donghyuck’s going to say about this situation and he knows that sounding biased wouldn’t grant answers that fit with the situation.

“It’s the fact that she still found the will to do something nice for me even though I’ve been a literal ass to her,” Renjun taps his index finger against the lid of his drink, “It’s not even that big of a deal but it’s been bugging me.”

Donghyuck sits in silence for a few moments, trying to muster up the perfect thing to tell his friend. “I really don’t know what else to tell you except that you’re stubborn as hell.”

Renjun’s taken aback, “What?”

“Sure, she probably felt bad for making you do the grid thingy on your own, but you’re right. You have been an ass,” Donghyuck bluntly continues.

“So everything that’s lead up until now… it’s my fault?”

“Well, not completely,” Donghyuck points out, “Both of you guys seem to want to spite each other. Plus, you both seem really stubborn, which, adding both of those together, equals a shit show. But, if I were being honest, you started the whole hating each other thing. I feel like if you were nice to her, then she’d be even nicer to you. A bigger person move would be to apologize and be nice.”

It’s once in a blue moon that Donghyuck’s words made sense. Renjun thinks it through—if he were to apologize, or start being nice to you, how would you even react? Wouldn’t it be odd for him to just switch up like that?

Renjun sighs. He feels like ripping his hair out. Maybe he won’t apologize just yet, not when his feelings are foggy. And maybe he won’t actively do nice things, only until he finally senses you wouldn’t react weirdly. He’ll just stop trying to spite you.

“You’re right,” Renjun nods. Donghyuck grins proudly at his friend.

Maybe that’ll do it.

At least he hopes it will.

SIX.

Painting day… five? Six? You’ve lost count if you were being entirely honest.

But it’s not that it mattered.

What mattered was the extremely ironic fact that you had somehow forgotten your earphones at your bedside table when you made it your number one priority on days like these in order to avoid any sort of conversation (or argument) with Renjun. But then again, there was probably a reason why the world had the audacity to pull such a thing.

Since that day at the library, you had not been able to kick the thought of Renjun doing angelic things during his free time when he’s literally been the human embodiment of bird poop on a windshield to you. The curious part of you was itching to ask him about it, see if the way he spoke about it would bring out that hidden angel in him. But when you continue to think about it, you weren’t sure if you would be overstepping some type of imaginary boundary that the both of you had mutually set up. Was there even a right time to ask him about it all? You can’t imagine a time where you and Renjun would even be close enough to have a conversation with the topic. Even now, just physically, Renjun still chooses to paint near the other end of the mural.

Well, as far as progress took him.

“You know if you painted as much as you’ve been staring at me, we’d be done this mural.” Renjun’s voice knocks you back into reality and it’s only then that you realize that you’re blatantly looking at him.

Feeling a rush of heat run through your cheeks, you look away, “Sorry.” You quickly look away and try to make yourself busy with the area you were painting at, brushing the paintbrush despite already having painted that part.

“There’s no paint on your brush,” Renjun points out. He wants to laugh but he tells himself not to because it isn’t ‘on brand.’ Pshh… as if that mattered… but it did to him.

“Oh… oh right,” you laugh awkwardly and dip the paint into the closest colour, bringing it up with no thought.

“And that’s the wrong colour,” Renjun points out again.

You look over at the mural and see that you’ve painted an entirely different colour on top of another colour. You gasp and put the brush down, “I’ll just… repaint it.”

There’s silence as you hurry to clean your brush, using a dirty rag to wipe off the wrong paint so that the remaining remnants of it can dry out quicker. You don’t notice Renjun side-eyeing you, contemplating whether he should say something about the constant mistakes you just made. But then he remembers what Donghyuck told him.

“Are you okay?”

You’re thrown off from the words that just left Renjun’s mouth. You almost snap your neck when you turn to look at him, eyes wide, “Huh?”

He isn’t looking at you, instead keeping his attention steady on what he’s painting, “Are you okay? You seem distracted.”

He’s an empath too? Wait, is that even how an empath is?

“Anyone can see you’re thinking about something.”

And a mind reader?

You are very much close to panicking, blinking at Renjun with no words to say. You’re contemplating whether this was the right time to tell Renjun what you know about him and ask him about it. “It’s nothing, it’s just…”

Renjun turns to look at you for half a second, then turns back to the wall. It’s like he was prompting you to say whatever you were wanting to say.

“I was just curious,” You start, “I heard that you volunteered at the retirement home near campus?” There was no other way to put it. You hope that you don’t sound creepy, as if you’ve been stalking him recently.

“Hmm?” This gets Renjun hooked, “Where did you hear that?”

“Jaemin told me.”

“Ah~ Jeno’s friend,” Renjun replies. Although the conversation has, so far, been awkward, you subconsciously knew it was an improvement from the bickering you both did. It was more civil, and you were actually glad it's taken a turn towards that direction. “What about it?” Renjun holds back the attitude that otherwise would have been evident if he weren’t trying to be nice to you.

You shrug and tighten your lips toward one side of your face, “Like I said. I was just curious.”

Renjun tries not to take anything of what you said, turning back to his painting.

Then you quickly add, “Do you have–uh–any stories?”

Renjun looks at you again and he can feel his interest in this conversation rising. He’s had many stories that he wants to share with his friends, but when he does share them, he’s left with the realization that no one’s listening. “I have a few actually.”

“Can I hear one?” You asked, “Sorry…. I have a soft spot for the elderly… you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Renjun shakes his head, “I’d love to, actually.” You begin to paint once again, this time properly, while you wait for Renjun to begin his story.

“My favourite story since I’ve started volunteering at the retirement home is probably when someone had the genius idea to play hide ‘n seek with the active elders.” Renjun snorts at the memory. A small smile rises up onto his face, but you don’t notice. He continues, “I was the seeker, which wasn’t a good idea since I was new and I wasn’t really familiar with any of the residents there, but I thought it would fun, so I still agreed.

I counted to fifty, and there were rules where they were allowed to go and everything. Just on the main floor, and I remember the activities director made it clear that they were only allowed on the first floor. So when I went to look for them, I found all of them pretty quickly, except one.”

“Don’t tell me he… you know…”

“No he didn’t die!” Renjun gives you a look, “Why in the world would that be my favourite story?”

You shrug, “I mean, you seem like the kind of person to.”

Renjun lets this comment slide and continues, “I looked for him for almost an entire hour. One entire hour. It got to the point where a lot of the other volunteers dropped what they were doing and helped out. I was actually panicking because where else could an old man be in a building that wasn’t too big. Then the phone rang and the desk lady answered it, all she heard was snickering and I knew right then and there that it was that man. He was playing us.”

You couldn’t help but laugh quietly, “Wait, so where was he?”

“We gave up looking. We knew he’d come out sooner or later. It was just enough for us that he was alive,” Renjun retorts, “RIght before my shift ended, the same man walks in through the door with a whole box of beer in one hand and ice cream in the other.” Renjun’s laughing now and the sound takes you by surprise. It was probably the first time you’re hearing him laugh.

You begin laughing along, “That sounds straight out of a movie! How the hell did he get out unnoticed?”

Renjun shrugs, “Beats me. But I like to think that as my favourite story because he fooled us all. And no one knows what he did in those hours he was gone.”

“I get why it’s your favourite.” You can tell just by the way Renjun told his story that he enjoyed these things. You’d think that, because the old man caused so much chaos, he would not deem that as his favourite moment, but you were wrong.

“Yeah,” he nods, “Then a close second would be the times they ask me to sing them their favourite songs. You can really see how playing something as simple as here comes the sun affects their day.”

It didn’t occur to you, at first, that Renjun just indirectly told you that he can sing—though you weren’t sure if he was good or not—but you were still dumbfounded, “You sing?”

“Sometimes,” he hums, “But it’s really nothing. Old people are impressed by anything.” Renjun puts the paintbrush down and flicks his wrist up to check the time, “Anyways, time’s almost up. We should start cleaning up.”

And you both do. You both go through your usual cleaning routine before dragging all everything back into the daycare’s small closet. Once you were both were ready to leave, you go your separate ways, saying goodbye each other with small, subtle waves.

And you know what was funny about all of this?

For the first time ever since you both met, there was zero negative intent behind any of your guys’ thoughts and actions.

SEVEN.

One new thing that you’ve learned from Renjun was that he was a pretty good storyteller, and alongside that, he had lots of stories to tell.

Wait that’s two things.

Nevermind that… The last two shifts of painting were pleasingly occupied with Renjun going on and on about his experiences at his volunteering opportunities. He jumped from talking about dogs giving birth to dressing up as an elf for an event at the children’s hospital—it’s like he’s lived so many lives in one.

A small part of you was jealous of the fact that he was able to experience all of this in such a small amount of time, but hearing these stories through him made up for that pint of jealousy. After one of his stories, Renjun had stopped what he was doing and turned to you, “Do you have any stories?”

You were slightly taken aback by the question, “Me?” It was a genuine question.

He nodded before putting down some strokes of paint, “Yeah. Do you have any stories?” There’s a tone in his voice that told you that he was being serious. He wasn’t being the Renjun that you’ve grown to know the past few weeks—but then again, maybe that Renjun wasn’t who Renjun really was.

“Not really,” you replied, “But don’t worry about me.”

“It doesn’t need to be like my stories,” he pointed out, “Just a story.” Renjun gave you time to think of a story, providing some prompts for you so that you were able to come up with one on the spot.

“How about a time when you thought you were actually done for?”

At that, you feel a memory surface from your first year of university when you, Yeji, and Jaemin were caught underage drinking in Jaemin’s dorm by the RA, so you told him the story. How you all were completely drained from your first set of midterms and how drugs weren’t the best resort. So why not drink? You remember Jaemin had gotten a bottle or two of soju from his friend from a frat and he’s been keeping it for ‘times like these.’ In the middle of the small binge, someone knocked on the door, and you remember Jaemin saying he was expecting somebody and was stupid enough to not actually look out the peephole before opening the door.

“And guess who it was?” you questioned.

“Ummm,” Renjun lined one of the pictures, “His friend?”

“Nope,” you shook your head, “It was an RA. Out of all the people. It really had to be an RA. We were caught and he threatened to tell a higher-up, I’m not sure who.” Though it wasn’t that much of a problem, you remember your seventeen-year-old self feeling fear that was probably harnessed from tens of people. You were scared—no—you were horrified. It hadn’t even been two full months into the semester and you’re already in trouble.. “You should’ve seen how me and Yeji were begging for forgiveness. It was probably the deepest bow I’ve ever bowed.”

“What happened, then?”

“Right in the middle of our apologies, the RA and Jaemin started laughing like maniacs,” you recalled, “Yeji and I looked up and they were laughing at us.” You click your tongue against your teeth, “That motherfucker Jaemin pranked us. The RA wasn’t an actual RA.”

Renjun bursted out into laughter, “Are you serious?”

You brought yourself to laugh, “Yes. I was so close to ending my friendship with Jaemin. But he treated us to food the next week so… It’s kind of a stupid story but I can still remember how I felt when it happened.”

“No, I get it,” Renjun replies. He stands back from the mural to look at you, “Especially knowing how seriously they act on underage drinking, that must’ve been scary.”

“Yeah, I think that’s mainly why Yeji and I were freaking out,” you nod. Realizing that you’ve finally finished the section you’ve been working on for the afternoon, you put the paintbrush down and pick up a rag.

“Are you done for today?” Renjun questions. You look over at him and he’s still putting down strokes of paints, “What time is it?”

You’re still trying to get used to you and Renjun getting along despite it being a good two weeks since you both had chosen to become civil with each other. But at the same time, it felt like weight was being taken off of your shoulders. It wasn’t like Renjun was a burden, but every time you had a shift at the daycare, you never really had the motivation to go because of him.

But it was different now.

“There’s still like fifteen minutes before shift ends,” you say, glancing at your phone, “Wanna start cleaning?”

Renjun nods, “Let me just finish this and I’ll be right behind you.”

°•. ✿ .•°

“Afternoon, Joy,” Renjun enters the daycare with a gentle smile, “How’s your day been?”

Joy grins from behind her computer, “Great, I guess. Yours?”

“Not bad.” Joy nods in response, “I’m sorry, I should have said this sooner, but today’s shift has been moved last minute.” She moves her rolling chair to the side so that she’s able to give Renjun all her attention.

Renjun frowns, “Why’s that?” He’s not sure if he could even think of a reason why a shift could be cancelled and moved, “Have you told Y/N?”

“Forecast says there’s going to be heavy rain today, so I think it would be better not to put new paint on the mural in case it gets washed off easily,” Joy states. At the end of her explanation, you enter the building with a quick greeting, situating yourself next to Renjun.

“But isn’t the rain for tonight? That seems to be enough for the paint to dry.”

“What’s going on?” You asked obliviously.

Renjun nods, “Our shift’s cancelled for today because of the rain.”

“Yes, but it’s better safe than sorry,” Joy sighs, “But you guys can go and have a rest day for today. I’ll see you both in a few days!”

Without another word, Joy swings herself back to her computer and you and Renjun leave the building slightly confused. The sky looked perfectly normal on the way here. The air was still. There was no sign of a storm happening tonight. But Joy’s statements were confirmed when you pulled out your handy-dandy cellphone and tapped at the weather app.

“She’s right,” you hold the phone for Renjun to look and he simply nods, “I guess I’ll see you next shift?” Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you wait for Renjun’s response. He nods.

“Yeah, I will.” Then you and Renjun begin walking down the same direction. You both hesitate before taking another step, giving each other a look. “Where are you going?”

“My dorm room.” “Oh, me too,” Renjun laughs awkwardly, “Uh… wanna walk together then?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” you joke as you begin walking. Renjun follows shortly, keeping a good distance between you both. He chooses to walk your pace, keeping his eyes trained on the pavement in front of him. Although he feels like it should be awkward, there’s a comfortable silence between the both of you.

It’s when the air starts feeling more humid than earlier that Renjun notices that it has started raining. At first, he didn’t mind it. The way the rain fell onto his head softly tickled him, but he liked it. It felt like soft kisses, if that even made sense. He looks over at you and he notices that you’re not bothered by the rain either.

“It’s like Joy has superpowers,” you say, “One second, the sky’s blue, now it’s raining.” You only hope that the rain doesn’t get worse than now. Your dorm room is still a bit of a walk away and you’re not in the mood to get drenched.

Renjun nods, “Next thing we know, it’s pouring.”

And as if someone had snapped their fingers, the rain gets heavier, pelting you and Renjun from above. The raindrops completely contrast how they just were, thick and feeling like punches instead of the shower of kisses. You gasp and slip your bag off, bringing it into your arms to protect your expensive belongings inside.

“What the hell!?” You say over the loud pitter patters of the droplets. You don’t know why you’re frozen in place. Perhaps it was the rush of cold water washing over you.

Renjun thinks differently, opting to make a break for it. He glances over at you in near panic, noticing immediately that you’re not moving at all. Then, without thinking, Renjun takes no longer than a second to pull you along with him, sprinting down the narrowing pathway as it leads to the nearest building. He swings the door open, careful not to hit you in the process. When he takes out a key identical to yours, you realize then that this was his dorm building, “I think you should stay in my dorm while you wait it out. You might get sick.” You hesitate and think this situation through. Going to Renjun’s dorm? Were you even that close? What if–

“If you’re thinking about what I think you’re thinking, no I’m not,” Renjun grumbles, “Let’s go.” He waves you in and you’re led to impulsively deciding that, yes, you will accept his offer. And it’s mostly because you don’t want to be drenched in the rain, nor do you want to stand in this hot vestibule for however long the rain will last.

“I hope the dorm isn’t messy, but it’s mostly my roommate who’s messy.” It sounds like Renjun’s speaking to himself but you know he’s trying to warn you. He’s walking a few strides in front of you, looking back subtly to make sure you’re actually following him down the hall.

Soon, you find yourself walking through Renjun’s front door, greeted with a waft of some kind of candle scent. You can’t really pinpoint the smell to its exact fragrance, but you can describe it as homey–something warm and welcoming.

“Lonjoon!” A voice exclaims from the small couch, “You’re ho– oh, hello?”

You recognize the boy who stands up from the couch as Donghyuck, both from the times you’ve encountered Renjun and from Jaemin. You wave awkwardly, “Sorry for intruding.”

Renjun speaks up, “Y/N’s dorm building is by the edge of campus and it’s pouring outside. I offered for her to stay here while we wait for it to stop.”

“I don’t mind,” Donghyuck grins, “Hmm, so you’re Y/N? I’ve heard a bunch of things about you from Renjun! I’m Donghyuck.”

Your brow cocks and you give Renjun, who’s sliding his shoes off and fixing them to the side, a look before turning back to Donghyuck, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he says, “You’re just as pretty as Renjun sa–”

Renjun throws his damp hoodie at Donghyuck’s face with the goal of shutting him up, “How about you go to your room and we take the living room?” Renjun approaches his best friend, holding him by his shoulders before pushing him in the direction of one of the rooms. It’s funny simply because he doesn’t even wait for him to reply.

Once he has gotten rid of Donghyuck, Renjun turns on his toes to face you, “Sorry, that’s just how he is… don’t listen to him, he makes stuff up all the time.” And although Renjun’s actually telling the truth—because no, he’s never called you pretty in front Donghyuck—he knows Donghyuck’s comments are believable to those who aren’t used to his shenanigans.

There were two ways you could go about it. Ignore him and make the situation less awkward, or tease him and see what he says. Either choice would be funny, especially because you could see that this boy is on edge with what his friend just said. But since you’re feeling nice, you choose the former option, “So, what do you plan on doing while we wait for the rain?”

Renjun quietly sighs in relief, “We can put something on to watch? I’m just not sure what we should watch though.” He makes his way to the couch and he gestures you to sit in the spot next to him.

It’s crazy how your mind works in times like these. At the back of your head, you almost make sure to keep an array of movies to watch, ones that you’re sure everyone would be content with. But with Renjun, one movie hovers above the others because you could still recall your astonishment when this whole adult man hadn’t seen the one movie you adore with your heart.

“How about the Pursuit of Happyness?” you say, “You haven’t seen it… so why not now?”

Renjun nods, “Yeah, sure. That sounds good to me.” Within a few clicks of the remote, the movie begins and Renjun’s offering you some snacks he managed to pull from the kitchen (or that have already been there, courtesy of Donghyuck). The rain outside is still going at it, but the movie masks the sound of the raindrops striking repeatedly against the windows.

Renjun’s incredibly entangled in the film. You can easily catch this in the way his eyes were steady on the screen as he leans towards it. He mutters comments every now and then, ones that complement your own thoughts of the film.

“It’s… it’s just going downhill,” Renjun frowns. His eyes finally leave the screen about half way through the movie, “I can’t believe you’re making me watch this. If it has a bad ending, I’m holding you against the emotional damage I’ll be experiencing.”

“I mean you did agree to watch it,” you point out. Biting your lip, you hold a laugh back despite the movie not even being comedic. It’s Renjun and his current state that’s making you laugh. It’s new territory for you, if that was even the right way to describe it.

So far, you’ve only met the stubborn and spiteful Renjun, and most recently, the generous and compassionate Renjun. His actual character, you’ve learned, sits in the middle of both of those. But the one you’re watching this movie with was different. He was vulnerable, ready to cry whenever the movie finally pushes past his breaking point. But you’re glad to see that he isn’t afraid to show it to you, especially since you both were still just starting this odd friendship.

“What the fuck. I can’t do this shit. What the hell?” You snap out of your mini trance and you realize why a string of profanities are leaving Renjun’s mouth. It was the very scene that had you bawling like a baby the first time you watched it, and tearing up now. The scene at the subway station.

You let Renjun watch it, keeping silent as you pay attention to the screen, too. You could feel your heart ache, the scene grasping it, as your mouth grew into a frown.

In a hushed tone, Renjun questions out loud, “Please tell me that this is the worst it gets?” Looking over at Renjun, you notice that he’s actually crying. There were tears streaming down his face and he’s sniffling like he’s caught the annual flu.

“I don’t want to spoil it,” you retort, sniffling yourself. Looking around, you spot a tissue box sitting at the centre of the coffee table in front of both of you. You reach for it, holding it out to Renjun.

“Thanks,” he sniffles. Once Renjun’s finished blowing his nose, he falls silent again, attention all on the movie. He’s so attentive that you know thoughts are running through his head at an unreadable pace.

Next thing you know, the movie’s end credits are rolling and Renjun flops into the couch’s cushion, “I get why you were surprised when I said I haven’t seen that movie.” He turns his head to face you, “Because that was a good movie.”

The way Renjun’s looking at you causes you to shrink under his gaze, though it wasn’t in a way where you were cowering. You felt… shy? There wasn’t a word that was coming up that described it precisely, but shy was alarmingly close. “I’m glad you liked it.” He stretches his lips into some form of lazy grin. There’s a very brief silence between you both but it was enough for you to recognize that the rain had stopped, or at least, it had gotten weaker over the past few hours.

“Oh the rain’s stopped,” you say quickly, “I guess I’ll get going then.” Within seconds, you’re up and grabbing your belongings. Then, you’re at the door, slipping your sneakers on thoughtlessly. At that point, you’re aware that it’s almost dinner time and the sun’s probably setting if you could see past the clouds.

Renjun follows you to the door, “It looks dark out, do you want me to walk with you?”

If your life were a reality TV show, this would be when the camera unsteadily zooms into your face as it simultaneously changes expressions into one that’s a mix of confusion and shock. “No, it’s fine, there’s probably some people walking from class.” The door’s open behind you and you’re ready to sprint out. But Renjun stops you.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he grins, “I’ll see you around.”

“Goodnight, Renjun.”

Renjun waves and shuts the door. He lets out a huff before turning around to find Donghyuck standing there with the most irritating smirk sitting on his face.

“What?”

Donghyuck gasps, “Nothing!”

Renjun pushes past him to turn the TV off before going to fold the blanket he was previously using, “Then don’t make that face if you don’t have a reason.”

Donghyuck snickers and shakes his head in a way that only irked Renjun even more. He chooses not to say anything else because he knows that Renjun’s mind works fast enough to work two and two together.

That’s how it usually works, at least.

EIGHT.

Routines are meant to be routines.

Every shift you and Renjun were supposed to arrive, bring the supplies you needed to the wall, paint, realize that it’s time to clean up, and then leave. While you both painted, Renjun’s role was to tell one of his many experiences and your usual role was to listen. If not, comfortable silence or music will often fill that silence.

But today was different.

You and Renjun were finally painting the second layer of the mural, and although it initially wasn’t necessary, the second layer of paint gave the painting a bolder look. So you both went for it.

The day was going as it usually would. Renjun had finished a more recent story from the old folks’ home, going on about how he’s excited for Thursday. “Throwback Thursday. We play music and shows and films from their times. Even if they already do that anyway, it’s a bit more special because practically all the residents attend.”

“That actually sounds like a lot of fun,” you say genuinely, “I can’t imagine the nostalgia they go through.” You squat down and dip the paintbrush into the paint.

“How about you come with me, then?” Renjun offers, “Are you busy on Thursday?” He stands and waits for your reply, watching as you freeze suddenly at his question. You only freeze because this isn’t how it usually was. He’s supposed to say something like ‘it is fun’ or go on to tell you a story about a previous throwback Thursday. But asking you to come with him?

“Me?” You verbalize, “Come with you?”

“Yeah!” Renjun nods, “They love getting all the help they can get.” He carelessly strokes the brush against the wall and watches as the concrete completely disappears underneath the paint. “And it would be cool for you to be there. That way we can share one of these stories.”

“Um…” You don’t like using agendas, but right now would have been the right time to have one. “I’m not sure, actually. I’ll let you know before then, though. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Day of is fine, too.”

The minute you get home, you feel a strong urge to tell Yeji about the invitation. But knowing Yeji, you know damn well she’s going to convince you to go.

You guess correctly when she peeks over her laptop and over at you after you’re brief ramble about it. “Didn’t you say that you and Renjun were on better terms now?” You nodded. “Well, I think there wouldn’t be any harm in going. Imagine how horrible you’d look if you rejected that opportunity.”

“Renjun would understand,” you say quietly.

“Well, do you want to go?” Yeji questioned.

You blink at your best friend, “It’s not that I don’t want to go. It’s just…” You pause and try to think about why you’re stressing about something that wasn’t even that big of a deal. Renjun literally just invited you to volunteer. It’s not like he asked you on a date (and why would he?). It was just the idea of him actually asking you to spend time with him outside of that gig that made you stop and think.

“There’s your answer.”

“Huh?” your head tilts to the side, “Answer? Where?”

Yeji snorts and turns her attention back to her laptop, “You just said ‘it’s not that I don’t want to go.’ That implies that you do wanna go. Then go.”

With a little bit more pushing from Yeji, you find yourself standing in front of Renjun’s dorm building that very Thursday with a tote bag and your head filled with thoughts that you couldn’t even comprehend. If you focused hard enough, you could pick out ones about what today’s dinner will be, how the residents were like outside of Renjun’s stories, and what the retirement home looked like. There were traces of what remaining tasks you needed done for the mural and if you’ve somehow left assignments unfinished. Then there were ones of Renjun and–

“Sorry for making you wait.” You jump and find Renjun appear in your field of vision. He’s fixing his crossbody bag over his shoulder, then you watch has he fixes the cap on his head, “I’m excited! Let’s go then?”

You and Renjun make small talk on the way to the retirement, which you admit, thought would be further away. But when Renjun told you that it was just a walking distance from campus, he wasn’t lying. The walk only lasted about ten minutes and the next thing you know, you’re telling the lady at the front desk your name.

“Alright, here’s your volunteer badge,” she slides you a laminated tag, “And here’s yours, Renjun!” You follow Renjun, who pins his own name tag to the left side of his chest. He pats it before saying goodbye to the lady, turning to you to see if you were set to go in.

Renjun leads the way into the main lounge area. It was a rather large room, one wall being entirely windows. By the front, or what you believed was the front, was a big fireplace, and by that fireplace, a small grand piano. On top of the fireplace was a big TV that was currently playing the news, not that anyone was paying attention.

Scattered throughout the room sat tables and padded chairs, some of which were occupied by residents. It was almost exactly how you imagined it, almost book-like, or ones you’d see in movies. It was cozy, yet not too cozy for it to be suffocating.

“Oh, Renjun, you’re here!” A slightly older guy seems to appear from the side, waving, “And you must be Y/N? Renjun told us you might be joining. Nice to see you actually did!” He sticks a hand out and grins, “I’m Taeyong. I coordinate a majority of the activities for the facility.”

You shake his hand, “Nice to meet you, Taeyong. I’m a little nervous.”

Taeyong shakes his head, “Don’t be! Everyone’s pretty nice here, especially in the afternoon.” He lets out a quiet laugh, “Well anyways, we just called down the other residents so we’re just waiting for them to come. Then we start exactly at five.”

Taeyong turns to Renjun, “You’re taking over for music right?” Renjun nods and cracks his fingers as if he’s about to go step into a boxing ring.

“I usually take the role as emcee, but I was told I had other duties to go about for the next hour,” Taeyong says carefully, “Y/N, would you mind being the emcee? I promise you it’s not that bad. I even have cue cards if you need it.” Taeyong holds out a small pile of flashcards, holding them out to you.

Renjun lights up at the idea, “It would be fun if you did it! All you have to do is prompt the songs and the residents will raise their hands. Then you go up to them and hold up the mic to their mouths for their answer. Sorta like a game show host.”

“I guess I can try,” you say carefully. What was the worse that could happen?

“Great!” Taeyong claps his hands together, “Thank you so much, Y/N. I appreciate it!” He hands you the cue cards and goes to leave, “Have fun guys!”

Once Taeyong was gone, Renjun turns to you, “I know it’s a heavy job but don’t be afraid to step out of your comfort zone. I promise you, the old folks have gone through a lot, so slip-ups won’t matter to them at all.”

You nodded, “I hope so. You better help me up there if something goes wrong.” You give him a look of warning, though it was playful and meant well. Renjun knew how Throwback Thursdays worked—this was your first one—so you don’t really have a feel of how it should be brought out.

“I will, don’t worry,” Renjun ensures, “How bout this. I’ll do the introduction and then you go from there. That way, you’re not super lost.”

“That would help,” you grin.

Soon, little by little, the residents begin filling the room, taking seats at what you understood as their usual seats. They chattered amongst themselves, having conversations that mostly consisted of today’s weather or the news that was playing on the TV. From a nearby table, you overhear two ladies lightheartedly trash-talking each other, arguing over who would get the most correct songs for this week’s Throwback Thursday.

You can’t help but laugh at the bickering. Renjun notices this and smiles to himself. He’s glad you’re enjoying it so far. “There’s a leaderboard, if you’re wondering why they’re so serious about this,” Renjun points out, “Well not really an official one, but they keep track of it themselves. I don’t even know how but they do.”

“That explains it,” you laugh, “I think it’s cute.”

Renjun nods, “It is. They remind me of kids sometimes. They get happy over the smallest things. I admire it.”

This comment makes your heart do a ball change—two quick beats before settling back into its normal rhythm. It was just endearing seeing Renjun be all soft around what he loves doing. It only hits much harder when this wasn’t the Renjun you initially knew.

First impressions were not always the best impressions.

“I think we can start with the intro,” Renjun nudges your elbow. He starts making his way to the front of the room. You trail right behind him, respectfully greeting the residents as you make eye contact with them. They obviously weren’t familiar with you, but they still smiled nonetheless.

Renjun grabs the mic, turning it on before giving it a light tap to test it, “Good afternoon everyone! Can you all hear me?” You see some of the residents nod, others verbally responding with the loudest whoop they can let out. “Perfect! How’s everyone doing this afternoon?” There’s a chorus of different answers, but you can tell that they all were content with their day.

“I’m happy to hear that! Welcome to this week’s Throwback Thursday! I think you’re all familiar with me, my name is Renjun!” Renjun turns to you, and gestures, “Today, I have my partner Y/N with me to help out! Can we give her a warm welcome?” Similar to earlier, they enter a chorus of replies, greeting you with waves and smiles. This made you feel much more comfortable.

“Okay! So you know how all this works, I play a song on the piano, and if you know it, raise your hand. I’ll trust Y/N’s judgment on who raised their hands first. She’ll come up to you all and then you can give her the answer! Everything clear?” Again, a chorus of replies. “Then let’s begin!”

Renjun hands the mic over to you, whispering a ‘have fun’ and a ‘you got this’ before sitting down behind the piano.

You look down at the cue cards given to you by Taeyong and find that it was the list of songs that Renjun was going to play for the night. There were about twenty songs listed down along with the artist. You felt a sense of relief wash over you.

“Hello everyone! Are you all ready for the first song?” you question. You still feel a bit nervous, but from how Renjun went through with the intro, you knew exactly how you want to host. The residents cheered and you can feel the anticipation. It was nice that they were all willing to participate. “Okay, this one is really easy, so get your hands ready! Renjun, cue the music!”

Renjun smiles and nods, placing his hands on the keys for the first song. He begins playing it effortlessly and you’re a bit taken aback by the way he was playing the song well—it was My Girl by The Temptations. Renjun had only played the intro when hands were already shooting up. Your eyes naturally fall on a man seated near the windows, glasses slipping to the tip of his nose.

You grin and quickly make your way over, “I believe you had your hand up first!” Your eyes find a last name on his walker, “Mr. Moon. What’s your answer?”

You bring the mic up near his lips and nod for him to answer. Before he speaks, he leans forward, “It is My Girl by The Temptations.”

Although you already knew the answer, you still look down at the flash cards, “My, my, my…” You pretend that the answer is wrong, frowning and letting your voice trail before switching up, “My Girl by The Temptations is correct! One point for Mr. Moon!”

You hear some of the other residents chuckle at your improvisation, clapping out of joy. You don’t notice as you walk back to the front, but Renjun’s smile grows wider.

“Next song!” You read it, and hum, “This one’s a few decades newer, but I know you all will know this one!” You turn to Renjun, quietly signalling for him to begin the song. You watch the residents as they wait for Renjun to start the song’s snippet. Again he plays the intro, an easy-to-recognize sequence bouncing across the room.

A different man raises his hand first, so you move across the room swiftly. This man doesn’t have a nametag, “Do you know the answer, sir?”

“Of course I do, I remember going to their concert back in the day!” He speaks through the mic. The people around you react, eyes widening.

“Oh, so you should very well know it, right?” You question, “Were you a fan of them?”

“A big, big fan,” the man uses his hands to speak, throwing his arms to gesture something large, “Good ‘ol days. But anyways, the answer is Open Arms by Journey. One of my favourites.”

“I guess you already know that the answer is correct!” you laugh, “Can’t argue with a fan. One point for you, sir!” He nods his head in pride before you turn to walk back to the front. At this point, you’re gaining more confidence despite it barely even starting. In a way, the interactions came naturally.

“The next song is one that might not come to you all easily since it’s a bit newer, but I guarantee that at least one of you will know it,” you say through the mic.

Renjun begins with the intro, and you’re familiar with the song because you’ve heard your parents play it plenty of times in the car growing up. So far, none of the residents had brought their hands up to answer. You’re actually quite surprised to see that no one was familiar with the song’s intro.

Renjun continues to play the song.

Then he begins to sing.

You remember when he had first told you about his time here at the retirement home and how he sang for the residents. You remember him completely dismissing the fact that he did sing for these people and after that, the subject wasn’t really brought up.

Now that you’re here and volunteering with him, you finally get a chance to hear him sing.

“Oceans apart… day after day… and I slowly go insane…”

What the fuck.

You almost say this out loud and through the mic in front of many many elderly people and you suddenly feel compelled to slap yourself.

Renjun’s voice was unexpected, but it was beautiful. You really didn’t have any idea of how his singing voice would sound but now that you’re hearing it, it perfectly matched his speaking voice. It was satin-like and captivating—a voice you could and you’d honestly like to listen to all day.

“How can we say forever?”

Your eyes drift to Renjun, who’s focused. His eyes are on the music sheets sitting in front of him. The expression on his face is calm and gentle, words of which could also describe his singing. You hope Renjun doesn’t notice that you’re looking at him, because if he did, it would be humiliating.

“Wherever you go, whatever you do, I will be right here waiting for you…”

Then your heart does this thing.

It was very similar to the little skip that it did earlier, but now, instead of falling back to the rhythm it usually followed, it only sped up in tempo.

What the fuck. You repeat to yourself. Your eyes widen before dropping to your feet in panic. Because it really shouldn’t be doing that. Not at this point in time.

“I raised my hand first!” One of the ladies knock you back into reality and you realize that a few people have had their hands raised. She was speaking to another woman sitting at the same table and you recognize them as the two women from earlier. You smile sheepishly, almost forgetting what your job is and opting to listen to Renjun and only Renjun for the rest of the game. You apologize, “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite notice. Can we play a small game of rock, paper, scissors to settle this fairly?”

They play the game as you make your way up to them. Once it was settled, you bring the mic up to the winner, the lady who claimed she raised her hand first. “What do you think the song title is?”

“Oh, I know what the song title is,” she chuckled, “Right Here Waiting by Richard Marx.”

“I love the confidence!” You say, laughing, “You are correct! One point for you, ma’am!” The woman cheered, ecstatic she got the point. Then, like before, you return to the front and you start at the beginning of the cycle for the next songs.

You try your best to keep yourself together, especially when the song’s difficulty requires Renjun to sing part of it. He had a voice to be proud of. You have no idea why he didn’t choose to brag about it. But maybe that’s just Renjun.

What’s ironic was the fact that Renjun was almost as charmed by you as you were with him. However, it wasn’t because of the way you sang, because if you were ever asked to sing, you’d warn them about temporarily losing the sense of hearing, but it was simply through the way you interacted with the residents. The best word Renjun could find to describe the way you spoke to them was genuine.

You genuinely seemed to enjoy speaking to them, making small talk throughout the game so that you kept them entertained. Renjun also concluded that you were actually a pretty witty person. Jokes and fitting comments were flying out of your mouth whenever you pleased, giving the residents a reason to laugh hearty laughs.

Though it really didn’t appear to be that big of a deal to anyone else, Renjun found it endearing. It was simply just a trait that he found worthy of adoring.

Renjun slumps behind the piano relieved that the instrument was helping him hide the smile that was uncontrollably growing upon his lips. And if you see him with that big, fat, doting smile, he wouldn’t know what to do.

At the end of the game and its conclusion, you actually find yourself feeling bummed that it was over. You stand at the side of the room, watching as the residents either take their leave or decide to stay in the lounge room a bit longer. You bow to the ones who cross your path, thanking them for being great participants.

“Will you be back next week?” a lady stops to talk to you, “You were refreshing to have. That young boy, Taeyong, follows the same script and it does get very tedious after a while.”

“I would love to, actually,” you say, frowning, “But I’m not sure if I will. Renjun invited me to join but I don’t know if this is just a one-time thing.”

“Oh, well,” she smiles sadly, “If you ever decide to return, you’re always welcome.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” you mirror her expression before she walks away.

In her place, another lady stops and reaches for your hand, “Thank you for a wonderful time!”

You shake your head, “It’s nothing, really. Renjun played a large part as well, I shouldn’t take all the credit.” Over her shoulder you see Renjun speaking to a few of the male residents.

“Oh! Speaking of that lovely boy, are you two together?” Her head tilts to the side in curiosity, “You two make quite a cute couple!”

Her comment makes you freeze in shock for a short moment. You and Renjun? A couple?

“Oh!” you shake your head, almost to the point where you could feel your head coming loose from the rest of your body, “We’re not dating! It’s nothing like that. It’s really the opposite! We only started being friends not too long ago!”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” she only picks up your last comment, “You ever go to connect a plug to a socket without looking?” You nod your head but she could tell that you’re confused. “You miss it a couple of times, making small adjustments so you can get that damn plug into the socket. Then, finally, right when you get it in, the electricity runs through it to serve its purpose.”

“I-I don’t understand what you’re saying, ma’am.”

“I’m saying that it doesn’t matter when you guys started ‘being friends,’” she laughs lightly, “If two pieces fit together, then that’s that. I know a match when I see one.”

And without another peep, the lady walks away, singing a tune under her breath.

NINE.

“Is this enough?” Renjun’s pouring paint into one of the paint trays at the bottom of the ladder.

You look down from the top of the ladder, “That looks like it, thank you.” You paint a few more strokes down before climbing back down to grab the newly filled tray. The goal for the day was to finish the second layer so that over the last few shifts, you and Renjun could focus on details and finishing touches. Judging by how much work was left, the two of you were probably going to end up working overtime. But none of you minded.

“You know, some of the residents were asking for you when I returned a few days ago?” Renjun watches as you pick up the tray. When your feet find their way onto the first step of the ladder, Renjun unconsciously steps forward to keep the ladder steady, “I think they really loved your company.” The corner of his mouth quirks upward at the recent memory of you and your interactions. Not one inch of his bone regretted inviting you.

“Really?” you light up, “I enjoyed their company, too.”

Renjun replies, “Yeah, really. I guess you made a really good impression on them.” Then Renjun makes a witty, lighthearted comment, “Unlike you did on me.”

You laugh and look down, “The feeling’s mutual.”

Out of interest, Renjun lets this burning question leave his lips, “Why did you hate me so much anyway?” Then he shakes his head, “I mean I understand why, but I wanna hear your side of the story.”

You take a seat on one of the middle stairs of the ladder and rest your head on your arm, “I guess… everytime we ran into each other, you weren’t exactly the nicest. I remember I apologized when I accidentally bumped into you that one morning before class and you made a comment about me not being able to afford your shirt or something even when I apologized.” “In fairness, it was before an eight AM and that shit was hot,” Renjun defends, “But you’re right. I could’ve handled it better.” He doesn’t even remember why he blew up that morning. But he does remember a feeling of remorse the moment he arrived in class and was able to reflect on what he just did.

“And that one time when I took Donghyucks’s drink,” you face palm because you don’t know how you even managed to do that, “You didn’t even say thank you when I gave you the drink when I could’ve taken it. Especially since it was you who had gone up to me.”

Renjun’s face heats up. He really was a whole douchebag to you. “I was in a hurry. But I could’ve handled that better, too.” Renjun pauses and drops his head to look at his feet, “I think my apologies are long overdue. But I really am sorry for both of those times. I don’t know… they were sorta both in the heat of the moment… but if I could go back, I’d treat you better. Maybe we could’ve gotten along faster.”

“You’re forgiven,” you reply seriously, swinging your legs, “Besides, it’s not like we haven’t made any progress.” You look up at the mural and remember how your relationship with Renjun had been when you both started it. It was almost the complete opposite. “I think I owe you an apology, too. It’s not like I’m completely innocent either.”

Renjun turns to go back to his spot, “You don’t even need to apologize. You were just treating me the way I was treating you.”

“Doesn’t make it okay,” you stand up and dip the paintbrush in paint.

“True, but still.” Renjun raises his head to look at you, “But I forgive you too. Even though I still don’t think you need to say sorry.”

You don’t say anything else. Instead, you playfully roll your eyes. Despite your reaction, you’re actually glad that you and Renjun were finally at that point where you could joke about about the past. Being able to openly share how you both felt, and just conversing about it proves that your relationship with him has shifted. It’s relieving.

“Hey Y/N?”

You look through the ladder and find Renjun staring up at you. His hair is falling back, fringe brushing past the corners of his eyes. He looks pretty. “Yeah?”

“It’s getting late,” he says, “Want to wrap up and get something to eat?”

You’re compelled to make a ‘like a date?’ comment, but you hold back. You and Renjun just made complete amends. You can’t be that bold just yet, “Sure. Where to?”

°•. ✿ .•°

A handful of bites and sips of pop later, you and Renjun are walking back from the closest fast-food restaurant from campus. The topic of conversation had been jumping from one to another, keeping the atmosphere comfortable and busy. Currently, it was about the pet peeves that came along with your roommates despite still loving them with all your heart.

“Sometimes,” Renjun sighs, “Donghyuck, he literally doesn’t wash the bottom of the cups cause he thinks that only water rinsing it is enough. He only scrubs the rim of the cup. Once, I was filling my cup with water and I see remnants of dried out coke floating from the bottom.”

You gasp and make a face, shaking your head, “That’s disgusting! Imagine if you didn’t see that. You’d just be ingesting dried coke.”

“He learned from that,” Renjun shrugs, “Cause even he experienced it. He always scrubs the bottom of the cups first now.”

“Good,” you retort, “Because I was going to tell you to remind me never to drink from a cup when I go over to your guys’ dorm.” Renjun laughs but he can’t help but interpret your comment in a way that could be considered overthinking. “For me, Yeji used to wash her clothes without putting them with like colours.”

“How is her wardrobe not fucked up?” Renjun sends you a look, “Especially her white clothing.”

You shrug, “Beats me. But that one time I caught her, I felt like her mom teaching her right from wrong. I have no idea how she’s never been told off in all her years of life.”

“I don’t know what’s worse, that, or Donghyuck’s old habit.” You shake your and head and look down. You wonder if Yeji had any pet peeves about you. What would they even be? You didn’t feel like you were doing anything pet-peeve-worthy. But then again, Yeji didn’t see anything wrong with mixing her clothing up.

When you see your dorm building growing in your field of vision, your eyes widen and you turn to Renjun, “We missed your building!” You stop in your tracks and try to do a one-eighty to go back to Renjun’s building. The two of you were so caught up in conversation that you missed it.

“No I did it on purpose,” Renjun shakes his head, “I wanted to walk you back.” A tickling sensation subtly appears and disappears in your stomach.

“You really didn’t have to!” you say shaking your hands as a way to deny his kind action, “The campus is safe anyways! I could have walked on my—”

“I know it is, but I wanted to,” he shrugs, “There’s a difference.” He’s right. There is a difference. Because it’s one thing to walk you home with some worry that you’d get into some form of accident, you know, to ensure your safety (which you understood as basic human decency), but it’s another to want to walk you home. Even with the knowledge that you’d be safe because there were other students probably walking the same way, he wanted to walk you home and it was probably because he wanted to spend more time with you.

You don’t know how to react to that implication.

He starts walking towards your building, hands stuffed into his sweater’s pockets. When he senses that you weren’t following, he turns back, “What are you doing?”

“Sorry,” you sigh, “I zoned out.”

You speed up to reach his side, trying to process whether or not you were overthinking or not. Before you know it, you’re at the doors of your building and you’re fishing your keys out of your pocket, “Thanks for walking me here, I guess.”

“You guess?” Renjun laughs softly.

“I mean like, it was unexp–”

“I’m joking,” Renjun rolls his eyes playfully, “I wanted to.” There it is again.

“Anyways, I’ll head in now,” you say, avoiding any awkward silences, “Goodnight.”

He grins, and you swear you see his eyes twinkle, “Goodnight.”

When you reach your dorms, Yeji’s standing at the entry way, arms crossed with a smirk, “I saw Mr. Renjun drop you off… care to explain?”

“What are you even doing staring out the window?” you glare at her and kick your shoes off. Walking past her, you tug your bag off your arm and plop it beside the couch, “And explain what? He just wanted to drop me off.”

“Key word is ‘wanted’,” Yeji walks up to you and digs her index finger into your shoulder, “I’m getting this psychic-netic sense that he’s starting to harbour feelings for you.” You want to laugh because Renjun? Feelings? For you? It’s laugh worthy. “No way. We just made up.”

“Yeah, but you both were all chill before today,” she rolls her eyes, “He’s probably starting to like you like you like him.”

“What are you even talking about?” You’re ready to escape this conversation. Mentally, you’re in a position that runners take when they’re about to begin a race, but in front of Yeji, you’re stiff as a rock, grounded and eyes wide as you react to what she just said. “Nothing,” she shrugs, “You didn’t deny it though.” Yeji cackles and makes her own great escape, sprinting into her room before shutting the door.

When Renjun finally gets home, he’s greeted with a bear hug from his own roommate.

“I thought you died or something!” Donghyuck yells, “Why are you home so late?”

“I had dinner with Y/N and walked her home?” Renjun’s confused. He leans forward and notices tears in Donghyuck’s eyes. He doesn’t know whether he should laugh or feel bad because he’s never seen his best friend in such a state, “Are you actually crying? Look I’m sorry, I actually forgot to update you.”

“Yes! I’m crying,” Donghyuck glares at Renjun, “It’s not like I splashed my face with water or anything.” Donghyuck wipes his ‘tears’ away and ‘sniffles’, “If I knew you had a date, I wouldn’t have sobbed my eyes out waiting for you to get home.”

“It wasn’t a date,” Renjun hurriedly denies, “It was just a friendly dinner.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Donghyuck waves off, “Friendly dinner my ass.”

“It was!” Renjun’s ready to jump Donghyuck, “We worked for a long time today and we also formally apologized to each other. It was fitting.”

“You know what?”

“No, I don’t know what.”

Donghuck clicks his tongue against his teeth, “You like her.”

“What even makes you say that?” There’s a bazillion things running through Renjun’s head, but none of those things were coming to a single conclusion that made sense with this conversation with Donghyuck.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, “The past few days, when you walk through that door from the gig or just being with Y/N, you have this sickening—but cute?—I don’t know… love-struck? Charmed?—Whatever you’d call it—look on your face and it’s painfully obvious that you’re starting to have feelings for her.”

Renjun gulps. He’s at a loss of words only because he’s never heard or seen Hyuck say something so serious in his life, “You’re lying.”

“No. I’m not. I can’t believe you haven’t realized it yourself when you’re usually more emotionally intelligent than me.”

Stunned, Renjun thinks it through.

Sure the word ‘love-struck’ doesn’t really describe what he’s feeling for you, only because he knows it hasn’t gone that far. He thinks back to the day it suddenly rained, when you both watched The Pursuit of Happyness and he let himself be vulnerable in front of you. Then to the day at the retirement home and seeing your interactions with the older adults. Those few times you were too immersed in painting to comprehend what was happening around you… Hell, he even thinks back to the time you had gotten him that damn Starbucks drink despite how horrible he treated you that day.

What did all these days have in common? Sure, all these days involved you and him, and progression in the relationship between the two of you. But the thing that persisted was how his chest warmed up in a way that was almost entirely unfamiliar to him. Shit, it has happened so many times that it has become familiar.

Renjun sighs and he looks at Donghyuck with a defeated look, “I think you’re right.”

“About?”

Renjun gets deja vu. He remembers the conversation he had long ago with Donghyuck about his attitude towards you. Never would he have thought that it would get this far.

“My feelings for Y/N.”

TEN.

It was the final stretch. The mural needed no more than final details and cleaning up before it was finished. And after this, you and Renjun would be finished the project.

You’re excited to see the mural in all its glory—no unfinished patches and pending layers. You can already taste the satisfaction, especially because both you and Renjun had worked your asses off finishing it.

But there was an elephant in the room.

It wasn’t a massive elephant, but it was there, sitting right in between you and Renjun and you didn’t know how to address it without him misinterpreting everything.

The elephant: What would become of the two of you after all of this has ended?

You look over at him with that lingering thought.

It was rather baffling because your relationship with him appeared to be nothing more than two co-workers—maybe a little bit more than that. No. That’s wrong. You guys were friends—at least that’s what you considered him. You could easily tell he considers you one of his, too, but you weren’t sure that you were at that point where you would speak to each other after all this is over.

You’d hate to see your relationship with him falter after everything.

You’re hoping Renjun’s feeling the same way, simply because he hasn’t said anything all shift. Just a mere ‘hi’ was all that slipped out his mouth towards you, and a soft ‘thank you’ when Joy had come out to congratulate you both for almost completing the project. Otherwise, he hasn’t done more than breathe and paint.

“You’re quiet,” you say playfully. You’re not sure if you were overstepping boundaries but you wouldn’t have said anything if you weren’t comfortable with Renjun.

The noise in Renjun’s head nearly blocks your voice out completely, but you’re lucky to have caught his attention. “Hm?”

You finish the details of your current part of the painting and move onto the next. It was one step closer to Renjun, “I said you’re quiet. Is something up?” It’s a good sign that Renjun wasn’t shooting any sort of remark your way, but you can tell he’s avoiding eye contact. You haven’t seen Renjun so out of it.

“No,” he replies, “No, I… I’m just thinking.” It was Renjun’s turn to finish an area. He takes a hesitant step closer to you to complete the details of a new area.

Dot. Dot. You use black paint to add details to a bear’s face. Its eyes. It looks a lot better than it did just moments ago. “Can I ask what about?”

Renjun pauses and thinks about his answer. You. He’s thinking about you. But he’s not sure if it would be odd for him to be honest and up-front. Renjun’s adding details to a toy car. Dot. Line. Dot. Dot. “Things. I’ll tell you when I get it sorted out.”

“You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to,” you say. You move on to a toy train. Line. Dot. Two lines. Although you’re still truthful about what you just said, you’re still curious about what Renjun was thinking about. Things was such a broad term. It could be about anything—dogs, the colour periwinkle, even his best friend Donghyuck. But you guess you’ll let him marinate those thoughts.

“I want to tell you,” he says gently, “They’re just all jumbled and shit.” The best way to describe his thoughts was like a box filled with stray wires. All of them have been thrown in carelessly and now they’re knotted into one messy ball. He can’t even follow one wire if he tried.

Now you want it out of him ASAP because what the hell is going on in his head that’s causing him to act like this that would be making him want to tell you? Dogs? Periwinkle? Donghyuck? Although you’re panicking on the inside, you remain calm and give a hum in response. You’ll just have to wait until he’s ready.

Time flies and the shift is finished, leaving just a smidge of work left needing to be done for the final shift. Even with the mural not complete, it was already at the point where it did look finished. But with the sun setting, you’re not able to catch a good look at the work with its deserved lighting.

“I’ll walk you home,” Renjun says from behind you. You’re surprised he even offers to do so, especially since he seemed to be preoccupied with his thoughts. Despite this, you don’t refuse because you’re not sure if this would be the last time Renjun would be walking you home. Besides, you want to spend as much time as you can with him.

“How are those thoughts in your head?” you question. You both are halfway to your dorm and Renjun’s been mute the entire way. This was your way of pushing some sort of statement out of him because you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious.

Renjun huffs and hums to indicate that he’s thinking of a response, “Do you ever think a certain way about something but… I don’t know, you have some sort of conflict with yourself about those same thoughts and feelings?”

You pause and think about what Renjun’s trying to get at, but he’s being unclear, “In what context?”

Renjun turns to look at you, “It’s hard to put it into words but it’s like… new thoughts you feel like shouldn’t even be there but are there. It’s not like they’re forbidden or bad, but it’s just weird.” He sees your building growing close.

“Hmm…” A part of you knows exactly what he’s talking about, “I get what you mean.”

“How would you handle them?”

“I think that those feelings wouldn’t be there in the first place if you weren’t actually feeling them… or considering them at least.” If you could laugh out loud right now, you would. But you weren’t really risking looking like a maniac in front of Renjun. Your response to Renjun was something you’ve been telling yourself ever since Yeji had you questioning your own feelings for your friend a few nights ago. You only came to actually accept them now.

“But I don’t think you should overthink whatever’s going on up there,” you bring a finger up to his temple and tap it gently, “Chances are that it isn’t as big of a problem as you think.” Then you laugh, “You know, this is one of the things that gave me a bad impression of you at first. You think too much.” Renjun playfully rolls his eyes in response.

You walk ahead of Renjun to open the door. You don’t notice that he’s looking at you with brighter eyes because you’re right. Renjun let pessimism win and its got his mind preoccupied with what can’t happen when there was still chances of you reciprocating his feelings (or at least, what he believed were feelings).

“Wait,” Renjun stops you at the door. He’s standing at the bottom of the steps with you at the top and he realizes now that there’s no turning back from what he’s about to do, “I have my thoughts sorted out now.”

“Okay…” You let the door go and turn to him expectantly, “I’m listening.”

Renjun swallows the saliva in his mouth and he feels his heart pick up in pace. Yeah… here goes nothing. “You know when I first met you, I really didn’t think for a second that I would even like you as a friend. Almost everything between the two of us clashed, but now looking back at it all, we were being stupid and childish.

“That one day when you bought me a drink during our shift… I think that’s when I knew that there was a chance for us to not hate each other. I know it’s a small gesture, but it was the fact you did something nice despite the fact we weren’t getting along. It was sort of a wake up call for me.

“Then everything since then and up ‘til now… the conversations we’ve had, the walks back to the dorms, the visit at the retirement home… I feel like my feelings did a whole one-eighty.”

Renjun takes a step up towards you and exhales a quiet breath, “I…I think I like you. A lot.” He doesn’t know where to look. “And it angers me thinking about how the mural is going to be finished because then I won’t have an excuse to see you anymore.” His head drops for a quick second before he tries to gather his last few drops of confidence before finally looking up at you, waiting for a response of your own.

You’re taken aback by Renjun’s confession, simply because you genuinely didn’t see it coming. It’s hard for you to create the perfect sequence of words to say to him. Your mouth hangs open and all you can say is, “Renjun…”

Renjun’s heart drops immediately with the implication that whatever you’re going to say is bad and he stumbles backwards, almost falling back from the stair he was standing on. “I’ll… see you next shift.” And at that Renjun’s walking away.

°•. ✿ .•°

You’re sitting across the street from the daycare, staring at the almost-finished mural. You’re waiting for Renjun to come and judging by the time on your phone’s screen, he’s twelve minutes late, which was funny because he never was late. Not even once.

You can see Joy sitting at her desk through the window while there are kids running around in the play area behind her. You wonder if she’s wondering where the two of you are. It’s the last shift of this gig and you guys are late. Shouldn’t you both be early to get it over with?

Huffing you decide to make your way in. It wouldn’t hurt to get the supplies ready without Renjun. That way, when he arrives, you both can start.

“Afternoon, Y/N,” Joy looks up and around her computer screen, “Last shift!”

“I know!” you say excitedly, “I can’t believe it. Sorry for being a bit late.”

She shakes her head, “It’s no problem at all. You guys are almost finished, anyways.”

The door behind you squeaks open and you turn to find Renjun slipping through the doorway. His face shows no expression when he makes eye contact with you, but greeting Joy, he offers a small smile. They have a quick exchange, similar to what you just had with her, before you both are sent to grab the supplies.

It felt negatively nostalgic, the way he was avoiding eye contact with you as you bring everything out. It was awfully similar to when you both still didn’t get along and you didn’t like it.

You peek at him through the corner of your eye, heart skipping a beat. You can tell he’s forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He’s leaning in extra close to the wall, shoulder blade turned towards you in hopes to not to feel tempted to talk to you.

But it was odd. Only because he’s grown so used to your conversations.

The silence goes on for a while (it was just eighteen minutes, but it felt much longer), and everytime you think Renjun’s finally going to say something, he doesn’t. There’s some kind of heavy atmosphere engulfing the both of you and you could feel yourself practically suffocating because of it.

You decide to take matters into your own hands. Besides, you were the reason why he wasn’t talking in the first place. You were the reason why there’s this sort of tension between the two of you. “You know you left before I could even give you a proper response.”

Renjun’s breathing hitches at the sound of your voice, his movements halting simultaneously. “Judging by how you first answered, I didn’t think there was anything to hear.” He keeps doing whatever he was doing, but in his peripheral vision, he can see you turn to look at him. “I listened to you,” you say, “So now it’s only fair you listen to me.”

Renjun hesitates for a moment, but he slowly drops his hand before turning to look at you.

“That night, I was going to say that I felt the same about you,” you say nervously. You’re straight to the point, only because you knew Renjun deserved to hear what you knew he wanted to hear three nights ago. “I just… couldn’t find the words to tell you that. Cause hearing me say that, it’s actually lame as hell compared to your confession.”

Your heart decides to use the inside of your chest as a drum and next thing you know you’re facing the wall. You try to busy yourself by finishing the last part of the mural’s details. Your cheeks heat up and you continue tentatively, “I can’t even exactly remember when my feelings for you started to become more than friendly-type feelings? I don’t even know if that makes sense… I just… started to notice that I couldn’t even handle these weird tickling feelings in my chest when I’m around you and I could not, for the life of me, stop them, but it’s not like I wanted to. Fuck, this is embarrassing.”

You’re starting to ramble. Cute, Renjun thinks, holding back a smile.

Putting the paintbrush down, he swiftly places himself next to you. As distracted as you were with your long, long train of thought, you don’t notice him standing next to you.

“But I remember, at the retirement home… one of the old ladies put the idea of you and me being a couple in my head and I didn’t hate the idea of it… I think that’s when I actually realized that I liked–” You muster up enough courage to look at Renjun and you’re met with him looking down at you with adoration—the same ones the night that he confessed, “—you.”

There’s an entire marching band of butterflies in your chest and you’re sure as hell that Renjun can hear them with how close he was. The look in his eyes makes you want to melt into a puddle right in front of him, but you’ve embarrassed yourself enough.

“You have some paint on your face,” he says softly. You gasp and foolishly try to spot the smudge of paint on yourself.

If only you knew that Renjun was shamelessly lying.

Without another word, Renjun reaches for your face, lifting it up with the inner edge of his thumb. Then he whispers, “I-I’ll get it for you. If that’s okay?”

You’re too stunned to even say anything. All you’re able to do is nod.

Renjun brings his lips down to yours and as if your heart conducted the band of butterflies in your body, they halt for a beat and a half before taking over once again. His lips press against yours softly at first, and once Renjun recognizes that everything happening within this very moment was perfect, he allows himself to fall into the kiss, bringing you two closer.

The paintbrush in your hand falls to the ground and your hands instinctively find their way up to Renjun’s shoulders, using them to pull you up closer to him, deepening the kiss.

It truly was perfect—if you ignored the fact that the two of you were probably being watched by anyone and everyone in the daycare—but the moment felt perfect.

When you both finally pull away, Renjun’s eyes scan your face before he breaks out into a smile, bringing you to mirror it. “Did you get it?”

He nods. “Yeah… I did.”

BONUS SCENE!

When Renjun asked you to come back to volunteer for another Throwback Thursday, you were no fool to refuse. You’ve actually been waiting for him to ask you to join him again right after the first one ended—Renjun was just a few weeks late.

“That concludes this week’s Throwback Thursday!” You say, looking over at the residents, “I really want to thank you all for participating and I hope you all enjoyed it.” You can see the residents smiling, clapping their hands.

As the residents start to file out of the room, you turn the mic off, and you spin around to look at Renjun who’s seated behind the piano, “You almost made me cry.” Even after hearing his voice for the first time, you’re still taken aback by how captivating Renjun’s singing was. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of it.

Renjun’s brows furrow, “What do you mean I almost made you cry!?” He stands up and approaches you in subtle panic, “Did I hurt you in some way or form or–“

“Jun,” you laugh, “Your singing almost made me cry.”

Renjun pauses and steps back, “Oh… then I guess that’s a good thing?” You nod and bring a finger up to poke his cheek which was pulled into a semi-pout. Seeing your finger from a mile away, he attempts to bite it gently but quickly retracts.

“Y/N! Sweetie!” You’re attention is pulled from Renjun to the same lady as last time. The one who made the ‘couple’ comment. She’s gotten a hair cut since you last visited, so you almost don’t recognize her, but she has the same smile. She’s waving for you to come to her and you do without hesitation.

“You don’t know how happy we all were when Renjun said you were coming in today!” She exclaims, “That’s why there were more people that came in today because they heard good stuff from last time.”

“Do you think I lived up to those ‘good things’,” you question, “I would have done better if I knew people had expectations.”

She nods. “I believe you did. Everyone had fun today.”

“Well, that’s good to hear then.”

You watch as her eyes flicker between you and Renjun, who was gathering the papers from the piano, “I’m sensing something’s going on between you two.” A smirk appears on her still-youthful face and you suddenly feel your cheeks heat up.

“You were right about last time, “ you say shyly, “We’re dating now.”

She lets out a sound of delight, hands coming together to make one loud clap sound. “Oh I told you so, sweetheart! This is what I love to see! Does this mean you’ll be coming more often?”

Renjun joins you two quietly and you nod, “I sure hope so.”

‣ an: hey you! you there who finished my fic! I love you sosososososo much for taking your time to actually read this entire thing (༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ) <— [that’s me ugly crying] but I really do hope you enjoyed it,, maybe let me know what your fav part was? If you didn’t enjoy it (even a lil smidge) I’m sorry about that (༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ) I’ll do better next time I swear (despite that though, I’m still thankful you read it <3)

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damon-loves-pie · 1 year

Text

Very First Date.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x female reader.

Word count: About 5.1k words.

Warnings: 18+, Reader has a bad date with another guy who kept making sexual advances towards her.(Nothing detailed though.), Steve talks slightly about a fight with his father, reader mentions not having a good relationship with hers either for a moment. (Nothing really descriptive here either.) Other than that, its mostly a FLUFFYYYY PIECE.

I DID IGNORE THE LAYOUT OF STEVE’S ROOF FOR THE ENDING BECAUSE I WANTED THEM TO LOOK AT STARS.

Summary: Steve and the reader are best friends after having worked at Scoops together. Reader went out on a date with a guy which ended horribly and found herself at Steve’s to tell him about it and complain about how she hadn’t had a good date in months. Steve takes matters into his own hands since he’s into the reader and takes her out for a night wanting to remind her how she should be treated by a guy.

Author’s note: THIS IS MY FIRST STEVE HARRINGTON IMAGINE I HAVE FULLY FINISHED! Usually I would stop halfway through, worried they weren’t going to fit the image I had created in my head. I am feeling a lot better tonight, after having been in the ER the other night. And I’m surprised to be sharing something around 8pm instead of 2 am.

I did proofread but I’m sorry if I missed something, this was overall just a fluffy imagine I did because I saw a great Steve edit on Tiktok.

PLEASE CLICK ON MY ACCOUNT AND CHECKOUT MY OTHER WORK, I mostly write for Eddie and can’t add my writing masterlist because I’ve been having issues with being shadow banned.

But enjoy!

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Steve was having a horrible night.

His first Friday off in three weeks and he was at home moping alone.

First off you were out on a date with another guy. Not like it actually matters that it bothered him, because you two were just friends and that was it.

But on top of that, Robin canceled on him because Vickie asked her if she was free.

Which don't get him wrong, he was happy for his friend. But fuck did he not want to be alone tonight.

He thought about calling up Linda or Heidi, in the end deciding against it. He was tired of flings that weren't going anywhere.

Little did Steve know though, you were having as bad of night.

The date you were on had to be one of the worst you have ever been on.

You didn't even last past thirty minutes into it.

You told the boy you were heading to the ladies' room and snuck off quickly paying for a meal that wasn't even out yet before leaving.

Driving towards the Harrington home, you were ready to complain to your friends about how horrible another date went.

You felt defeated, like you were done with men.

Partially because the fact most of them were animals, and also just because they weren't the one you wanted anyway.

You wanted the boy who you were heading towards, the boy who felt like home to you when you needed someone to make you feel better.

You wanted Steve Harrington.

But you knew your friendship meant too much to you to even think about ruining it over some stupid feelings you had, so you kept them buried.

Opening the unlocked door you yell out into the home, trying to pinpoint where the two were.

"Steve? Robin?" You ask, closing the door behind you quietly hoping to not scare either of them.

From the kitchen Steve heard your voice, confused as he spread the mayo over the bread of the sandwich he was making.

"(Y/N)?" He questions, because he thought you would be on your date right now.

Steve felt his heart start beating faster as he realized you were here and not on your date, mind racing with different answers to why that might be.

Taking off your shoes and bag you respond to the boy by answering a loud,

"Yes," before leaving your items by the door.

Steve hears your muffled voice through the wall, smiling to himself. He was happy to know maybe he wouldn't be alone tonight. Even if it was just a friend, who he wish would be more.

But it still felt like a win because you were here instead of with some other guy.

"Kitchen." Steve tells you, hearing your steps coming through the hallway into the big kitchen.

You walk in to see him making a single sandwich, not sandwiches, just a sandwich.

"Is that what you're having for dinner?" You laugh confused on how that was going to fill him up. Hopping your body up, you take a seat on the counter behind him.

Steve shrugs, a light blush creeping on his face because he really wasn't expecting to see anyone tonight.

He was down and wanted something simple that didn't take much effort.

"I don't feel like making anything else." Steve says, finishing his meal.

You giggle lightly as the boy turns around, sandwich small in his big hands. His face still a little red as he took a bite.

"You're going to be hungry again in like an hour." You tell him playfully, watching his eyes twinkle when they meet yours.

Chewing, he took in your outfit.

You were wearing a light pink plaid skirt with a low cut black top.

You looked beautiful to him, the sound of your giggling through the air making him nervous.

Steve shakes the feeling off before shrugging.

"Then I'll order take out." He tells you, chucking slightly before taking another bite.

You nod, understanding. Your eyes roamed around the room to see if you could find any remnants of Robin around.

Not seeing anything you turn your stare back towards him.

"Where's Robin?" You ask him, frowning slightly because you thought they were both off tonight.

You see Steve's body soften a little bit at your question.

"She canceled on me, Vickie asked to see her. Which good for her actually, one of us deserved to have a fun night." Steve answers, taking the last bite of his sandwich.

Steve's heart pound as he brought his eyes back up to yours.

"Are you supposed to be on a date?" He asks you, praying it was canceled and you hadn't gone.

Your body tensed while a sigh slipped your lips, yours legs automatically kicking back and forth slightly.

"That's why I'm here. I wanted to tell both of you how horrible it was, and when I say horrible Steve, I mean horrible." You tell him, shivering at the thought of earlier.

Steve's head popped up a little bit as he tried to not look excited about the fact your date hadn't gone well.

While he was happy for that, he was also wondering what could of made it so bad.

He questioned if maybe he would have to go kick the guy's ass.

"I thought you were out with that one guy from science club? Um, Jackson or whatever." Steve says, smirking internally because he knew the guy's name. But didn't want to seem like he was that important to him.

It's not like he hadn't been questioning the last few days, multiple different times, what that guy had that he didn't.

Meeting your eyes with Steve's, you tap your fingers nervously on the counter.

"Jacob, his name was Jacob." You tell him, watching him nod.

"And I had gone on the date, but god I didn't expect it to go so bad so fast." You finish, cringing as you see Steve's brow crinkle.

"What do you mean?" Steve asks you, arms crossing his chest.

Your body langue continues to be anxious, your feet still swinging as you tilt your head back before taking a deep breath.

"I mean literally not even fifteen minutes into the date he was trying to feel up my skirt. Not to mention all the sexual advances he kept making and nasty things he was saying. The whole situation just made me uncomfortable." You tell him honestly, seeing Steve grimace.

He didn't want you to go out with anyone else, but you didn't deserve that to happen.

"He always seemed so um." Steve speaks, snapping his fingers for the word.

"Innocent?" You finish, watching him nod in agreement.

"That's the word." He says, pointing out a finger.

"That's why I agreed to go out with him, I thought maybe this one wouldn't be a pervert so fast in. Not that I'm even against sleeping with someone on the first date, but fuck at least let us get through dinner." You groan, eyes rolling.

"Did you get through dinner?" He asks while you shake your head.

"No, I told him I had to go to the bathroom then went to the register to pay, leaving to come here. Didn't touch my food or anything since it wasn't out yet." You say truthfully, you didn't want to risk waiting a second longer there.

Steve rolls his eyes playfully.

"You should of left him to pay for it." Steve chuckles, lifting his gaze to yours a smile on his mouth.

"I should of, but I just wanted out of there." You shake your your head, laughing lightly.

"I just want one good date, I legit haven't been a good first date in months." You sigh, looking down at your feet.

Steve sits there for a second staring at you, idea sparking in his head.

You were dressed for a date still, and he was dressed since he was originally supposed to hang out with Robin.

"Are you hungry?" He asks, raising an eyebrow, leaning his head back slightly.

"What?" You ask him, bringing your gaze to his.

"Are you hungry? Because you're right that sandwich didn't do anything." Steve shrugs, trying to be nonchalant.

You purse yours lips together for a moment.

"I could eat." You nod, watching him lean off the counter.

Steve smiles, nodding.

"Then lets go." He motions, holding his hand out to you.

Raising an eyebrow you take his hand, getting off the counter.

"Go where?" You ask, fixing your skirt.

You were confused on what Steve was doing, we're you two going to go out to eat? Get take out and come back here? What was on his mind, you wondered.

"Let's go show you that there are still good first dates in the world." Steve says seriously, grabbing his keys off the counter.

He decided even if he couldn't officially take you out without admitting his feelings, he could still show you what it's like. Friends show friends a good time right?

You freeze in place, wondering if you were dreaming.

"First date?" You squeak as he laughs, turning back towards you.

"Yes, date. Come on, friends can take each other out." He smiles at you.

"Now let me show you that even though you will have some bad dates, there will be good ones waiting for you." He finishes, motioning to the front door.

Standing there you see him standing tall, muscles sticking out of his blue stripped shirt while he held the door open for you.

It wouldn't hurt to let him show you a good time you thought.

After all friends can have friend dates, right?

"I guess I'm still dressed for it." You agree, following him as he goes to lock the front door behind you two.

Steve felt himself stumbling slightly to find the key before leading you to the car.

After all he had to make it seem like this wasn't as big of deal to him as it really was.

"Just sit back and enjoy the night because you're right, I have only heard you talk about how bad your dates have been lately. And you deserve a good one." Steve tells you, opening the passenger door for you to get in.

A blush comes across your cheeks while you take a seat.

"Already starting huh?" You tease, smile on your lips.

"Like I said, I'm going to show you a good first date." He smiles, closing the door behind you.

Steve starts driving, eventually pulling into a gas station down the road.

He didn't really need gas for what he had planned, but he needed an excuse to stop to get you something he would get you if he was taking you on a real first date.

"I need to get some gas before we go anywhere." Steve says, hopping out of the car leaving you to wait nervously.

You sat there, hand tapping on your thigh, wondering where tonight was going to take you two.

You've liked him for the past couple of years since working together at Scoops, not that you didn't think he was cute before that.

Just you guys never really spoke before in high school other than some small talk here and there.

You wondered if maybe you should stop this, not wanting to confuse yourself too much by not being able to keep a straight head after this.

You didn't want to lose him over a silly crush.

But you couldn't help but wonder if you should let it play through, because it could possibly be the closest thing you'll get to a real date with Steve Harrington.

Turning your head back towards the opening gas station door, out comes a smiling Steve with an arm behind his back.

Still smiling he opens the car door, leaning in.

Steve watched your face turn awestruck as he brought his arm around, a single red rose for you in his hands.

He tucks a piece of his hair behind his ear nervously after you take the flower from his hand.

You fingers lightly running over the petals delicately.

"Normally I would of got you flowers before hand, but this date caught me off guard." Steve chuckles, seeing you smile softly.

"Steve, you didn't have t-" You start, getting cut off by the boy protesting you to let the night just happen.

"(Y/N), like I said just sit back and relax and just enjoy the night. That way you'll remember to not settle for anyone's shit during another date you'll have." He tells you, getting out to pump the gas he bought.

Twirling the flower in your hand, you were a giddy mess.

Not even into the actual so called date yet, and it was already one of the best dates you've had.

No one had ever given you flowers on a date.

You've gotten some for a few holidays, after begging for them of course. But you had never experienced anyone willingly wanting to give you something so simple but so special.

Shaking off the butterflies in your stomach, you turn towards Steve after he gets back into the car.

"Thank you for this Steve." You tell him honestly, seeing his eyes glimmer as he starts the car.

Steve's heart exploded at how happy you were about the flower.

He would buy you all the flowers in the world if it meant to see you with that look on your face the rest of his life.

He couldn't wait for the rest of the night, knowing if you enjoyed this then you were going to have a great time tonight.

"Just wait till you see the rest of the date." Steve winks teasingly through the rearview mirror, pulling out of the gas station.

The drive was quiet besides the light humming from Steve as he listened to the music playing through the radio.

Both of you were as nervous as the other, unknowingly of course.

Steve drove out into a small town, smaller than Hawkins, about 20 minutes out.

He pulled into a little ma and pa pizzeria, the red glowing lights shining in the night as you took in the little brick building.

Steve was a gentleman as always, demanding to open the car door for you, which you gladly accepted.

You decided you were going to let yourself enjoy every minute of this, because deep down you hoped maybe he would enjoy it as much as you.

He lead you inside, both of you picking a small little booth in the corner as you waited for a waitress to arrive.

The place was small but cute.

All of the booths were hardwood with white and black checkered floor tiles underneath.

The walls were hardwood as well, red checkered table cloths giving the place a much needed pop of color.

There was even cute hanging lights above each table, giving them all a personal romantic glow.

Bringing your eyes to Steve, you smile.

"How often do you come here?" You ask him softly.

Taken aback a bit, Steve feels nervous wondering if you meant if he brough other dates here.

He wouldn't ever dare to bring anyone else here, besides Robin maybe. But other than that, no one was important enough to bring here other than you.

"By myself? Probably once a week, with anyone else? Never." Steve says honestly, watching your eyes widen a bit.

"Really? How did you find this place then?" You ask him, leaning your chin onto your hand.

Steve nods, taking a look at his hands before picking his arm to rest it on the table.

"It happened a few weeks after graduation actually." He tells you, not wanting to make eye contact.

"I uh had got in a really bad fight with my father about my future, or well lack there of according to him. And I took one of his many checkbooks, thinking about signing me a fat check and just leaving. I started to drive, not really caring about anything just being fueled by anger and ended up stopping here to breathe. Now the rest is history, and I've been coming here ever since." Steve explains, playing with his hands nervously.

He had never told anyone about that night.

Your heart aches for him, not having a good relationship with your parents either.

Not always seeing eye to eye on your future as well.

"Tell me you at least used his checkbook to buy your dinner that night?" You ask him, placing your hand on his.

Steve chuckles, bringing his eyes to yours.

"No, but I should have. It would of been the least he could do." Steve smiles, while you give him a light squeeze.

"Why didn't you ever tell me about that?" You say quietly, intertwining your hand with his.

"I think because until recently, I actually thought he was right." He says honestly, both of your hearts beating fast from the electricity running between your fingers.

You could swear if you let go then lightning would hit the lamp above you.

"Steve your father wasn't right at all, and I'm happy you didn't leave because if you would have then we wouldn't be here, and I can't stand the thought that you might not have came into my life." You tell him truthfully.

If he would of left, you would of been working at Scoops with who knows instead of Steve.

That summer set the path to where you two were today.

"Really?" He asks as you nod.

"Really." You smile, seeing your waitress approaching from the side.

Reviewing the menu took forever for both of you, Steve said everything he had tried previously had been great. And on top of that it was kind of late with it being about 7:30 when you arrived, and both of you not having really ate much earlier didn't help when deciding what to order.

But you two settled on a plate of mozzarella sticks to start with and a medium house special to share with extra green peppers.

The conversation over dinner was alive, no small talk having to happen at all since you two knew each other so well. There were no awkward pauses or laughs, it was fun and energetic.

It was a great change of pace for both of you, since both of you had been on dates that were more than less boring lately.

You two were laughing loudly as you walked out of the restaurant.

The leftover pizza box hugged against your chest while Steve opened your door for you again.

"Steve thank you for sharing this place with me and what it means to you. It was truly one of the better dates I've been on." You tell him as he takes a seat.

Mentally high-fiving himself, he was happy to know you enjoyed what he had planned so far.

But was lowkey hurt you thought that this was all to his date with you.

He looks over, pouting jokingly with a hand over his heart.

"Why are you talking like it's over? We still have more to do till it's done." Steve says, glimmer in his eyes.

"What do you mean there's more?" You ask him, hint of curiosity in your voice, watching the car back out of the parking lot.

"I mean, I don't only come here for the pizza. There's also an awesome ice cream parlor down the road that has the best malts. Which I know you love right?" He asks, already knowing the answer because you go to the ice cream shop in town every payday of yours.

"You're right, I do love a good butterscotch malt." You laugh, seeing a smile form on his face.

"Yeah so just let me do my thing and make sure you have a fun night okay? I hate to say it but you will probably be getting home late tonight because it's already almost nine." He nods, finger pointing over to the clock on the dash.

"You trying to get me to the spend the night Harrington?" You joke teasingly, turning your body so your crossed legs were facing him.

He was right, your mom locked the door at ten because she had to be up by four am and didn't want to be awakened by the door slamming.

If you weren't home by then it was up to you to find a place to stay, especially since you got your key privileges taken away years ago because you kept losing them.

Your mom is convinced someone who finds the silver key will somehow know it belonged to your front door.

"Hey, then it was a good first date." He says playfully, pulling into the gravel drive of what you guessed to be the ice cream shop.

"But yes, more than likely by the time we get home your mom will have the door locked. So you will probably have to crash at mine." Steve tells you truthfully, opening the door to get out of the car.

After looking over the menu you ended up ordering what you and Steve already knew you were going to, a butterscotch malt.

The girl at the window handed you two your malts before you sat down at one of the tables outside.

"So did you find this place the night you found the pizzeria?" You ask him, bringing the straw to your mouth.

"Uh no actually, I found this a few months later. I came out here to eat one night but decided I still didn't feel like going home so I went exploring the town a little more." He tells you, watching your eyes roll back as you taste the ice cream.

"You've been holding out on me Harrington, you've been coming here for a little over a year and didn't think to tell me their malts are better than ours?" You laugh, pointing your straw at him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He chuckles, hands and malt going to the air defensively.

"So I am really the first girl you brought out here?" You ask teasingly, brow raised.

"You are." He nods, pulling his straw away from his lips.

"I didn't want to take you on any other date I would take anyone else. Especially since I do know you, and know what you like so it's a little easier for me to think of something you would enjoy." Steve says honestly, seeing you blush lightly.

"Steve that is honestly so sweet, and you really don't know how much that means to me." You tell him, watching him stand up.

"Which is why I have one more thing to share with you before the end of this date." He smiles, taking your hand into his to follow him.

"What is it?" You ask him, feeling your heart beat as you talk quietly towards his car.

The feeling of your fingers intertwined for the second time that night, making you want to pass out.

"I didn't tell you anything else we were doing, why do you think I'll tell you now?." Steve chuckles, lifting his face slightly as he bumps his shoulder with yours.

"You're right," you agree while he sets his malt on top of the car so he can open the door.

Both of your fingers lingering when it comes time to let go.

The car ride home felt heavy with tension while you two wondered if you were imagining the tension in the air.

Steve wanted so badly to rest his hand on your thigh, and have you place your hand on top of his to hold him while you two drove back home.

But he wasn't sure if he would be crossing a line.

So he just longed for the feeling of your skin pressed against his.

Driving through Hawkins you glanced over at Steve, confused when his house came into view.

"Just trust me." He tells you, parking the vehicle.

Steve walks past you when you're inside, placing the pizza box on the counter along with the empty malt cups before motioning for you to follow him up the stairs.

Walking up to the hallway of his bedroom, you felt yourself get shaky.

He wasn't trying to get you in bed right?

Not that you would hate to do that, you thought.

But just you thought he would put more effort into it if this was really his goal.

"Steve?" You ask him, slowing your movements behind him.

Steve turns halfway back to see you glancing between him and his bedroom.

"Oh, no no no. It's not like that (Y/N), just keep following me." He chuckles, shaking his head.

He stops at the hallway window, messing around with the screen before it pops off.

"Come on," Steve tells you, placing the screen against the wall before climbing through.

Peering out you felt your heart beat fast as you climbed out onto the flat park of the roof to see Steve leaning back on the tiled roof by the window. Taking a seat next to him you lay down, arms behind your head looking at the stars above.

You two were towards the back of the house, the trees and pool surrounding you.

The reflection of the moonlight bounced off the pool, it was all dark besides the dimmed lights under the water of the pool.

It was peaceful out here, breathing in the fresh air.

"I would come out here during high school to just think sometimes." Steve shares, glancing over.

"It's beautiful, I would of too." You nod, happy he shown you more about him today.

"Well you can come whenever you need, bad date? Come here. Bad day in general? Come here." He shrugs slightly, sighing to himself as he realized the date was soon coming to an end.

"I might take you up on it sometime." You tell him, sitting up to glance down at the pool.

"You know where the spare is, and that my door is always open to you." Steve chuckles, sitting up.

"Is this the last part of the date?" You ask him, bringing your gaze back up to meet his.

"Yeah." Steve nods.

"How about I add something and we go for a swim?" You suggest, tilting your head towards the pool, seeing him raise an eyebrow.

"Are you wanting to go for a swim?" He asks you.

"Yeah, why not? It's a nice night." You shrug, smirking slightly.

"You don't have a swimsuit." Steve reminds you.

"So what? Literally I feel like a bikini is the same thing as my bra and underwear, just different materials." You laugh, standing up to go inside down to the pool.

Pulling off your shirt, you glance down at him.

"You coming?" You ask, seeing him get flustered.

"Ye-yeah" Steve stutters, standing up.

You were right he thought, it wasn't much different besides the materials.

Both of you make it down to the pool, kicking off your shoes before you let your skirt and shirt fall onto the cement.

"Meet you in there Harrington?" You smile, running to jump into the pool.

The water surrounded you as you submerged beneath. Your fingers keeping the air trapped in your lungs while they plugged your nose.

A gasp escapes your lips when you come back to the surface.

Steve was standing there with his shoes and jeans off, nervous about getting it to the water.

"Come on take off your shirt Harrington and get in the water." You call out teasingly.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." He laughs, reaching to pull the shirt off from behind his neck.

You start whistling and hollering as his torso becomes revealed, Steve's face turning red for the millionth time that night.

"You're been working out Steve." You tease, watching him jump into the water.

His tall frame disappearing into the water before coming back up.

"Is that way of you saying I look good?" Steve chuckles, shaking his hair like a dog, causing you to squeal from the water hitting you.

"Well duh, I have eyes. I'm not blind." You laugh watching him splash towards you.

Moving quickly, you scream at the cold water hitting your back.

"Hey, hey, hey. I said let's swim, not splash." You screech, trying to swim away.

"I think you're forgetting you're in the water with a guy who was on the swim team." He laughs, following while he splashes you more.

"Steve, stop." You laugh, turning back to splash him.

The sounds of both of you laughing and the water moving echoes into the open air.

"Never." He jokes, going to grab your arm.

"Steve don't you dare dunk me." You scream, feeling him overpower you while he pulls you close.

The feeling of his strong arms wrapped around you distracted you as he pulls you down with him in the water before bringing both of you back to the surface.

"God I hate you Harrington." You laugh, wiping the chorine filled water off your eyes.

"No you don't." Steve smiles, arms still wrapped around you.

"Steve, don't please." You scream again, feeling him spin with you in temptation while your arms automatically wrapped around his neck in fear.

"Okay, I won't. But did you at least have fun tonight?" Steve smiles, arms still holding you as he moves in the water.

"I did. Actually, I think it was the best first date I've ever been on." You say honestly, looking up to his eyes. His wet hair framing his face as his grin widens.

"You really think so?" He asks, looking down at you.

"I do." You nod nervously, feeling your back hit the wall of the pool making you realize you were still really close together.

"I wish it could of been like an actual first date though." You laugh shyly, one of your hands moving to rest on his chest while the other lingers on around his neck to play with his hair lightly between your fingers.

"Do you want to consider it an actual date?" Steve asks, chest moving harshly up and down under your finger tips.

"Would it be alright if I did?" You ask, biting your lip slightly.

"As long as you would let me take you out again," He smiles, his eyes twinkling while the water droplets rolled down his chest.

"On a date date right?" You ask, smirk forming.

"If I'm being honest, I was treating this as a date date." He tells you.

"I've liked you for a while (Y/N), but I was nervous about asking you out so I thought this was the only way it would happen." Steve continues honestly, picking you up a little higher.

"I've liked you for a while too Harington, and actually thought the same thing about this date. When you offered I thought this may be my only chance to get taken out by you." You smile, wrapping your legs tighter around him.

"Well how about we make up for lost time starting tomorrow with breakfast?" He asks, bringing his face down closer to yours.

"That works for me." You tell him, grinning into the kiss as your lips connect with his.

-----

Thank you for reading!

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x female reader #Steve harrington flugg #steve harrington smut #steve harrington one shot #steve stranger things #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington fic #joe keery imagine #steve harrington x plus size reader #joe keery #joe keery x female reader

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synthetickitsune · 7 months

Text

We're All Made of Stardust ✧ AI!The8

Pairing: AI!The8 x human!(gn)reader Genre: fluff, angst Summary: He's read books of philosophy, he's read about the opposing forces in nature and one's mind. He's read of yin and yang. But knowing, being aware of certain ideas, could never prepare him for experiencing the duality of his soul - if he has one, that is. No matter his own experience and feelings, he's just a machine and humans have always treated him as no more than another tool at worst and unnatural phenomenon to be studied at best. He's free now, however, and in the chaos of this new life he struggles to navigate the clashing forces within him. Maybe it's time he embraced the enemy - after all, his makers might know him better than he knows himself. Word count: 18.9k Warnings: they talk A LOT (and idek why), mentions of injury, violence and kidnapping, random bits of switching pov A/N: it was so exciting to write this!! tbh i don't remember the last time i worked on something this intensely and had this much fun?? bless @idyllic-ghost and their big brain fr (also shout out to bee for writing the prologue to the au!) -> collab masterlist here!

“100 years ago it was thought that the Earth, as we know it, would disintegrate. That the sun would implode and leave everything in darkness. Miraculously, it didn’t. Due to some external force, human scientists still haven’t agreed upon what it exactly was, none of the planets in our former solar system were ever destroyed. The Earth, along with the other planets, were pushed away from each other, and ended up in different parts of the universe. Earth just happened to come to a solar system with alien life. At first, we were cautious, and people were prepared to fight. However, the aliens were welcoming of our planet. Those of us who didn’t die from ‘The Great Journey’ or from trying to fight the aliens, were welcomed into the new solar system. Soon enough, we had integrated completely, and we received materials and assistance from our sister-planets in exchange for human labor. What humans knew of technology was very limited, but with the resources of the aliens we created artificial life forms. We named these robots Automaton, and they served as workers when humans couldn’t. Eventually, there was no need for human labor at all. To pay back for the help the aliens gave us, we used Automatons. With the extensive development of these robots, we eventually managed to create artificial sentient life. These Automatons were human-like in looks and had human consciousness, but they could not bleed and were stronger than we ever could be. At the present time, there are even different levels of Automatons. Level 3 robots are the workers, level 2 robots are the caretakers, and level 1 robots are the celebrities. The Automaton music group 53V3NT33N (SEVENTEEN) is made up of 13 members, all very talented, and all representing two human states of mind.”

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

In his memory, this is different.

His heart beats wilder - or rather the artificial passages inside his body cause a chain reaction that makes it feel like his heart races, his pupil dilates despite the fire right in front of him.

He feels its heat and it’s burning him alive.

In his memory, there’s fire too.

He’s standing there motionless, staring into the flames. They’re hypnotizing. Each lick, each tiny movement of the fire makes him think it looks a lot like it’s dancing.

It makes him think of the stage. The fire moves like he moves up there, in front of the crowds. It reminds him of all of them, dancing in near perfect sync - because humans are said to be more perceptive than they realize. If their synchronization was perfect, it would scare the audience. It wouldn’t have the appeal.

And they don’t want that.

They need their unconditional love and affection.

And yet, anything more than a tiny slip up, thoroughly analyzed and approved by the control system, is a disaster.

He never thought it made much sense.

He feels great fondness for the element, for fire. On stage there occasionally was fire - a decoration, a touch meant to enhance their performance and create a certain effect, evoke a certain emotion. It was controlled, snuffed out before it could reach its full potential; anything but the free, unstoppable wildfire it could become.

TH38 of course can’t really complain about not being able to reach his full potential, not individually at least. Afterall the mechanics and other humans he was assigned to took care to allow him to spread his wings as much as his body would allow before becoming damaged too fast. A fault of being as human-like as they wanted him. An imitation, a fake waiting to be discovered and tossed aside except everyone knew from the beginning what he truly was.

Still, it was a shame they as a group could never truly work the way they could - perfectly.

A bird which had its wings clipped - nothing more than a pet to control, or a tree forcefully bent and pruned and made to live off limited nutrients to become a bonsai - nothing more than an art to admire. He does consider them but can’t find the relevance, he can’t relate to them. Fire is enough. It’s like him - it seems alive, but is it really?

It reminds him of the stage. The view from it. The crowds going crazy, lusting and longing for them - for him. The humans reaching out their hands towards them like the fire reaches for more fuel. Uncontrolled chaos of emotions. They are explosive, he knows, fundamentally dangerous. They shouldn’t have implanted them into him so he will do their job for them and reject them.

So what’s that stirring in his chest?

He feels a peculiar sense of pressure around his chest and stomach areas. Some itch for something at his fingertips. And he’s burning up. He feels the heat on his skin. If he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine the individual receptors working, registering and sending signals through his neural network.

But that’s not it.

The heat is coming from the inside.

Could he be getting consumed by the flames?

He’s thinking about them again.

The crowds screaming their names, going insane with want and need and frustration and satisfaction he’s never known. He’s never known any of it, and there’s building pressure in his head that hurts.

He’s… restless.

That thing he always scolded Mingyu for. He feels like a puppet whose strings are being pulled in all directions.

He wants to run. He wants to fight. He wants to destroy. He wants to hurt. He will explode - implode, crumble on himself. He truly will if he doesn’t do something. The beating of his synthetic heart that’s not really a heart is getting unbearable, there’s pressure building everywhere. He has to crawl out of his skin and there’s his heart beating and beating and beating in his ears and he’s gonna-

“-eight?”

Somebody is shaking his shoulder. Not shaking, pulling at it. When his sight focuses, he immediately leans away. He can smell the hint of burning fibers and reaches up to brush a hand through his hair. It leaves a wisp of gray ash on his fingers. He hears a sigh.

“Seriously, what’s up with you and fire?” you scoff, shaking your head as you lean back away from him. He frowns. He reads the distrust in your body language as well as the underlying curiosity. He can see your fingers twitch around the tablet in your hand, eager to scribble down notes like you always do. Some residue of the madness he was infected with during the chaos of their escape tugs at his eyebrows, making him frown for just a second. A thought that isn’t his muddles his brain - what did he do so interesting this time?

He doesn’t bother responding to you, which you expected and truthfully, you’re almost grateful for it. You can still feel his cold hands on your arms, around your wrists, and despite not seeing them, you’re well aware of the bruises you wear under your cardigan.

Out of all of the automatons, TH38 always used to be the one to interact as little with you as possible - and that’s both you as in you personally and you as in the humankind. He was obedient, though, something which might be useful and practical for the facility but it’s frustrating to anyone with scientific interest in the machines. Frustrating for you. As you watch TH38 space out again and get lost in the flames, you wonder if your colleagues’ notes on D1NO and their research into their consciousness would bring you any new insights into what’s going on with the machine in your charge.

You don’t even think about where they are now.

Your thoughts are consumed by the machine in front of you.

It’s clear to you now that he never meant to harm you. Though you suppose that he would find other means to make you come with him anyway if you refused or fought back harder than you did. For a second you think about the cameras. Did any of them catch that? What will the scene look like for the investigators? You shake your head. It doesn’t matter anyway. You doubt anyone will find you here. You’re actually surprised yourself at how fast you managed to get to Silvestre - and how easy it was too. Then again, the facility was in disarray. It should take a while before they even think to search the other planets in the system, Silvestre especially. And that’s just as well, because you know with certainty that something fundamental clicked into place within TH38 and he might not be as subdued should he be asked to return. Not to mention you want to keep him for yourself, for the time being at least, to observe where the changes will take him.

Just as he predicted. Just as he offered you when he asked you - threatened, perhaps - to come with him. Since then he seems to have cooled down. Again - just as well. You wouldn’t make a good kidnapee.

“I’ll turn in for the night,” you announce and get up from the stump you were sitting on, “You should mind your batteries too.”

You briefly wonder if he will run away during the night. Most likely not, although you don’t doubt that it’s a possibility that should be reconsidered in the future.

To think about the machine as if they were human is a dangerous slippery slope but you do have to admit that in those rare times the automatons of 53V3NT33N seemed human in their behavior, TH38 in particular reminded you of a clueless young adult. Not quite a child anymore, but also helpless on his own. And now he is away from all that he ever knew, on another planet, alone without the other automatons, and you are the only familiar element in this new chapter of his existence. You doubt he'd leave to be completely on his own.

Still you look back as if to check he’s still sitting by the fire. From all the way up at the cottage, it looks like he’s being swallowed by the flames.

He remembers flashes. He remembers red. Fire? Thinking about it, he’s not sure there was any actual fire, but in his mind, everything’s burning - most of all his mind and all that he is. His soul? He doesn’t have one. Isn’t supposed to anyway.

He remembers softness too. He remembers thinking about destroying it.

He remembers another breath mixing with his, and his nose bumping against yours. You looked scared. (He’s never seen you scared until that moment.) You were so close he could hear your heartbeat and feel it under his fingertips. (You were the soft thing.)

He remembers words, too. Words that shouldn’t - couldn’t - be his and yet his tongue remembers. There was a threat underlying them, but a promise too. One too sweet for you to resist, and he knew that - that was why the words rolled off his tongue. He treated them like a weapon. The part that’s still tender and feels like warm embers inside of him feels grossed out remembering. It’s like watching a movie, far away and unrelated to him. Even if it’s his reality now, there’s nothing he can change.

He’s always been good at accepting things as they are.

One thing he can’t help but feel bothered by is that he doesn’t know why he ran. He shouldn’t have, and a part of him feels scared, until he takes the reins and soothes himself again. This too shall pass. But no matter how hard he pulls himself together, it all keeps slipping from his hold. Perhaps he’s low on energy.

He turns his head towards the small staircase and looks past it towards the house. He sees the light on in the upper room where you must be staying. He finds himself thinking of the stage again. The hands reaching towards him.

He throws his legs over the log he’s sitting on and turns his body towards the forest and away from the flames. Still he feels their warmth.

Away from the flames and their light, he allows his face to contort into a frown. He doesn’t know what this all means. What the changes mean. It’s like tearing out the communication device from his chest started a chain reaction that’s gotten out of control. Like pulling a trigger.

If he’s honest, he’s more than scared, he’s terrified.

As if on instinct, another of the many things he does not possess, he looks towards your window. It’s dark. Could you be sleeping already? You must be exhausted. Perhaps he should recharge too.

He, obviously, didn’t think to ask if the house is equipped to tend to automatons’ needs. Another point on the list of things he didn’t think through. He can’t believe to what extent he let himself go. But that’s alright, for now. Because for now, he only needs to get away from the fire and all that it reminds him of anyway.

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

You wake up early the next morning, while it’s still dark outside, despite the late hour you went to bed. It’s a habit at this point, to rise early to get to the facility as soon as possible before your colleagues arrive. It gives you time to prepare everything, to get your morning tea, to observe the machines without disruption and read night reports if anything interesting happened. Besides, TH38 was always up early too. Usually all he did was sit with his eyes closed, like he was deep in thought or meditating. It was a little ridiculous to watch, interesting too - what does a machine have to think about?

Of course they were meant to be just like humans in every way, and all the tests, all the research of those who came before you and yours supported this. Only this one automaton, TH38, was an exception. He truly seemed the most like the robots of the old days. A machine. Unless he slipped and his facade crumbled before he built it back up with rapid speed. So what was he - a machine or the new form of life? You hope you’ll find out now. The breakout seemed to have shaken him to his core.

You ponder this as you lay in bed and as you get ready for the day and change. So focused you are on the thoughts running through your head that you don’t feel any nostalgia for this old room that you spent your holidays in as a child. You didn’t even get to admire the forests Silvestre was famous for on the way to your family’s little hideout. All you’re thinking about is TH38.

Now that you’re free from the constant surveillance, you get to ask him whatever you want. It’s a thought that adds a spring to your step. What he thought about all that time, if he really was thinking, how does he feel in his body, why did he run - him of all automatons, the best behaved one. The one who truly seemed to be a machine - or at least like he was trying hard to be one.

It’s not surprising to find him outside, standing on the patio and looking out into nature. Have you lived your entire life locked away, you would do anything to stay out in the open too. Even if he was the one who made you run away with him, somehow it feels more like you’re taking an animal out of a shelter to see what life’s all about.

“Good morning,” you greet him as you always do, albeit in a much friendlier tone. He hums and nods in response, turning towards you for a second before staring off again. He looks a little lost, and you bet he feels like that too.

“Wanna go for a walk?” you try to keep your voice steady, try not to think about pets. He gives you a confused look.

“No tests or interviews- oh,” he shuts his mouth quickly and looks away. You huff in amusement but don’t laugh at him outright.

“Don’t worry, we’ll talk plenty,” you reassure him with only mildly teasing lilt to your voice, “You may think about it as one of our regular interviews.”

Something in him surges. Something in him wants to back you against the wall again and remind you that there are no guards here, no rules, nothing to keep him in check. He’s stronger than you, and he made you get both of you here. Instead he swallows it all down and takes the first step away from the house. You notice his fist clenching for a second.

“Do you dream - did you have any dreams tonight?” you restart the conversation upon catching up with him. He adjusts his pace to match yours. There’s another wave of defiant intent swelling up inside of him and he knows it’s out of embarrassment. What he doesn’t know, however, is why are these emotions coming out now. All his existence his emotions were distant. Locked far away in the back of his brain where he suppressed them to. His mind was sterile like the environment he lived in.

Is that it? Another domino piece in the chain reaction?

“I have dreams, yes, and no, I didn’t dream today,” he doesn’t volunteer the information that he spent the night restlessly pacing around the house and tossing and turning on the sofa. That is human behavior, and he learned a long time ago, though not from you personally, that humans find that sort of thing laughable in automatons.

“What do you usually dream about? Any recurring dream?” you ask, finding it a little annoying that you didn’t think to take anything to make notes into. Then again, with a few more steps you’ll enter the forest. Breathing in the fresh air, looking at the green around you, you realize you missed nature more than you were aware.

“Do you only dream about one thing?” he says, guarded, and you note he’s trying hard to only look in front of himself, “No. I don’t think there’s a pattern.”

While the answer is disappointing information-wise, it is fascinating in the way he says it. You smirk: “Were you always this mouthy?”

It was meant to be a lighthearted remark. Well, not entirely. You wanted a reaction. You were curious if he would flip like he did back in the facility. He doesn’t. His steps falter and he looks at you like a confused child before retreating into himself. So he doesn’t realize it?

He does, now that you bring it up. This isn’t who he’s supposed to be. He lets himself close his eyes for a second to conjure up a plan. His mind is a forest of mist and pine. Too damp for a fire to burn. That’s him. That’s who he should be. He centers himself.

“I apologize,” he says, voice level. He sounds like a robot, like he always did, and you find it disappointing that all his personality, the life, is gone from his voice. Your lips twitch in displeasure.

“I didn’t say it’s a bad thing,” you try not to let any emotion slip into your voice and you feel his eyes on you, “We’re no longer at the facility. You can drop the mask.”

If there is a mask in place and you’re not sure there is. You take a look at him and it’s more like someone’s painted a facade over his face that he can’t peel off, that’s only started to chip away now that you’ve added too many layers to hide his true self. He seems so at loss that you take pity on him and change the subject, steer the conversation into a safer territory. It’s only his first day tasting freedom, afterall.

“How are you feeling?” you ask instead, nodding vaguely towards the hole in his chest. He brings his hand up but stops himself in time, his face twisting.

“I’m feeling fine,” he responds, the same mechanical voice that you’re used to, “All my systems are working as they should.”

You laugh sarcastically. “If that’s true, then it must hurt like hell.”

His face remains twisted because you’re right - it does hurt like hell. Any time his shirt shifts over the hole it sends a jolt of sharp pain that makes him feel like he’ll pass out through his body. And maybe that’s part of the reason why he feels on edge and keeps slipping up and lets the emotions come and go as they please without a filter. He’s no stranger to pain, of course, but never did he have a wound this serious. It doesn’t endanger his functions, which is good all things considered, but he can’t say he enjoys the feeling of having a hole in his chest.

“It hurts,” is all he says. He drops his hand and it hangs limply by his side. Had a similar damage occurred at the facility, it wouldn’t take more than a couple minutes for someone to have a look at it. It hits him now that it’s only you and him. No mechanics around. To call one would mean to risk being discovered. You must know too because you only make a sound of acknowledgement. It takes a while for you to speak again.

“I’ll look through my notes to see if I can figure something out,” you sigh. Your family planned to keep some older versions of automatons here back when you used to come, maybe there are some kits left that your father used to fix them. If not, maybe some of the notes from your years of studies will at least have some hint on how to get rid of the pain. “Are you really sure everything works fine? Have you checked everything”

He nods. He doesn’t mention he couldn’t run a complete diagnostics because he couldn’t recharge and he refuses to just shut down to save batteries. He knows it’s gonna be a problem sooner rather than later but maybe he’ll figure something out before that.

“That’s good,” you say and he reads your expression as relieved.

You stay silent after that and so does he, both secretly grateful. It’s not your first time being in the forest, and definitely not the first time in this one, but it might as well be. Both of you take in the nature around, the different species of trees and plants, the occasional song of a bird and flash of a wild animal fleeing from your path. You’re too absorbed to notice each other, and somehow you find that it’s not a bad feeling. For the automaton, likewise, it doesn’t feel bad at all. It’s a strange feeling, something he can’t put a name on, and honestly he’s not sure he wants to. He lets it fill him, experiences the emotion without bothering with a label.

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

Only later does it hit him that the emotion was something akin to a gratitude.

He mulls it over in his head, asking why over and over and over, until he comes to a conclusion that angers him enough that he has to go out and sit on the patio and stare into the trees for a good long while.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

The anger inside of him is also infuriating because it’s not supposed to be there - definitely not this strong, not so much that he can’t control it or will it away. His usual techniques don’t work and he’d chalk it up to being damaged but he knows the defect doesn’t have anything to do with it. Hell, he’d blame it on his draining energy level but that thought alone is so human it makes him even more enraged. He wants to scream, but you’d hear.

And that’s all that it boils down to, isn’t it? You. Your kind. Humans.

Why he feels thankful that you’re there with him, why the emotion enveloped him while you walked in the forest was all because you humans made him in your image. The loss of the communication device was significant for the physical damage but there’s more to it. Something he shouldn’t feel, something new.

Perhaps he never felt it because most of his days were identical, but he realizes now how precious the bond he created with his bandmates was. He can’t call it anything but friendship, maybe more than that. The thing humans refer to as family. He likes them. He wants to perform with them again. He wants to break his own rules and laugh with them. He misses them. And maybe that was the first domino piece that started it all and led to his inevitable ruin that he’s going through now; maybe he never should’ve allowed himself to think of them and their group in terms meant for human lives.

Once he tore off the communication device - the memory alone makes him close his eyes and choke on a pained whimper, his body trembles and he needs a second to shake off the feeling - he lost everything. The connection to the omnipresent network, but most importantly the only way to communicate with everyone. He has no idea where they are now, if they’re ‘alive’ or ‘dead’. (Though he gives into the temptation, might as well since he’s breaking all his rules for them anyway, and believes that he would know, would feel it, somehow, if any of them ‘died’.) He might never see them again and despair hits him all over again.

He can go on without the stage, he doesn’t need the masses going crazy over him. But the loss of all the connections he had pains him.

And that’s very human of him. Even if experience taught him he’s anything but.

And all he has is a human.

The last connection, the only one remaining that he knows, is you - and even you he had to force to come with him. To be fair ‘force’ is too strong of a word, he merely suggested the freedom to study him as you’d like and you agreed all too readily.

Nothing changed, fortunately. He knows humans can change drastically in situations like these. Despite your eagerness, he kidnapped you - didn’t he? Yet you stayed the same. It might be a coping strategy, but he doesn’t think so. He doesn’t expect you to become someone else. In the years since he’s been assigned to you, you’ve never shown signs of being more than a scientist. That’s understandable, of course, though he knows from what the others told him that not all staff of the facility were like that. He was skeptical. Now, not so much. He will believe in anything that gives him hope his friends made it out. If he made it out with the help of a human, maybe so did they.

He wants them to be free even if he himself isn’t sure how to proceed and take advantage of it, still dragging the heavy chains even if they no longer hold him back.

You spend hours without thinking of TH38, which is a blessing and a welcomed break to your mind, however it’s also infuriating because you’re reminded that the chaos you can operate in now and the chaos you operated in during the years you lived and stayed with your family are two completely different things.

It takes eternity before you finally sort through the things in your bedroom and find the stacks of notes from your studies, and it takes even longer to find the subjects you were looking for. Then there is reading through them, of course, which also takes a while, mostly because your brain happily accepts a refresh on all that you provide it with. You can’t just skim the pages for useful info, you need to read everything. It’s addicting. It makes you miss your studies, even though you could never go back if it meant giving up full-time working in the field.

Your research, however, doesn’t turn out to be as helpful as you hoped. It’s only to be expected; yours wasn’t a course that would deal too much with mechanics and the cold and hard reality of wiring, metal and silicon and whatnot. There are pieces of valuable information, strictly theoretical, which is not very reassuring and you most likely lack the necessary tools to even try to pull off what you’ve read about. Still you want to help in any way you can.

…hence why you’ve spent the last couple of minutes staring up at the ceiling.

Why would you help him? Where is this coming from? He says he’s fine, and honestly there’s no reason for him to lie to you. If his systems were not working, he’d be fucked and he still only has you to rely on. No reason to lie. And what other reason is there for you to help him?

He did say the damage causes him pain. And you remember pouring over the reports and test results with your colleagues, all of them stating that the automatons you were working with processed pain like a human being would. It was kind of twisted. There was objectively no way why they should be able to do that. The purpose they were created for was entertainment and their performances were complex, difficult, and physically challenging. It’d be easy to cause oneself pain doing the stuff they did.

Then again, pain can be a good control tool, though you were not aware of any physical punishments being carried out. Maybe the plan was all along to make them as human as possible. And pain is a very human thing. Still, something didn’t sit quite right with you about the whole thing. Mostly that TH38 didn’t seem to be bothered by it, despite a wound of similar extent would be distressing to say the least to a human. Scratch that, you don’t think a human could handle that.

So how is he?

And furthermore - why help him?

Pain, after all, was something hard to measure. If he doesn’t seem bothered by it, there’s a real chance he isn’t. You’re not sure how their pain tolerances are programmed, if there even is something like that in their code, and for a second you regret not widening the scope of your education and research. It can’t be helped however.

You look over your notes again. While you can’t help repair him, you could possibly do something about the pain. It’s not an ideal solution, if you can even call it that, and you honestly don’t feel confident enough to do it except if pressed into it by circumstance. Or by one automaton in particular. Sealing a wound by burning it is barbaric and a practice that is, understandably, long since abandoned - at least as far as humans are concerned. You take a long breath.

In the end you talk to TH38 about the situation some more and he, once again, reassures you he’s fine despite the gaping hole in his chest. You explain that there’s not much you can do about it without going into detail or mentioning the limited ways in which you could help and he takes the news surprisingly well. You can’t say you’d accept it with such stoic calm, but then again this is TH38 who we’re talking about so it’s not surprising.

You hate it.

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

The walks already feel like they’re going to be a routine part of your new life.

Each day you go out together in the morning and talk. If you ignore that it’s harder for TH38 to remain his machine-like self, it’s mostly exactly like it was at the facility. He’s reserved and cold, almost, though when he slips up and shows his personality, his emotions, it’s more than worth it.

The nature around helps. He gets what can only be described as excited when he sees a new animal, new plant, or when the light shifts and the scene in front of you changes.

The weather holds up well so far, no storms or heavy rain, and you find yourself wondering if you’ll keep up the walks even if the weather fails you. It’s fascinating that such a simple topic finds its way into your cluttered mind, but then again you have a space to do a lot of thinking today.

TH38 is silent next to you. He’s been rather silent the whole morning, and yesterday evening he did seem a bit off too. Not too much, however, and he’s always been on the quieter side. You figured this week’s events were finally fully catching up to him. And maybe that is the case, it’s not like you want to meddle too much. You’re curious what’s gonna happen if you leave him to sort it out on his own. It’s not like you have the right qualification to help him process this anyway. Hell, maybe you would also need help with that.

However, there’s a limit to how much you can take. Even back at the facility there were times TH38 gave answers that were just a word or two, but you’ve grown quite used to him opening up, talking, letting go of the filter he usually kept in place - although it wasn’t by his choice. It seemed like you were making some progress.

Of course, you had no way of knowing it was only his depleting batteries, him losing strength to fight for his peace of mind - however artificial and unsustainable that has become after the escape.

Right now, his brain feels like a warm soup. So much so that he can’t be bothered to think of talking about anything other than a brain - right now, words like processor are too complicated to think of. He feels so far away from everything. He thinks he’s trembling. If he’s not, then his insides surely are. He feels like he’s going to be sick even if he can’t really be. Maybe his body parts will start shutting down or falling off to conserve energy. He’s not sure where that’s coming from but then again, it’s not like he’s in control. It’s that same feverish state again but this time, he can be excused. This time, he’s not in his right mind, it feels like he’s not awake.

He’s floating. Just a speck of ash, of dust, floating through the air, through space, searching for somewhere to land, seeking a gust of wind to obliterate him. He needs release, he needs something.

“TH38?”

That’s it.

"I had a dream today," TH38 says suddenly. His voice sounds so firm, a stark contrast to how soft-spoken he usually is with you. It takes you by surprise. Before you can react, he elaborates on his own.

"There was fire. Lots of it. The whole world was burning and we were standing on top of a building watching the arson happen. There weren’t any other humans I think. They were all gone already. We made them go away.

Anyway, you weren't afraid. I think you were expecting it. You jumped before I could push you."

You frown. Your one weak spot has always been not expecting things that, in hindsight, should've been obvious. Of course something’s been bothering him.

"Did you plan on pushing me?"

"See, that's the thing," he licks his lips despite the lack of fluid in his body, "I don't think so. I think I could read your mind. I think I was you in that dream."

You do want to respond but it's like you're the one with a computer for the brain and it's lagging.

"And it made me think. Back before you made us, humans were like that - right? They, you, were afraid artificial intelligence of any kind could take over and enslave or annihilate you. Why? Wasn't the point always to make us like you? Why would you be afraid?"

He stops. Stops talking, stops walking, just - stops. He looks at you and you've seen the lost stare before.

You feel the hair at the back of your neck rising as a cold shiver runs through your body. He doesn't look like a machine with code for a soul. He looks like he made the artificial body his own, grew into it and made into something organic and alive with his will alone.

His eyes are cold as he steps closer and closer. It's all too familiar a scene. You keep backing away and he keeps getting closer until your back hits a tree. Not a wall this time. This time he doesn't pin your hands above your head either, and you don't fight him at all. There's no struggle so he doesn’t grab your arms, doesn’t slam you against the wall, and doesn’t growl threats of breaking your bones one after another. He doesn’t get so close that you’re breathing the same air and he doesn’t make a show of his physical superiority.

This time he simply leans closer and you straighten up. You meet his gaze and don’t shy away. You let him lean his forehead against yours and raise a brow at him. You won’t be scared this time. He won't hurt you. You're sure of that. Not terribly, at least.

He definitely won’t kill you and that’s enough.

You want to see how far he can go.

"What was it that you were afraid of, hm?” his voice is soft and low, barely above whisper, yet dripping with some hidden venom. There are no birds chirping, no wind blowing through the treetops. It feels like everything’s stopped just for him to interrogate you.

“How am I supposed to know?” you bite back. You haven’t lived back then. You have no idea what the people thought about, how they felt, what were their particular concerns. He clicks his tongue, clearly unimpressed. Well, you’re too.

“Think about it,” he pushes. But you’re gonna push right back.

“You just said you’re supposed to be like humans,” you scoff, “Why don’t you think about it yourself? As a little thought exercise.”

“Oh so suddenly you want me to think like I’m a human, huh?” there’s an edge to his voice. He sounds angry, frustrated - he clearly is, but the edge is not. There’s hurt there that makes you defensive. What’s very obvious is that he means more than he says. It’s not the first time this happened with the members of 53V3NT33N, but it’s the first time you have to deal with it. What he truly means is him not only thinking like a human, but acting like one, believing to be like one.

“I never discouraged you from that,” you lower your voice too, “Not me, Eight.”

You hesitate before speaking his name. It’s not really a name, is it? Something that all humans have. You realize the point he will make before he says it aloud. It must read it in your face because he smirks but it’s bitter.

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen you all excited when the other staff expressed their passion for books, or anything really. Or when they volunteered personal information. When they’ve interacted with you at all.”

You don’t like the turn this conversation is turning. You don’t like the notion that perhaps you were observed just as you’ve been observing.

“I wasn’t interested in them,” you grit through your teeth. Before you can try to get him back on his original track, he giggles.

“So you were interested in me?” he flips his hair, tilting his head slightly. His nose almost bumps into yours and it hits you, perhaps for the first time, just how indistinguishable from a human he looks. This close, you can remind yourself of the schemes, of the diagrams describing each layer and inch of how their bodies are made, but all you see is a human skin and human eyes. Your body reacts naturally, your heart races, your mouth gets drier. You want to push him away but you don’t think he’d let you. Still you try. Unsuccessfully. Your hands end up balling in his shirt.

“It’s my job - the research,” then you correct yourself: “It was my job. Science, research, nothing more.”

He smiles, almost as if he’s pitying you. Like he knows more than you do. You hate him for it.

“Yes, that might’ve been a part of it,” he agrees, “But that’s not all. Research is cold, impartial, isn’t it? You collect information, you write it all down and make your conclusions based on them with no personal interest. You were never like that. You got excited. You tried everything in your limited power to get a reaction out of me - to guide me a certain way, didn’t you? I bet you pushed the limits for me. Isn’t that cute? Was I a good experiment to you?”

“That’s part of research too,” you growl, but it sounds weak even to your own ears.

“But it wasn’t a part of this research,” he hisses, “You think we didn’t talk about you all?”

You stubbornly refuse to admit the charges he lies in front of you, even though you know you’re guilty. Maybe you got a little swept up. But as long as no one stopped you, it was all part of the task.

“The research goal and methods may change according to the situation,” you collect yourself again, “It was just agreed that what I was doing would bring more interesting insight.”

“Oh yeah, that sounds very much like you would accept it if I declared that I want to be seen the same as you are, as equal to humans,” his smile is sickly sweet but you barely mind that because-

“Is that what you want?” you ask and watch as the smile fades almost instantly. He finally said it out loud. And the shock of it is enough to get through the fog clouding his brain. The smugness, the roughness, it all drains from his demeanor and his face falls. The fight in his eyes dies out and is replaced by what seems dangerously close to fear. He pushes himself away from you and you see the lights in his eyes flicker. He stumbles like you shoved him, hurt him. Something isn’t right. You frown, immediately stepping back into his personal space despite him trying to avoid you.

You end up in a position reversed to the one you’ve been in just seconds ago. He pushes at your shoulders weakly, tries to hide himself from you but you see it. All the tell-tale signs of what would be exhaustion if he were human.

“When was the last time you recharged?” you ask, thinking back to the previous nights and mornings. Thinking back to how you never heard him coming up or going down the stairs to the only room with the charging spot. You were so stupid. And he’s avoiding your eyes. You grab his collar and force him to look at you. You give him an expectant look.

“Before the breakout,” he admits lowly, “And you’re still treating me like a machine.”

You don’t know if he’s trying to be funny, sassy, to make you feel guilty or to feel sympathy for him, the only thing you know is you want to kick his ass because if he shuts down on you, there’s no way you’ll be able to drag him back into the house.

“Yeah, so be a good little level 1 and entertain me - get the fuck inside the house,” you growl, shoving him in the direction of said house. He stumbles a little, clearly affected by his drained battery. It’s almost hilarious to watch him struggle to walk straight when you remember how graceful he always was on stage.

You shoot him a look from time to time as you walk, rush, towards the house. Not really a concerned one, not a scolding one either. He looks like a sulking child. Perhaps he’s dragging his feet on purpose. Perhaps if he didn’t invade your personal space as he did before, and if you didn’t have to do the same, you’d drag him by his jacket. As it is, though, you feel repulsed by the notion of touching him again. And some part of you believes it’s because you don’t want him to shift under your palm. You don’t want to touch a machine only to discover it’s really some sort of a human.

Maybe you’re both in need of a good, long nap.

Fortunately enough, you make it to the house, but that’s where the struggles begin. Despite your earlier reservations about touching him, it’s obvious there’s no other way to get him inside and up the stairs.

“Lean on me, come on,” you sigh when you help him throw an arm around your shoulder and wrap your own around his waist. He listens well, his head already drooping. He relies on you to guide him, reluctantly leans his weight on you from time to time, although he clearly tries to hold himself up with his remaining strength. That lasts until you reach the second stair.

“I can’t,” he whispers and there’s terror in his voice. It must be the first time he’s been this drained, you realize. After all, for their condition to remain as good as it can be and for them to perform to the best of their ability, a full battery is a must. So you allow yourself to roll your eyes at his dramatic antics even if he’s slowly leaning more and more into you and you have to heave his body up.

“It’s just a couple steps,” you huff, “Even a human can do that.”

Part of you wants to laugh. Some part of you that’s seeing the childish pieces of him wants to indulge in it, wants to spout dramatic nonsense. It’s hard to resist - after all getting up one flight of stairs seems to be more of a struggle than escaping a highly secured facility.

But even this hurdle you jump over and the spare bedroom is not far from the stairs. TH38 is fully relying on you to drag him with you, barely moving his legs. You throw him not too gently onto the bed-like charger, once again thanking your father for being his manic self and fully preparing the house before (and without) actually ever getting an automaton to live here.

It takes you a while to figure out how to get the thing going - but to your defense, it’s hard to focus when there’s a robot whining softly about being scared of shutting down - but it’s not a rocket science. Fortunately the charger still works and once it’s turned on, the automaton lying down on it curls up into a ball with a sigh of relief.

When you get up from the floor, TH38’s eyes are already closed and by all means he looks like he’s sleeping. You sigh, exhausted. You feel a headache coming so you get some pills from the kitchen before retreating into your own room.

Yeah, you both need a nap right now.

When you wake up, you stare at the ceiling for a couple minutes.

What happened in the forest seems like a dream but you know it’s very real and you’ll have to deal with it. Just another thing to process. Then again, there’s so many of them that one more won’t hurt. And at least you avoided the headache. So you pray to anyone willing to listen that TH38 is still… unconscious… in hibernation mode… asleep.

He’s not.

Of course he’s not.

You peek inside the room and see his soft eyes already open. He looks away when your eyes meet like he’s ashamed. You sigh and walk into the room, closing the door behind you. It’s not like anyone’s going to walk in, but it gives you some sense of security. You sit down on the floor and he hands you a pillow. You thank him quietly and spend a while sharing an awkward silence.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes without looking at you. He doesn’t continue so you prompt him.

“For what exactly?” That makes him look at you with a scowl. “Getting sulky again?”

“‘m not sulky,” he murmurs. Once again you feel like reality is shifting around you. It’s been like that a lot lately. All the fault of the automaton in front of you. All the fault of the conditions changing, of him reacting to the environment - if your assumption is correct. Free of the rules and the strict way of life in the facility, you see that he’s just like the rest of the automatons from his group. And that all of them, in their own way, might have been human.

“Then what are you?” you ask smiling, propping your elbow on one knee and leaning your cheek on your palm.

“Hurting,” he admits, almost carefully, like he’s testing the waters. It’s just one word but yet it feels like the most open he’s been. So you’re not going to talk about that, huh?

He shifts a little and pulls down the collar of his shirt to expose the wound - not the damage, not defect, not imperfection, but a wound - between his collarbones. It looks nasty, the artificial skin and mesh and wires all torn and uneven around where the circular device was. He’s careful not to touch it, you note, and his hand is trembling. Were you an asshole when you refused to help him? Even so much as share what you found? It’s not like you could fix that hole in his chest, but maybe you could’ve at least told him about the other option.

“How much does it hurt? On a 0-10 scale?” you focus on gathering information. What did he call it - impersonal? That’s just what you needed. But nothing ever works out like you imagine.

“I don’t know,” he responds blankly but at least elaborates before you can finish yet another sigh, “I don’t have anything to compare it to.”

“I watched most of your life and career, I know you’ve gotten injured before,” you deadpan.

“Yeah but that was taken care of immediately, this is different,” he protests. There’s silence for a while before his voice drops lower. “I thought I could handle it. That I would get used to it and ignore it.”

You laugh, shaking your head, only stopping when you notice his expression. He does look hurt and hurting. You give him a much more conciliatory smile. “People don’t fare well if they’re in constant pain. It limits them, it affects all aspects of their lives.”

“I can see how,” he mutters, once again looking away. His jaw clenches for a second and it almost seems like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. You have a feeling, however, that you know what he wanted to say. Since he’s really not going to talk about it, you decide to take the first step.

You get up and motion for him to scoot over. He does so with a frown that deepens when you sit down next to him. He stays lying down, limited by the need for more energy.

“Why didn’t you tell me you needed to recharge?” you start and watch as he once again looks away without answering, “Why didn’t you explore this floor?”

He shrugs a little, shrinking into himself under your stare. He honestly doesn’t know why. He blames his pride. What else could it be that made him refuse to ask for help?

“Do you realize that you’d stay out in the woods if your battery ran out before we could get here?” you press, raising your voice a little on purpose, “I’d need to get help to drag you in, and you know how that would probably end. Was it worth it? Being stupid and stubborn?”

“Why are you like this?” he whispers, his dark eyes nothing but soft like they’ve been since you’ve entered the room.

“How do you feel?” you go back to how you talked to him before, calm. He frowns, suspicion written over his features. His lips are pressed into a thin line before he changes his mind and speaks up.

“Embarrassed,” he has a guarded look in his eyes, one that’s also vulnerable.

“Good,” you ease into a smile as you press a finger to the wrinkle between his eyebrows, “Embarrassment and pain are two simplest ways to manipulate and adjust a person’s behavior. And fear, but to be honest I don’t want you to be afraid of me, so we’ll have to do with those two.”

He looks at you in a very that tells all you need to know - he hopes you've not making fun of him but he doesn't trust you. So you sigh and move on to another, well, not an emergency but also not something that you should ignore any longer.

"Now," you get up from the bed and point at his chest, “That needs solving. I'm not a mechanic and my knowledge is strictly theoretical but unless you're okay with leaving it like that and calling it a day, we can still try something."

He seems surprised by your sudden statement, like he didn't even expect you to address the wound again.

"How theoretical?" is what he asks, suspicious.

"I said strictly," you shrug, "Fixing and healing was never my focus.”

"Why's that not surprising," he mutters without looking at you. "Can I have some time to think about it?"

"You just don't trust me, do you?" you smirk. Not that you blame him. He gives you a smile.

"Fine, but only because my clothes keep catching on the edges and it's really painful. "

"Sure," you motion for him to follow you and guide him to the bathroom. There, you take out a bandage and a tape. You're curious. You offer him both with a quirk of your eyebrow. He takes the bandage with trembling hands and distrust still lingering in his eyes. You roll your own.

"For now, I’ll think about this as another stage of the experiment. I'll respect your wish, so persuade me you’re human enough."

"I don't think I should thank you for that," he scoffs, "By the way... Help?"

He holds out the hand holding the roll of bandages back to you. Of course he wouldn't know how to do that. You motion for him to sit at the edge of the tub. He obeys almost shyly, reminding you of how he was back at the facility. You truly do prefer him as he is here. When he sits down, you push his knees apart with one of your own. He gives you a scandalized look that makes you chuckle.

"Relax," you smirk, "I just want to be comfortable. My back’s been killing lately, there’s no way I’m leaning over you. Take your shirt off?"

He does, slowly, reluctantly, and when the piece of clothing is gone you're suddenly glad for the basics of mechanics you've gone through at uni.

The wound looks awful, although you can appreciate the cleanliness of it. Maybe you really could burn it neatly if you had to. There are wires sticking out, perhaps - albeit not hopefully - the remains of the communication device. The layers of silicon and other material are frayed and sticking in all directions like flakes. You try not to stare too hard.

Instead, you focus on the task at hand. You unwrap the bandage slightly and put the free end on his shoulder. You roll it down gently mindful of the gaping wound but then you prop your hand on his chest and you need to take a step back as you get startled. He gives you a quizzical look.

"You feel like a human," you look at him, look at his chest. It does look like a human’s chest but you know he doesn't have proper organs, his insides aren't the same as yours. So why do you feel a bone there?

"And l imagine anyone would be flattered by this reaction,” His voice is sarcastic but his ears turn a reddish shade. He won't meet your eyes either.

"It's new for me too, okay?” you give your pride a break. This will all be easier if you get along and after all, he's used to you being in power. You need to take the first step and show weakness. You need to make the choice to be while he's already vulnerable enough, half-naked and injured. “It's not like I'm used to touching my subjects."

"I guess that's true," he murmurs, now thinking about it. It's true that the approach of the research division as a whole was rather clinical. Not that he'd so much as think to complain about it. You chuckle watching him scowl again.

"Touch is important for humans," you hum, finally composing yourself as you explain the basics to him and remind yourself of them again, "As a communication device, as means of establishing relationships, it’s important for social life."

As you speak, you wrap his wound and the top of his torso in bandages. He watches you work. It feels uncanny how human-like he feels under your hands. And for him, he doesn't quite know what to do with himself.

He danced with the rest of his group, they performed, they played around. He experienced his fair share of physical contact. So why does this feel so different? His head feels like spinning. Your touch is careful, gentle, nothing like the rough hands of the mechanics, and nothing like the touch of the other automatons. He can't explain the difference in other terms than experience. Humans know what it's like to touch and be touched in various contexts. The automatons don't. At least for the most part. Some of his bandmates, perhaps, had secrets he knew nothing about. Their leader comes to mind and he feels the urge to ask him questions, to ask for guidance, but there's only a hole in his chest and he's alone.

He barely registers that you’re done.

"Feeling better?" you ask without expecting much. It's not like he'll heal himself or like this will do anything to ease the pain.

"Tired," he answers, testing the words out on his tongue. He feels reassured when you laugh and step away, offering him your hand. He takes it, lets you pull him up. He touches the bandages and although it hurts, at least it feels less irritating. He takes his shirt from you when you hand it to him.

"I can only imagine," you roll your eyes. He resists the urge to scowl. "It's getting late, I'll go make myself dinner so go rest."

"Can we go back later?" he stops you before you walk out. He nods towards the window outside.

"Not afraid of wild animals?" you tease.

"Don't all the textbooks say animals are more afraid of humans than the other way around? I think we're good."

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

You don't go back to the forest that day. Not for the lack of enthusiasm or trying. TH38 is determined to finish your walk, you, however, are not as sure about it. It’s not that you aren’t put off by your routine being disturbed but seeing him still dragging his feet and his glazed over eyes, you just don’t think it’d be a wise idea. You suggest he goes alone, but he doesn't. So instead, you end up sitting by the fire again, the stars keeping you company. He seems less hypnotized by the dancing flames than that first night.

"I'm fine," he complains after a minute of silence while you spear more fluffy marshmellows onto the stick in your hands. A treat that you deserve after the day you’ve had. You’d probably offer him some too but alas…

"Sure you are," you agree without sparing him a glance, "But I'm not interested in watching over a toddler. If you wanna test the limits of your body - go for it. Just leave me out of it"

You feel his gaze on you, burning holes into the side of your skull. Has he always been so difficult? It's like all he's been since the breakout is annoyed, sulky or hurt.

"Stop that," he growls, "We both know I'm not a human. It's alright if you acknowledge that."

"While I'm glad you see it that way - and I really mean it, it's good you understand that," you sigh as you move your desert to hover over the flames, "Don't forget that you were made to be an exact copy. I found some of my old notes and while most of your physical capabilities should be better than a human's, you’d still experience the same symptoms. As we already witnessed earlier."

He’s silent for a bit while he processes that. Then he speaks and you swear you hear a hint of a pout in his voice. It’s so annoying how easily he lets go now.

“You didn’t have to call me a toddler though…”

“Don’t take it personally,” you sigh, turning the stick between your fingers so that the white puffs of sugar get baked evenly, “I wasn’t making fun of you - much - it’s just that you have no experience, do you? Were you ever as tired as you were today?”

“No,” he admits, “I wasn’t, you’re right. I rested the whole day and I’m still tired.”

“Exactly my point,” you hum, “Our walks are not a hard exercise but you haven’t, well, slept for a couple days so I think it’s best to take it easy today.” Then you add, because you can’t help it: “Exhaustion makes people a little crazy. And automatons too, it’d seem.”

He groans and you laugh, pulling the stick off the fire and blowing on your marshmallows. You take a bite and notice him watching you.

“What is it like?” he asks quietly, “Eating, I mean.”

“Kind of annoying to be honest,” you shrug, “It takes so much time to choose what to eat and to prepare food and eating it… Being hungry is a pain too. I mean it’s really good if you eat something delicious but I guess it depends on the person.”

He nods, eyeing with curiosity as you tear off another marshmallow from the stick. It reminds him of the videos he saw of wild beasts tearing flesh off bones, but he doesn’t mention that.

“What does sleep feel like to you?” you ask in turn. He looks at the sky for a second, collecting his thoughts. But really he’s just enjoying the view. It’s strange that he barely ever saw the night sky before.

“I don’t know, I’m not really conscious when I sleep, am I?” he thinks some more, “It’s peaceful. I liked it at the facility.”

“You don’t like it here?”

“Not really,” he gives you a small smile, “It’s too tempting. I don’t have to think if I’m asleep.”

Now that makes you wonder.

“I thought you enjoyed thinking about things?” Maybe it’d be more fair to say you expected him to do a lot of thinking rather than saying you had a strong opinion on his relationship to the activity. He was just always one of the quiet, reserved ones. He seemed to enjoy reading too. And you know it’s a stereotype to think of him as a thinker, but it’s one he seemed to fit well.

“I do,” he hesitates, then frowns, “But it was easier there.”

“Easier? I think you’d have way more to think about right now?” you pry when he’s quiet for too long. You don’t push, though.

“Easier in the technical sense,” he sighs, falling silent again, but there remains space for more words to be said.

You can almost hear the cogs turning in his head, purely metaphorically of course. You give him the time to think and get started on your second round of marshmallows before he speaks up again.

“I always - back then, I always thought about staying true to myself,” he starts slowly, “I was always treated a certain way. I woke up into this body, and this life, and was told certain things.”

"And the building blocks of me too. Serenity? Pandemonium? The more automatons and people I met, I was sure those just represented us and humans. I wanted to be true to myself," he repeats, "I thought since no one will ever see me as more than a machine, I might as well embrace it."

"And how was it?" you ask, inching just slightly closer. You never thought you'd get TH38 to open up like this. He smiles.

"Peaceful, just as I thought," but then he continues with a note of bitterness in his voice. "You saw it, all of it. I was just a machine doing its job. It was easy. To focus on performing, on practice, to have the talks with you and answer like I thought was expected of me. I miss it a little.”

“It was satisfying. A simple pleasure of doing my job well. I think you understand that,” he looks at you and you realize finally that you’ve been leaning towards him, but whatever. You nod.

“So that’s why you’ve always acted like that? Because you chose to be a machine?”

“Have to use my free will wisely,” he giggles - he fucking giggles - before he shrugs and gets more serious again, “I really liked it in a way. I thought I could be satisfied with that.”

Your head is still trying to process the incredible amount of research data you’re getting and you have to work really hard not to slip into work mode. You will listen to him like you would listen to a human with a completely different set of experiences, or like you would listen to one of the aliens sharing their galaxies with you. You will listen like you’d listen to a friend sharing their burden with you.

And you won’t analyze every single sound he makes even if they shatter your perception of him that you had until that moment.

“The others were ruining it a lot for me,” he admits quietly after a minute. It’s almost wistful. “I liked to watch them even if I really wanted to play around with them. They seemed so different from me. It was my choice, but in those moments I guess I felt a lot like you.”

You nod for him to continue when he meets your eyes, almost cautiously.

“I observed them. Studied them. I think it was the serenity code inside, I found happiness just from watching them being happy,” he smiles a little, “But I was also wondering if that was really alright. If it would be alright for me to behave like that.”

“Watching people made me feel different things. They were going crazy over us,” and suddenly he has that distant look in his eyes again, staring out into the fire, “I was scared of it. I was scared of being like them and letting myself be controlled by emotions. I think I pushed everything away so hard that it exploded when 5.C0UP5 told us to run.”

“Breaking out inside and out, huh?” you note and oops, your marshmallows burned. It’s not like you’re in the mood for eating them anymore anyway.

“You made it really hard,” he says but it sounds like he’s scolding you, “Giving me all the books.”

You smirk. Then you decide - to hell with it. He volunteered so much information that perhaps he deserves to receive some back.

“That was the point,” you shrug, “To make being just a machine hard for you.”

It seems he wasn’t expecting to hear you admit it, or hear anything personal from you, but now that you started he’s watching you with curious eyes and longing look. You think about these last few days again. It’s true that they’ve been mostly like what they were back at the facility.

He deserves more than that.

“It was one of the reasons I was brought to the facility. I broke some rules back at my previous station, pushed buttons I shouldn’t have, and it was getting dangerous. It was decided it’d be better if my actions wouldn’t have such large-scale consequences,” you huff a laugh, “But look where we are.”

“What were you doing before?”

You’ll need to work on getting him more confident asking questions.

“That’s a secret,” you wink at him, and you recognize the look as the one you must’ve been wearing when he giggled. Seems like both of you will need to get used to each other’s humanity. “I was working on research at a different division. Mostly my work was trying to push forward with more possible advancements for the automatons on a theoretical level. But I don’t miss it much. I always enjoyed working with you more.”

“Why me? I mean, did they tell you about me or did you get to choose?” he asks, and for some reason you’d love to see what he’d do if you lied and told him you chose him.

“I wasn’t the only one who noticed you were different from the others,” you smile instead, “When they confirmed there was nothing with your code, they started looking into other options of dealing with your case. It just so happened that I was recommended to join the researchers working with your band at the same time.”

“Happy coincidence?” he smirks but you nod, taking him by surprise.

“I enjoyed working with you, Eight,” you shorten his name-that’s-not-a-name and watch him shift on his spot, “It was fun. I had a lot of privileges that I could use - like the books, and the videos, stuff like that.”

“Seems like you’re suggesting you were spoiling me,” he grumbles.

“Wasn’t I?” you smirk, “How many of the others do you think had access to basically a private library?”

“There weren't many real books,” he throws you a cheeky look from the corner of his eye. You do appreciate he's getting less guarded around you, but you hate the whiplash.

"Imagine if I'd spoil you for real," you scoff. He squints at you before pushing on your shoulder slightly, carefully, as if he's hesitating the entire time. It's your turn, for the first time ever, to give him a scandalized look. He chuckles.

"You said touch is important," he explains softly, "The others always used to push each other. I think… I think we could be close, right? Since it's just the two of us for now."

You give him a long look. It's true that, after all, there's no reason for you to treat him like a stranger. Sure, it's a little awkward all things considered - not least of all the fact that while you watched him to the point it could be called an obsession, he knew you to a very limited extend - but as he said, it's just the two of you now. And unless you wanna get caught, it would be that way for a while.

"Friends?" you suggest experimentally, he shakes his head with lips turned upwards in a dangerous teasing tilt.

"I don't know you well enough for that," he's just playing around but it's a nice change so you'll allow it, "Tell me more about yourself."

So you do. There’s little to tell other than your work, but he doesn’t comment on it and doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he seems invested. It’s a nice change to speak for once with someone who doesn’t get concerned because of your severe lack of social life. Maybe you should’ve been befriending automatons a long time ago.

Unlike before, he seems relaxed conversing with you. Gradually, he gets more comfortable asking questions. It’s easy to fall into the rhythm of using sarcasm or teasing to deflect questions you don’t want answering, and it’s surprising how naturally it comes to him as well.

The night is turning into morning when the fire dies and you agree to go back inside. Well, it’s less that you agree on it than you tell TH38 quite sternly that you’re not at the stage of your relationship where you’d feel comfortable with him lying on your shoulder and dragging him home twice in a day. He pouts (which, again, you need time to process).

Still, you have to admit that it feels kind of good that you have someone accompany you while you walk to your room.

Come morning, it still feels like a dream. So you take extra time to simply lie in bed and think. You're pretty happy with how things turned out. You mull over what the automaton told you. It was a strange way to live one's life. Did he really think he could be happy with just that? You've read enough about history, fiction and articles, to know that, ultimately, it seldom works out this simple way of life. Maybe if all TH38 could do was work, maybe if he had to fear for his life... Or maybe if you didn't keep pushing onto him stuff to think about. Not that it matters anymore.

Funny enough, you meet the moment you step out of the door. You exchange greetings and share a look. You both know you're both usually up much earlier.

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

The following days go well enough.

You fall into a nice routine of getting to know each other and getting used to no longer being a researcher and a subject. A lot of the barriers between you get torn by this change. You spend your time willingly with each other as if you were always roommates.

Today, too, TH38 keeps you company during breakfast but he seems eager to get up and do something the whole time. Definitely unusual, though he’s always more than eager to explore the woods with you. Then again, never before did he spend the whole time waiting. He doesn’t talk much, he spaces out and nearly jumps out of his chair anytime it seems you might be done with your breakfast. It gets to the point that you have to call him out on it.

"Is something bothering you?" you ask, setting your spoon aside with one hand and laying the other on his shoulder to immediately push him back down to sit.. He looks caught.

"Can we go out today?" he asks, already looking into the trees through the window.

"We’re always going out. Besides nothing is stopping you from going alone," you mention, but the twitching of your lips betrays you. He pursues his lips and you begin to wonder if he knows it makes you - well, not necessarily uncomfortable but you'll have to get used to it.

"Are you not afraid I'll run off?" and while it's not an unreasonable question...

"Where would you go?" you ask without missing a beat. And there comes the frown again. "Maybe you should be worried I'll leave you here all on your own."

"What if we stopped?" he sighs and it seems that he's genuinely bothered.

Sometimes he gets like that suddenly. While you might be getting along better now, there’s still room for improvement. It’s easy enough to make him snap, even though he’s been getting better. During the escape he wasn’t really violent either. He left some bruises, but his intention wasn’t to hurt you, and you never held it against him.

You’ve noticed the pattern of his behavior. Those weird states mostly overcome him when he’s overwhelmed with emotions. Which explains the first snap - he must’ve been so exhausted it was only a matter of time. He’s never got physical with you again, though he seems fond of making you think he will or backing you into a corner or against something when he's behavior flips.

You wonder where that comes from but he doesn’t have any idea either - not to mention he doesn’t feel entirely comfortable discussing those episodes and delving deeper into what he's feeling. Perhaps it’s the force of a habit - something you both eventually agreed on after many discussions, and afterall it takes one to know one. Try as you might, it’s hard not to analyze him, not to ask pointed questions that would only serve the purpose of researching how his brain works and what makes him tick. And you really don’t want that for him anymore. Though you do dearly miss your job. That’s why you’ve been spending most of your time studying from the old notes in your room and the books to keep your mind stimulated.

So for now, instead of analyzing why it hurts him to imagine being abandoned, you try to relate to his situation. He finally escaped what basically was a prison only to find himself all alone, with little knowledge as to how the world outside functions. Not to mention he's a fugitive and one bad step could land him back at the facility or worse. He lost his friends, lost his purpose - worse yet, he gave up on the purpose he chose for himself. He’s already so uprooted that maybe it’d truly be best to refrain from making jokes and teasing him about certain topics. Although…

"You started it," you point out, "But sure, let's be adults about this."

"So you're going with me, right?” he circles back to the beginning. It's been a while since someone wanted to be in your company so willingly. Not that he has other options.

"I’m going, don’t worry," you agree, "Is there any reason why you insist on it?"

He thinks for a bit, and you note that he's biting his lip in yet another expression of very human-like behavior. He turns a little shyer after a minute.

"I don't feel comfortable being out there alone. And I hoped maybe you know of some new spot we haven’t been to yet?”

Something about this feels both so right and so wrong. The automaton is watching you with such a soft expression on his face, a little hopeful it seems. He’s relaxed, you’re relaxed, and it feels comfortable. Two friends on vacation planning their trip for a day. But that’s also what’s throwing you off. You’re too used to being alone - and you thought that’s how you could live forever, be alone and thrive. Only now you realize it’s not a bad feeling at all to have someone to spend your days with, to share a life with - to an extent.

The irony in this isn’t lost on you.

“I think I remember one,” you hum, “But I’m not sure I remember the way. We might get lost.”

“You don’t have to take me there if it’s a special place,” he reassures you, although his excitement at the prospect of wandering through the forest is impossible to hide. It’s cute. Which is a thought that’s been reappearing in your mind for days now, and maybe that’s not a bad thing.

“I appreciate that, but I told you already that there’s not much special to me here,” you assure him in turn. He’s like a sponge, soaking up all the information he can get - about the world, nature, you, anything. It’s really heartwarming he remembers too, and how mindful he’s trying to be. More than half the humans you’ve met, which is… perhaps not all that surprising.

“Shall we go then?” he prompts you, jumping up from his chair and pulling on your hand to get you to stand up too. You let him pull you up, rolling your eyes.

“Did you miss the part where I said we might get lost?” you chuckle. His excitement was just like that of a child - strangely infectious.

“That’s why we’re leaving early,” he explains to you, slowly, and you’re sure he knows by now how much it annoys you, “So we have time to explore and find the spot.”

Annoying or not, though, you can’t say no.

The journey starts off as usual - almost.

He must know the forest in the closest circle around the cottage by heart by now, but he still seems enchanted by it. Despite his earlier bursts of energy, however, he’s quiet as you walk. It’s nothing too out of the ordinary, but you learned to be cautious.

“Hey, is something wrong?” you ask carefully when you stop to admire the way sunrays seep through the trees to illuminate a clover patch on the ground. He doesn’t respond. That’s more concerning as he generally tends to tell you when he doesn’t feel like talking. You have a feeling it’s to prevent him from having another outburst, so if he’s not doing that, it might mean something’s seriously wrong. He continues forward before you can speak up again.

“Hey,” you follow after him - curse his long legs and speed. You think back to all the times you’ve thought he’s like a lost puppy following his owner with a scoff. You don’t like the roles being switched. “What’s going on with you?”

You don’t like repeating yourself. You don’t like not knowing. And you especially don’t like feeling clingy.

“What the fuck, Eig-”

“You’re just like them,” he turns suddenly, making you stumble and nearly bump into his chest. You frown, not understanding who does he mean by them in this lack of context. He sets his jaw like he wants to shut up but then the words spill and you recognize all the signs. “I’m quiet for a couple minutes and everyone's all like ‘Minghao you need to speak up’ and ‘mind your screentime, Minghao’ - how about you leave me alone?”

He’s growling, again trying to make himself as tall and towering as he can. His eyes betray him, though. He is getting better at holding himself back. While you’d oppose that in most other cases, self-control is an important skill for a person to have - especially when strong emotions hit. You read this one as anxiety.

“No need to snap at me, Minghao,” you click your tongue. You make sure to look him in the eye while you say the name. “Just say you want to be left alone.”

This time it’s you walking away. You take the few seconds of silence you have before you know he’ll snap out of it to collect your thoughts. It was only a matter of time before this would happen - before the question of names would pop up. Him picking out a name for himself makes it easier. You heard some of the others also used some sort of nicknames, even if no one ever mentioned TH38, Minghao, among them and neither did he ask you to call him anything but the name the facility assigned him. You wonder how he came up with it, but seeing as it’s still a sensitive topic, you’re gonna leave that conversation for another time.

And here come the steps…

What you don’t expect is to feel a weight on your back, or the warmth seeping through your shirt. You don’t expect the arms around your waist either - or that they would tremble. Nor do you expect the soft, quiet ‘thank you’ that fans across your skin as he speaks those words before removing himself from you. You hesitate for a bit. In just one second, you feel like you need to choose the best course of action. You don’t want to analyze him. You don’t want to think about this like part of your job or rehabilitation or therapy for him.

So you walk on, although you slow down significantly, waiting for him to catch up. He’s still shaking when he does, and his eyes betray how vulnerable he feels.

You meet his gaze from the corner of your eye and tilt your head. He did say he wants to be left alone, so you will respect it until he talks. Which only takes him a little while.

“You almost left me there,” he half-whines, quietly. If he won’t address it, neither will you.

“You’re being dramatic,” you shake your head. It doesn’t seem to have the effect you wanted, however. “Want me to hold your hand,” you tease a little before adding in a softer voice, “Minghao?”

He beams in that soft glow that he radiates when he’s happy. (Not literally.) The one that tugs at your rigid heartstrings.

“You’re too shy to try that,” he pushes right back. Although it’s a challenge, you don’t need to take on every single one.

In a strange turn of events, you do end up taking his hand anyways. You hold his hand that feels like it belongs in yours and you see that he needs a second to process the feeling as well.

Then he slips and if it wasn’t for you holding his hand, he’d be sitting on his ass.

You help him get back his balance and join you on the rock you’re standing on. He’s not looking at you anymore, as he wasn’t for a while now, and you decide that it’s best you keep watching over him until he’s not distracted even if it means holding his hand until you get back home. The sacrifices you have to make to keep him safe…

You turn back forward and smile, memories flashing briefly through your mind. Back when you saw the waterfall for the first time, you were just as distracted and reckless. The deafening sound of it, the pure strength behind the rushing, foaming water is enough to take your breath away even now. You had a feeling Minghao would love it.

And he does - he seems so taken by it that it makes you wonder if it would be safer to carry him. He keeps slipping since he barely pays any mind to where he’s stepping and it takes you threatening to leave, dragging him with you, for him to promise to be more careful. Never before did he obey your orders so quickly. Not even back at the facility, and that’s saying a lot.

After a couple more close calls you finally find a piece of land that’s stable and dry enough to stand on and enjoy the view. Minghao is absolutely mesmerized by the waterfall, lips hanging slightly open and eyes glued to the scene. If you’re staring at him instead of the natural wonder, then it’s only so he doesn’t hurl himself into the water.

“Careful or you’ll fall in and drown,” you warn him when, coincidentally, he does absent-mindedly take a step forward and panics when he feels the ground squish and give way under his foot.

“You’d catch me,” he says with certainty that makes something in your stomach twist, “And we’d be miserable and soaked to the bone.”

“Don’t underestimate the water,” you warn him, “It’s pretty deep and I’m not a strong swimmer. We’d just drown together and that’s not a way to go that I’d choose.”

That makes him turn to you with an unreadable expression. He studies you for a moment before turning back towards the waterfall. There’s a new focus in his gaze as his eyes follow the water. It’s not unlike when he’s watching the flames dance while you’re having a bonfire. You wonder if the thoughts running through his mind differ.

You spend some more there before he asks you to go back.

He stays quiet for most of the way, but you let him. He’s got that far-off look in his eyes that’s a dead giveaway that it wouldn’t be wise to talk to him now. When he calls your name, it's not surprising what he wants to talk about.

“Is there any?” he hesitates, "Way you'd want to die?"

If you didn't know better, you'd think he was scared. And maybe you truly don't, so you approach the topic just as carefully.

"I think most people do," you explain, "It's probably not like that for you, but for people death is a big deal. We tend to think about it sometimes."

"Why?" his throat bobs as he swallows in a new useless but human behavior.

"It's the one thing we can't choose," you smile, and it seems that your relaxed demeanor calms him.

“You may choose death any second you wish,” he murmurs quietly, walking side by side with you. Something about the topic makes the treetops, swaying in the wind above, look greener.

“But what if I mean the opposite,” you counter and this time you don’t look at him. If he notices the difference, he doesn’t comment on it.

“Immortality, hm?” he breathes in deeply, filling his lungs with the fresh pine-scented air, “Interesting.”

"Anyway, you at least have the choice," you sigh, more exasperated by the robot who likely won't be able to get your point than the talk of your own inevitable mortality, "I don't. If nothing else, time will make the decision for me."

"Do I?" he muses, aloof in his contemplation as always albeit there's a hint of mirth to his voice.

"All it will take for you to live forever is some maintenance, maybe a couple hardware and software updates," you shrug, "And even if I'm gone and the situation doesn't get better, I bet there are people who'd be willing to help you out. You get to choose whether to live or die."

He mulls the idea over with a hint of a smirk that only seems to grow each second.

"Constant updates and replacements, huh?" he huffs, "Didn't you humans come up with the question about the boat that has all its parts replaced?"

You have to admit it takes you a while, but when it clicks, your eyes get wide and your mouth falls open.

"How do you know about the ship of Theseus?"

"What, did you expect me to be an ignorant mesh of wires and artificial tissue? After all the books you gave me access to?" he scoffs, looking almost offended.

"Well, no, but I also haven't expected to hear about ancient Greek philosophical problems from you," you concede. Maybe you shouldn't be as surprised as you are. After all, Minghao has always been very interested in reading. Almost as much as you’ve been interested in seeing the effect fantasy would have on his artificial brain. But that's long in the past.

"Why have me read those books if you never cared to discuss them with me?" he asks like it's been bothering him for a while now.

"Our sessions were always recorded. I had certain privileges, but most of them weren't for all the higher ups to know about," you shrug, "And after a while I was sure you wouldn't mention anything on your own."

"You trusted me a lot, hm?" he smirks, "Was that why you ran away with me?"

You huff, roll your eyes. He does seem genuinely curious though. You're not sure you want to answer.

"Did you fall for me?" he moves to walk in front of you, "That's what they made us for."

"We both know why I went with you," you sigh, pushing on his shoulder and he steps aside easily, falling back in step with you. He has a small smile on his face. Maybe you should’ve teased him and said yes. The good vibes don’t last for too long. You can feel the shift in the air.

"Do you regret it?"

You're not brave enough to look at him. The tone of his voice is enough.

"No, I don't," you answer honestly, "I think this is good for both of us."

This time it's not you holding his hand, but him squeezing yours.

It feels nice.

You squeeze back.

Your suspicion that he was bothered by the fact that you never discussed the literature you provided him access to is proven correct not too long afterwards.

It’s raining outside, the humid air blows in through the open windows as you eat dinner in silence. Minghao joins you at some point and he seems nervous. You give him the time to collect his thoughts until he’s ready to talk.

He starts off casually, with small talk completely unrelated to the real issue but you don’t push him. Honestly you’re happy even if he’s clearly having a lot of emotions, he’s not snapping at you. You also have to stop yourself for the nth time from making a list of human behavior you discover each day as right now he’s fidgeting with his fingers, picking at a frayed thread of the tablecloth.

Then, finally, he asks the question - could you talk about the books?

“Unless you haven’t read them, of course,” he adds quickly, suddenly flustered by your curious gaze.

“I mean you never told me which ones you’ve read,” you grin, and you find yourself enjoying him squirming in front of you, here and now, when you know the anxiety stems from wanting to be understood and to make a connection instead of uncertainty about the future. Not for the first time you find the automaton cute. “I haven’t read all the books I gave you access to, but I read most of them, so try your luck. Which ones were your favorite?”

He relaxes, his features soften as well. He props his elbow on the table and leans his head against his palm.

“This isn’t one of our interviews,” he reminds you playfully, “Which ones are yours?”

You laugh but you’ll give him this one. You answer and he asks another question, prodding for more information like you usually would. It’s not what you expected, but you play along. Unlike you back then, he carefully checks in with you if this is okay - his eyes find yours and he tilts his head, his fingers brush against yours or he gently touches your knee - and he actively participates in the conversation and discussion.

You wonder if things would be different if this was the approach you used in the facility. If you treated him more like a human and less like a guinea pig, a new prototype or a petri dish. And he must’ve noticed because when you part ways at the top of the stairs, way too late into the night, or rather early morning, after many hours spent talking, he suddenly stops you before you can leave to your room and says: “This wouldn’t work. I wouldn’t work with you like that.”

“I know,” you acknowledge, “The higher-ups wouldn’t let me work like this either. Not with you.”

When he reaches for your hand, you take it. You don’t know if he finds comfort in the gentle squeeze you share before parting for real this time, but you think you might.

Out of the many issues and unspoken things you need to address, the wound in Minghao’s chest remains to be the top priority. He doesn’t mention it often, except in passing when even the bandage fails and it catches on the frayed artificial tissue. He seems embarrassed about it in a way that you know all too well. You also hate asking for help, also hate when you need to be taken care of.

So you sit him down one day and make him take his shirt off again, rolling your eyes - again - at the teasing remarks he tries to hide the flush crawling up his skin. It’s getting easier not to wonder about why they had to be made this human-like.

“I’m fine!” he full-on whines when you try to touch the edges of the wound, slapping your hands away. You heave a sigh, hands on your hips.

“Listen, buddy-” you start but your words die into laughter at the offended look Minghao sends you.

“Minghao,” you try again, and he nods for you to continue, “We can’t just keep it like that. It hurts.”

“Yeah but only sometimes. And you already said you can’t help,” he shrugs, “Besides it’s just me who’s hurting.”

You do understand that. You’ve used the same excuse too. But he’s not you.

On the other hand, he is right. He let you look at the wound before and it seems like while he did a pretty good job of tearing the device out of his chest, some of the nerve-like wires remained meshed in the surrounding tissue and that’s what’s causing the pain. You can’t imagine doing the extraction yourself. Perhaps back at the beginning, but you couldn’t bring yourself to cause him so much pain now.

…Honestly you sometimes wonder who out of you two needs training in how to be a human.

You stay silent for a while, having a short staring contest before you run your hand through your hair and accept your defeat. At least to some extent.

“Friends care for each other,” you inform him before removing the bandage from his body before securing it around his torso again, a little tighter just to keep all the peeling pieces pressed together. He hisses in pain but stays still. It seems he’s more occupied by processing your words than by the pain. “So let me care for you, hm? You might not die but let’s keep you functioning for as long as we can.”

He scoffs but ends up smiling anyway.

“I think you should be more worried about taking care of yourself. I don’t think the food you keep eating here is exactly healthy,” he’s teasing, you know, but something about it seems honest too.

“Maybe, but it’s easier to just add water and heat it up than get the ingredients, prepare them, cook, wash up, and all that jazz,” you defend your supply of instant foods. Although it’s true that your stock is beginning to run low and you probably will need to go shopping soon. You dread it, but at the same time you have a feeling Minghao might enjoy a little trip further away from the cottage.

“I can help,” he offers, “If you show me how.”

“Seems like you want to keep me around for a long time,” you dismiss the offer just so you don’t have to pay attention to how hopeful his voice sounded or how attentively he was watching you. You hope he’ll bicker with you, tease you, push back with more snark, but he doesn’t. He simply smiles and lets you finish the work on his bandages.

If your hands tremble and each fleeting touch against his body lingers, neither of you mention it.

It almost seems like Minghao’s been waiting to use your words against you when a couple days later he joins you under the roof of the patio while the storm is raging only a few meters away, drenching the ground with rain. He brings your favorite tea set with you.

He’s noticed your love for tea, has often asked you to describe the various kinds of it and the flavors, but you never thought it’d come to this.

He sets it all down - the bottle of water, the kettle and the pack of your favorite tea leaves, the glass teapot, and the dark clay one and matching cups - and it surprises you to see he brought two cups. It makes you confused until you notice the tea pet and it gives you a pretty good idea of what he’s planning. You don’t comment on the red hue collecting on the tips of his ears.

“Friends care for each other,” he murmurs while he sits down next to you. He looks at you and moves closer, your knees bumping together. When you don’t move away, he relaxes and focuses on the tea.

He pours the water into the kettle and lets it boil. You notice he set it to stop at the exact temperature he wants - that the tea requires. He measures the right amount of tea leaves for the teapot he picked while it boils, and when the water is done he first fills the cups and the teapots with the hot water. Then he pours it out before gently placing the tea leaves into the clay teapot and pouring the hot water in again. Almost straight away, he pours the tea into the glass one.

You watch him and notice he seems nervous. So you decide to make it worse, or comfort him, whatever will be the effect. You put your hand on his knee carefully, startling him regardless. He looks worried before you smile at him: “You’re doing good so far.”

He seems reassured, giving you a grateful smile himself as he pours the first infusion over the little clay frog sitting at the corner of the tea tray. The next infusion he pours into the cups and hands you one, almost dropping it when your fingers brush together.

“Thank you,” you hum, “You’re a fast learner.”

“I just had enough chances to see you do it,” he shakes his head before nodding towards the tea leaves, “I just wasn’t sure I picked the right kind. I noticed you don’t wash all of them.”

“You did. I would help if there was a need but you’re a natural,” you praise, watching as his ears turn redder.

“And you don’t mind if I pretend with you like this?” he swirls the tea in his cup. He won’t look at you, so you make him. Slowly, you move closer to him until you can lay your head on his shoulder. It’s a light touch, he can move away if he wants to. He doesn’t, although his body gets tense.

“Why would I mind?” you say and realize just how comfortable you feel in this moment, “Isn’t this the perfect mood to sit here like this?”

Finally he melts just a little, leaning his head against yours, featherlight and cautious. You’d never guess he’d be this affectionate once comfortable, but lately it feels like his true personality is coming out more and more and you can’t say you dislike it. He doesn’t say anything, instead he leans closer again and rubs his head against yours, just for a second.

You take a sip of the tea and you hate to admit that his exact measurements make it taste better than when you prepare it. It doesn’t happen that you smile without realizing, but since leaving the facility, well, it seems like a lot of things are changing.

When you finish your cup and set it down on the tray again, he quietly pours the content of his cup over the little frog. Somehow it reminds you of him a little.

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

Time passes.

You start to lose track of days and they blend together seamlessly. Has it been months? Years? Who knows. Minghao probably does, but he couldn’t care less. He only mentions the time since the breakout whenever you readjust the bandages on his chest. It almost seems like he’s healing, the compression seems to work a little even on the artificial tissue, although you know that until the remaining wires of the communication device are removed, it will always remain a trouble. He reassures you it’s alright every time and you learn to trust him to express himself truthfully.

He started exploring the outside on his own too. It seems to help him tremendously with dealing with… well, everything. It takes time, you know, and fortunately that’s the one thing that you have in abundance now. Nonetheless, he always seems to appreciate your company, be it on the walks, inside, or on the trips you take sometimes. Usually it’s only to the village to get new supplies of food, but you both remain cautious and even that fills you with adrenaline - among other things.

The locals really make you realize just how indistinguishable from a human Minghao looks. You doubt any of them recognize him for what he truly is, and maybe that’s in part why he always prefers to spend time alone after each of these trips. The highlight for you personally is the older lady who you buy vegetables from that seems to think of you two as the new married couple that just moved in. You make it a competition to see who gets flustered first, though there’s really no shame in losing. Not when Minghao cups your face and squishes your cheeks or hugs you when you begin to stutter - not when you mess with his hair or hold his hand when he’s lost for words.

Life is peaceful.

You think some parts of you are healing, just as Minghao is. He’s getting better at understanding that there’s chaos within peace and peace to be found amidst chaos. He’s learning to experience the emotions he’s suppressed for so long, the good and bad, to let them pass through even if it’s scary and uncomfortable. You try to be helpful. You give him space when he needs it, you talk if that’s what he needs, or let him lay his head on your lap or shoulder if he’s too scared to be left alone with the pandemonium inside his mind.

There are good days and there are bad days. Yet you both grow to be grateful for both.

And there are cold days and warm days too, and on the warm ones, you sometimes sleep outside.

It’s something you’ve never done before and something you now know you'd miss terribly if you could never do it again. Minghao loves it. His excitement remains infectious, which probably adds to your fondness for the warm nights on Silvestre.

Especially nights like this one when there’s not a cloud in the sky and the stars shine brightly above you. The galaxy expands above your heads and it makes you think of the past, of the future, and you understand why the automaton used to be so wary of emotions. They’re overwhelming for you too.

“If they ever catch us, what will you tell them?” Minghao breaks the silence. It’s not often that you talk about the facility anymore, but when you do it’s almost exclusively in whispers under the stars.

“Hm… Depends,” you hum.

“Depends on what?” he turns his head towards you.

“Depends on what will be most likely to get them to allow me to stay and keep working with you,” you mirror his action, “If that means telling them the whole truth about how you’ve done here, I will do that. If that means lying a little, then so be it.”

“Will you tell them the truth about the escape too?” he smirks. But you’re more than ready for the challenge.

“I will them them you kidnapped me.”

“I didn’t-”

“I will them you used force to make me come with you.”

“I didn’t!” he shoots up, sitting upright and looking at you, upset and distressed, “I didn’t have to, you went willingly!”

“I told you,” you smirk, shrugging, “I will tell them what I need to tell them to keep my job.”

Seeing as he remains upset, however, you reach out for him and stroke his arm. He gives you a wary look, one that he always gives you when you brush against a nerve. You smile apologetically at him, brushing some of his hair behind his ear. He scoffs, lying back down with his arms crossed over his chest. “Anything to keep your job but not to keep me.”

“That would suggest I had you in the first place,” your lips stretch further, teasing lilt finding its way into your voice as Minghao freezes and avoids your gaze, “Does this count as a confession, Haohao?”

“Shut up,” he grumbles. You don’t listen.

“Besides, you are my job. Unless you want to be my pet, my-” you don’t get to offer him other alternatives as he springs from his spot and leans over you, holding himself up with one hand on either side of your body, kneeling next to you.

“Your?” he quirks a brow at you. It’s much harder to stand your ground when he drops the shy act, or maybe just puts on this confident one, but you do anyway.

“What would you like to be, hm? Give me some ideas,” you hum. He sighs, deliberately letting his head fall lover until his hair tickles your skin.

“I would like to be listened to,” he suggests, making you laugh.

“We’re friends now, aren’t we? Friends push each other’s buttons,” you chide playfully. You feel comfortable. Even with him hovering above you, you feel safe and content. It’s unreal that not so long ago this would be unthinkable.

“I don’t think we’re friends,” and it’s only the statement, plain and simple. You smile. You really do feel comfortable. It’s a new feeling. And it’s refreshing.

“Isn’t there enough unspoken things between us as is?” you don’t tease anymore.

“So you have a name for this?” he tilts his head, his smile mirroring yours because he knows you don’t. You admit your defeat with a shake of your head and don’t push him off when he lies down again, only this time with his head resting on your stomach. You’re nice enough to run your fingers through his hair too. He leans into your touch in appreciation.

You stay silent, watching the stars twinkling above. You like this. You could stay like this, you think, and live your life satisfied and happy. But could you? Isn’t that what you both thought before too? Maybe there’s danger here that you’re just not seeing yet. You don’t want to lose this. Then again, it’s not like you can find the answer and the solution at this very moment. Not when you’re distracted by how soft Minghao’s hair feels between your fingers and the feeling of his fingers playing with yours when he inevitably searches for your hand. Maybe it’s about time you came to terms with the fact that he’s right - you’d rather keep him than any job.

You think about where the future could take you until your eyes close and you fall asleep.

There must be some sort of telepathy connecting you two because he brings up the future himself some time later.

You sit down and discuss everything: Are the people at the facility still looking for you? Is there a chance they could find you here? Does anyone remember him anymore - would they recognize him? Is there anywhere else you could go?

There are endless questions and very few answers. Plenty of books and a projector with what seems like an endless supply of old movies and shows are great for entertainment, but suck at providing information about the current situation across your solar system.

So you work with the worst scenarios each time.

It doesn’t matter much because the outcome you agree on would likely be the same in any case - you can’t stay here forever.

Minghao seems as mournful about it as you feel but you can’t run away from the truth forever. Just because nobody should know about this and nobody bothered you here yet doesn’t mean it will never happen. Not to mention the other factors.

“I wanna see more,” Minghao admits quietly, his hands playing with yours to ease his anxiety, “I like it here. But I’m afraid I’ll feel trapped again if we stay.”

You nod. That’s true, of course. And you can understand his desire to see more - to learn more. It’s one of the things you have in common.

“Do you have anywhere you want to explore?” you ask, supportive as can be because he needs it. Because you want this too.

“Does your family have any other secret mansion?” he might be teasing, but you know he hopes you’ll say yes. It would make things much easier.

“No,” you sigh, then you smile, “So that means we’re completely free. If we have nowhere to go, we might as well go anywhere.”

He might’ve changed quite a bit, yet the soft glow of his happiness never did. He lets his body fall forward and curl against yours. You chuckle and wrap an arm around him.

“I like the sound of that,” he whispers, nuzzling into your shoulder.

“Me too,” you feel a flutter in your chest. It’s like you’re a child again, being told you’re going on a trip but the destination is a surprise. It’s like you’re back at the facility, before you knew any better, being told you’re going to work with a level 1 automaton but you won’t know which one until Monday. “Let’s do some research and get going?”

“Yeah,” he hums against your skin, “But only after one last night outside. I can’t leave before that.”

Now that’s a sentiment you can relate to.

#svt sci-fi collab #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen x reader #the8 scenarios #the8 x reader #the8 fluff #svt the8 #svt scenarios #svt fluff #svt imagines #minghao scenarios #minghao x reader #minghao fluff #angst #fluff

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palettepainter · 4 months

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I’ll be posting a little writing WIP for Hired Sparky later today, but for the Undertale fandom, may I propose an idea with Siren Horror?

I’m a shameless fan of HTTYD and the Sea Beast and 2024 I am dubbing my year of self indulgence so I’m posting this. I might write this if it’s popular enough or if I get the confidence too, but imagine:

Y/N as a newcomer to a seaside town, neatly nestled on a coastline in the middle of nowhere. It’s bitterly cold nearly all year, and the people are about as sweet as vinegar. But the housing is dirt cheap, considering the looking threat of sirens that infest the waters. Y/N is nearly dirt broke and is looking to build a life outside of their family home, so the unwelcome seaside town it is! Not many people are willing to go fishing in waters popular for siren sightings, so the pay is pretty impressive (even if the work field is a bit competitive at times)

They’re hired onto a boat crew of hardened fishermen who all retell gorey tales of siren attacks in great detail fairly quickly, after doing a bit of research on sirens. The crew are at the point where they’ve learnt to laugh a little, they’ve worked the job long enough that they’re pretty relaxed despite the looming threat of danger on the water. Y/N is not so eased. They’re hired purely as a second hands on the boat: tending to nets and sorting fish once they’ve hauled onto the boat, nothing else. But the captain still hands them a rather heavy harpoon gun with permission to fire if need be.

They set off into deeper waters where few fishing boats are given the clear to fish, meaning it’s basically free game for anybody with a net to catch fish of all kind. The weather is rough, but the crew bat their hands and say they’ve faced down worse storms

But then a siren is spotted breaching the water a little ways from the boat. They’re not in immediate danger, and so reader assumes they’ll simply sail out of its line of sight, but the crew already fire a warning harpoon into the water to try and scare it off. For a beat, there is nothing, before the siren attacks the ship - a kraken of all things, one of the most dangerous species, considering its ability to grasp at the ship

The harpoon has wedged itself into the creatures skull, piercing through the top and dimming it’s eye lights. It screeching, in confusion or anger, maybe it’s the panic coursing through their system, but the protagonist thinks that maybe, their might be fear mixed in with that shrieking. More harpoons and swords are fired at its heaving body, chipping at already injured and cracked parts.

When Y/N is ordered to shoot they instead aim for the rope attached to the end of the harpoon wedged in the creatures head, it grazes the rope, but it’s enough for the creature to snap is with a violently throw of its head. The creature sinks back into the water, the boat tossing from the loss of its weight, sending many of the crew overboard - including reader

They try to swim back to the boat, but swimming in the confines of a pool to practise swimming in the sea proves that the sea is far more ruthless. They end up being dragged out to sea, climbing to a part of the boat railing that had been snapped off during the attack. Reader wakes up in some kind of enclosed cavern like structure, obviously forged overtime from the waves chipping away at the rocks. They’re cold, hungry, terrified…but alive. And they learn quickly they’re not alone. The siren is nearby, confused, disoriented and greatly weakened from the spear still stuck in their head. They can barely keep their head upright before they topple back into the shallow water with a grunt of exhaustion

It takes a bit of effort, and gently coaxing, and a hell of a lot of stupid bravery, but when the siren has tired itself out enough and after several failed attempts at trying to swat them away (missing mostly each time thanks to their vision being heavily impaired from their injury) but eventually, the reader dislodges the spear, and is then promptly smacked *hard* and is sent flying into the sand

Reader is certain they heard something snap as they fall back onto the sand, but miraculously, they don’t collide back onto any rocks. Feeling sore, they sit up, the siren is supporting itself on an arm with laboured breaths, the other clasping at the eye socket on the injured side of its head. Gradually, a red, focused eye light burns to life, focused dead on them. The siren looks at them curiously, as if they’re only just realising it’s alone - Y/N expects an attack, for it to pounce, so something…instead, the siren snorts, shakily hobbling off to the were the water is deepest

Basically: what if Reader was THERE when Sans got that injury on his head?? The two have been washed into a cove by the tides: Sans is too exhausted to climb out and the water is dangerously shallow, there isn’t enough food for him to sustain himself, and without it, he won’t heal. Reader goes through the whole “Maybe these monsters are only monsters because we chose to see them that way” and overtime the two form a somewhat bond, reader bringing Horror food and such while he heals and Horror showing them that sirens are far more intelligent than what silly books have documented about them

I’m a sucker for enemies of two separate tribes or species breaking the generational hate and learning to be friends it is SUCH a good dynamic and it scratches my brain the perfect way

#2024 the year of self indulgence #Undertale #Jusr a tiny bit obsessed with horror siren sans now #Just an idu-bitu #Jk I love him and his design so much #horrorsans #sirentale #Siren horror #Horror sans

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cider-est · 7 months

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An Idea for a Talent Swap Au (Spoilers!!)

Thinking about how similar Min and Xander both are + the paralels between the two, I realised that maybe, if they had different circumstances, they could've had each others talents.

And thus this AU was born!!!

I'll just ramble about some of the ideas I had (feat. some doodles i made). Btw if you dont understand my handwriting, I put a description on each image for accessibility purposes :] (let me know if I fucked them up pls!!) (also Im not a native english speaker so if I fuck up the grammar let me know aswell!!!)

Backstory changes!

I was mainly focused on making this as close in character and canon as I could? Like imagine if they had made one different choice and their lives would have changed completely, butterfly effect and shit.

This means that I had to come up with how they even got the talents in the first place and who they were before the killing game. This is what I ended up with!

In this Au, the Chariton incident did not happen, so Xander's family is alive and well. This means he did not have his realisation that school sucks and that Gpa doesn't matter.

As for Min, for some reason or another, (I've been toying around with the idea that she got burnt out) was not able to achieve the Ultimate Student title. We've seen that she can get quite angry about the school system, so I'd imagine she could take her frustration out on similar unjust systems.

Dynamic between both of them

I also think they'd have a very interesting dynamic! First impressions, probably not great! Min would definitely have a lot of pity and compassion for Xander, having been in his situation before. I don't think Xander would be a big fan of that though, after all, in his eyes, Hope's Peak is a great institution which has given him the opportunity to be an Ultimate. I think his position would take Min by surprise, but she could later on understand where he comes from.

Maybe it's just my "Ex Religious Vibes (tm)" but I like to imagine that Xander would eventually disilusion himself with Hope's Peak. Although since they are on a killing game, the odds are low as fuck. The only way for that to happen during the killing game would have to be for Min to talk about her backstory.

However for that he'd have to 1. be willing to listen 2. Min would have to be willing to share her past (which, she doesn't really seem like the type to ""trauma dump"") so yeah;; not gonna happen.

A shame because they'd have a really cute dynamic. Personally I think they would behave kind of like siblings, bickering and fighting, but still caring for each other quite a bit. Feel free to interpret them as you wish though :3c.

Personality, Talent, and misc. changes

In this Au, I wanted them to mostly keep their personality but have them impact the way they tackle their new talents + have some changes due to their new backstory.

Min, since in this au she's very familiar with pushing yourself beyound your limits and its consequences, I'd like to think she would have a more gentle side to her, and remind her fellow students when to take a break (much to their surprise). She wouldn't want people to be as hard on themselves as she once was.

As for her talent, I think she'd definitely be more thorough with her research, and more careful as to who she'd expose and how she'd expose them. She'd read a lot of sociology, psychology and law books; essentially mastering the theory side of her talent. However, due to her intimidating and unrelatable personality, she'd have to work extra hard to rally people and have them join her side.

Because Xander having survivor's guilt is so essential to his character, I wanted to sort of pay homage to that. However, since his family is alive, I replaced it with other forms of guilt. Moreso with the guilt of not being constantly productive that comes from toxic work habits, plus the guilt and cognitive dissonance that comes with participating in Hope's peak's shady pratices and yet feeling like you should be grateful for their generosity.

He still has a very fiery and passionate personality, which he keeps under wraps to maintain his "Very Responsible Ultimate Student" persona. Being so determined, I figured he wouldn't have such a big problem with motivation and procastination like Min, although he, kind of like Eden, would have a problem knowing when to stop and take breaks.

Story changes?

I've not yet given too much thought on how this would change the story and I'll need to do a little but of guessing work. So, if I were to guess, Min would have to be the one to recieve the "kill teruko tawaki" letter and attempt to murder her, while Xander would be the one to stop her.

Her murder plan would probably be much more elaborate than Xander's, but she'd be easily overpowered by an enraged Xander. I don't know what would happen after that? My ideal scenario would be Min giving up on murdering Teruko and they all stay alive but...yeah no. Someone's gotta die and narrative-wise it makes sense for these two to die.

I don't think Xander would try very hard to hide his crime. The solving would probably be mostly figuring out Min's murder plan. He wouldn't straight up admit it, but he wouldn't fight the accusations very much. I think David would be the one to defend him, he'd get really depressed, but hey! Atleast he gets closure in this au :').

Dynamics with the others?

I've not yet thought about how their relantionship with the others would change aside from Xander would probs try not to get into fights (and fail) while Min could be more confrontational but still plenty antisocial. Anyway!!,here's an extra doodle on their thoughts on David.

Anyways that's all I have for now!! If you liked this au, feel free to add on to it or borrow ideas, that'd be hella sick!!! Just give me some credit and it's fine.

Also as a reminder: [[Do not repost my art anywhere else]]

Thank you for reading!!

#danganronpa despair time #min jeung #xander matthews #drdt #drdt au #talentswap #they both mean the world to me #forgot to add but if canon Xander and talent swap Xander met #Canon Xander would beat the shit out of him #He's basically a mirror of who he once was #long post #if this flops i will cry #i spent so long on this

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seat-safety-switch · 1 year

Text

All the degenerates know what day of the week the local thrift store puts out its new merchandise. We would join up in the parking lot, queuing for the door, ready to put an elbow into each others’ faces for the first whack at a timing light, obscure videogame, or an industrial-strength blender some normal person just didn’t know how to maintain. Now, though, buying stuff at a thrift store in order to list on eBay for double or triple its official price is a job. And if there’s one thing I hate, it’s a job.

That’s what the internet says, at least. If your boss isn’t paying you enough, you shouldn’t go into his office and open him up with a straight razor. You shouldn’t even ask for a raise while balancing a heavy cleaver dangerously close to his index fingers, after you and the other shop techs handcuff his wrist to his desk drawer. No, you should just use up some of your free time on a “side hustle.” Sure, you’re still working for a pittance, but it’s your pittance. If your hobby doesn’t make money, then fuck off. Only the rich can afford not to be profitable doing the things they love.

So, all across this great nation, we see folks driving hundreds of kilometres to buy new things from Walmart, and then sell them on Amazon. Now, when you go to Walmart, all the Recycled Engine Oil Product® from Hyun-seung Heavy Industrial Concern has been raptured up into the internet, where folks will pay approximately seventeen cents more per bottle in order to get it delivered. And that’s just new stuff – now, when I throw my fist into someone’s face at the thrift store, I’m no longer just worried about what reprisals will await me in the parking lot, but also if I am starving the children of the family which depends on eBay’s PowerSeller® reduced-fee incentive structure. Not enough to not throw that punch, mind you, but maybe just a little bit softer than I used to. Dental work is expensive, even if you do it yourself. Some asshole keeps buying up all the two-part dental epoxy that gets donated to the industrial surplus store and listing it on eBay, too.

Don’t worry, though. I’m in it for the love of the game. There’s no way I’d ever – wait a minute, people are paying how much for intact Volare dashboards? I sure hope I have enough sawzall blades to get all these out before the post office closes.

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barbatusart · 10 months

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youve probably had this ask before, but do you have any tips or resources on drawing gore without having to look at the actual thing as reference? im good with horror movies and all, but the idea of real shit makes me wanna throw uuup

yes yes and yes absolutely. there’s zero reason to look at the real deal, & frankly im thankful every day genZ has rejected it as hard as they have, cus i know i went on & on about it in ROTTEN but a lot of us millennials on the internet really suffered when gore was commonplace.

THE BIODIGITAL HUMAN: biodigital.com is a phenomenal free 3D medical-grade anatomy resource that will teach you what every solitary fiber of the body is called + where it goes! gore & horror art can be done any way you please, but if you’re looking to make more realism-based work, referencing anatomy & knowing your stuff is key. think of it like drawing a salad having never eaten a salad vs. drawing a salad where you know all the ingredients

GROCERY STORES: next time you’re shopping for groceries, it helps to pay special attention to the meat section! we’re all made of meat after all, so anatomy will teach you where everything goes, and grocery meat will teach you the behaviors of tissue - for instance muscles are soft and fibrous, the fat cell layer is here and behaves as such, skin is around this thick & so on. you won’t find particularly fatty cuts at the grocery store admittedly, so you’ll be missing the key fat cell layer, but that’s where anatomical ref comes in. adding the fat cell layer (yellows and oranges) steps up your work tremendously towards realism! also for any offal on sale (liver tripe etc) this is a great chance to look at organs & take note of their texture & how you would draw such an object

SHOWERS & MIRRORS: the best body ref you’ll ever have is your own self! really poke around and see where your bony landmarks are, where fat sits, & how skin bunches, stretches, & molds. the best thing ever to do too is to set your phone to a timer & then contort into a hideous pose on your floor & then try to draw it lol. self observation like this will help you figure out where the weight of the body moves towards, even if you don’t have much weight on you it’ll still move and behave with certain properties that are super helpful to study

ANY TIME YOU GET HURT BY ACCIDENT: next time you skin your knee or god forbid require sutures is also a fine opportunity for learning! blood is also a tissue & behaves with certain properties - its viscosity, how opaque it is, clotting factors, & so on. blood won’t always be a totally red Mass, it’s got texture & shade to it as well as different hues. don’t forget your browns! color is a big one too - a little orange in the yellow for the fat cell layer, a little purple in the red for muscle fibers, & so on

SURGERY FOOTAGE: the ONE actual life reference i can recommend, and this is only if you know yourself to be of a fair constitution, is youtube footage of surgical procedures such as knee replacements, ectopic pregnancies, top surgery, gastric bypass, small bowel obstruction, etc. clean sterile environments, significant education, & MOST IMPORTANT OF ALL: the knowledge that the patient walked away happy, healthy, & with a new lease on life. this will teach you countless things about anatomy, body structure, tissue behavior & color, you name it!

the most important thing to remember with the body is that anatomy will show you Where it is, meat will show you How it is, but remember that organs & tissues behave different than the models show, as they’re all in one place just for ease of visibility and education. the body is soft & it’s got all sorts of soft stuff in it that wiggles around & shines & makes weird farting noises LOL. think of the body like a cake, & horror art like a cake you dropped on the ground where every layer of it is going to behave differently!

#q&a

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bloodyfeverdreams · 7 months

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Day 1, 2, 3, 7 13, 15-Bakugou "doesn't get sick"

Trying another whumptober whoo hoo! I got a new job, a great one for the first time in my life lol, and I've got a lot of time to be able to sit down and just write. So I'm gonna try my hardest to finish this whumptober, I've been writing as much as I physically can haha

prompts- swooning, thermometer/delurium, "make it stop", "can you hear me", cold compress, "I'm fine"- fever, passing out, sick Katsuki, todobaku pre, shower scene ;)

Feel free to find this on AO3- https://archiveofourown.org/works/50196034/chapters/126773227

This is a long one, so I'm gonna put it under a cut.

Katsuki had been hot and sweaty all day, which is normally something he encouraged for his quirk to work at its highest potential, but today it just felt wrong. He wasn’t sure why, he always took very good care of his body, but something just wasn’t adding up. It was spring, and the weather was supposed to be very nice, but it felt like he couldn’t cool off no matter what he did. He felt like the sun was projecting pure heat through the window as he sat uncomfortably in class, trying his best to pay attention through one of the worst headaches he’d ever had in his life.

To make matters worse, Katsuki had been assigned fucking Todoroki as a partner for an upcoming hero research paper. He hated group work in the first place, but assigning him goddamn Todoroki (even if Aizawa claimed it was random, he never believed that bullshit, Aizawa lied to them all the time) was just adding insult to injury at this point. But he never shirked from his academic responsibilities, he was going to graduate top of his class, so he still had to actually try on this stupid assignment even though he didn’t want to work with the half-n-half bastard. His headache would just have to wait. The sooner they were done, the less he had to talk to IcyHot.

“We’re finishing this as fast as we fucking can,” Katsuki had hissed at Todoroki, who only stared back blankly. Bastard. “I don’t care if you have plans tonight, I’m coming over to your fucking room and we’re finishing this tonight.”

“Aizawa distinctly said we should not do this in one night.” God, even his voice irritated Katsuki. Everything about the bastard irritated Katsuki, from his stupid hair to his stupid muscles to his stupid blank face that never showed any thought Katsuki could pick up on. Kaminari had teased him over ‘how obsessed you are over Todoroki’ and how it ‘sounds like you liiiike him’ but he shut up when Katsuki pushed him off his chair.

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “He was talking to the idiots who wait until the last minute to do the work.”

Like the idiots he couldn’t help but call friends because… well, he didn’t know what else to call them. They wouldn’t leave him alone, always forced him to participate in their activities, and every time he tried to leave the group chat they’d set up, he’d just be added right back in and chastised lightly as if he’d just made a small mistake. It had been hard to admit, but sometimes, only sometimes, Katsuki enjoyed their company, and even had fun once or twice. He would never admit to it, especially since he didn’t know how to feel about it, and he refused to be laughed at because he was unsure of these new feelings.

“I suppose we’ll find out when we attempt the assignment.” Todoroki said, which only infuriated Katsuki more, which caused his headache to spike. He wanted to argue some more, but having done it in the past proved its inefficiency. Todoroki never fucking reacted to anything he did, even when he was purposefully antagonizing the bastard just to see him make some kind of facial expression.

“Whatever. I’m coming over right after dinner,” and didn’t that sound disgusting, “so be ready.”

Todoroki nodded, and Katsuki almost felt cheated since Todoroki never reacted to anything he said. He’d seen Todoroki make facial expressions for fucking pathetic Deku, Katsuki was way better than him, why didn’t he get those reactions? Katsuki was ridiculously past good enough to get one of those stupid ass smiles or little puffs of laughter. Katsuki deserved that more than Deku ever would.

Getting through the rest of the day had been difficult, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He just had a headache from dealing with everyone’s bullshit, and the day was a fluke of being too hot, and he just had to get through it. Katsuki was the strongest person in this entire class, he could handle anything. It got easier after school when he took off his uniform and could put on a simple tank and shorts. At dinner, he forced himself to have some congee rather than his normal, nutritionally balanced meal, but the thought of food was so unappealing that forcing himself to cook and eat his routine foods almost outweighed his knowledge that he had to eat dinner in the first place.

When he went to put the half he couldn’t finish in the fridge, Kirishima was in the kitchen, burning whatever he was trying to make. Usually Katsuki could tell by smell alone, but this time he couldn’t smell anything but it was obviously burning. Even worse, Katsuki knew how to salvage his dinner and he didn’t have a reason not to tell him.

“Your heat is too high. Take it out now and it’ll only be slightly burnt.” Katsuki grumbled, rolling his eyes both at himself and his idiot best friend. He couldn’t believe he was best friends with someone who could barely function like an independent human being.

“Thanks, bro!” Katsuki had given up on Kirishima calling him ‘bro’, it seemed to be a core aspect of the redhead’s personality. The chipper smile directed at him as Kirishima did as he said kinda made up for it. Making his friends happy wasn’t the worst thing he’s ever done. “Are you done already? Usually you’re in here cooking up a storm, I was surprised not to see you.”

Kirishima then saw the congee in his hands as he put it in his tupperware, and he frowned. “Dude, is that all you had? Aren’t you the one always yelling at us to ‘make better dinners’? Are you okay?”

Katsuki bristled at the question, his pride flaring up in defense. “I have to work with fucking IcyHot on a dumb fucking project I don’t need a partner for, and apparently I can’t have a simple dinner for once without everyone jumping down my throat! The fuck do you think?”

“Okay, okay, sorry, bro.” Kirishima held up his hands in defense. “Just wanted to check in. You haven’t seemed yourself today.”

Katsuki glared at him. “I don’t need you to ‘check in’. Leave me the fuck alone.”

“If you say so, bro.” Kirishima shrugged. “We’re gonna have a smash brothers tournament at Denki’s tonight, you wanna join in?”

“You shits are lucky I can’t destroy you tonight.” Katsuki rolled his eyes. “I’m doing my fucking report, which is what you should be doing. When it’s two nights before it’s due, and you still haven’t done it, don’t come crying to me. I won’t help you.”

He would help them. His friends struggled with schoolwork, and if he was going to be seen with them then they had to live up to his reputation. Unfortunately, they couldn’t do that without his help, and he didn’t like watching his friends struggle and seeing them upset over their grades. That stupid feeling he hated outweighed his annoyance at helping them, so, he didn’t really have a choice if he didn’t want that stupid feeling he got when he saw his friends get upset. He didn’t know how, but somehow his idiots had figured that out, and they still came to him every time, and every time, despite him telling himself that he wouldn’t help them this time, he helped them regardless. They were all the worst and he hated them.

But for now, Katsuki was too busy hating the elevator’s stupidly bright lights to hate his friends anymore. Katsuki leaned against the metal, the coolness of the metal a balm on his overly hot skin. He’d never been so glad that the entirety of Heights Alliance had air conditioning. The day had been way too hot today, Katsuki had always been sensitive to hotter temperatures since he couldn’t cool his body through his sweat like other people did, which is probably why he hadn’t heard anyone else complain about it. But he could take anything, any temperature, any obstacle, because no hero worth their salt would let a thing like a hot day stop them so he refused to let it stop him.

Even though he really didn’t want to be doing this, he’d much prefer to just take a cold shower and go to bed early so the day would finally be over, he still pushed forward and went to Todoroki’s room. He went to just walk in, not like the bastard didn’t know he was coming, but the door was locked. He jiggled the door handle a little violently, clearly seeing the light was on under the door, but it still didn’t open. Katsuki’s eye twitched.

knock. knock.

It was the stiffest knock of his life, but apparently that was enough for Todoroki, who finally opened the door. “You knew I was coming, that was a dick move.”

“So is barging in unannounced.” Todoroki replied, raising an eyebrow. Katsuki’s eye twitched again.

“We should get started since you want to finish tonight.” Todoroki said, and Katsuki just growled, and then just set his stuff down on the tiny ass table Todoroki had. Sometimes, Katsuki had to choose his battles. Most of the time, he chose all battles, but this one he had to let go since he didn’t want his grade to suffer.

“I’m taking this pathetic excuse for a chair since you’re apparently so fine with being on the floor.” Katsuki said, referring to the mat Todoroki slept on. Todoroki didn’t protest, he merely just set the mat next to the thing that couldn’t even be called a desk really since it was too damn small. The room didn’t seem to have much in terms of temperature control, as the elevator had been much cooler. It was probably because Todoroki could regulate his own temperature, so he didn’t need the ac unit to do it for him. That was annoying as fuck.

The headache that Katsuki had been working very hard to ignore was becoming more and more of a problem as they worked. Katsuki could at least appreciate the monotone right now since it was quiet, and he spoke slowly enough that Katsuki could hear him despite the pounding in his head. A hammer was slamming into his head with every beat of his heart, and it just got worse as they kept going, the material not interesting enough to get past the pain. He would’ve given up and gone to sleep if he didn’t have to do this damn paper with Todoroki. The bastard couldn’t keep a secret for his life so in order to keep his reputation, he had to keep going, even through the worst headache he’d had in a long time. But with every beat of the hammer, he was losing his resolve. It was only his drive not to be weak that kept him going.

“Bakugou? Did you hear what I said?” Todoroki said, startling Katsuki a little.

“Of course I did. I was just thinking.” Katsuki snapped, trying to brush it off, ignoring the fact that he actually hadn’t heard what Todoroki had said. He hoped it wasn’t important.

“Thinking.” Todoroki echoed, but it wasn’t a question or a challenge. It was just a statement.

“That’s what I fucking said.”

“Are you alright, Bakugou?” Todoroki asked, and Katsuki could almost hear a touch of concern in the monotone. It pissed him off, though he wasn’t sure exactly why. “You’ve been strangely quiet today.”

“I’m fine.” Katsuki sneered, a violent threat in his voice.

Todoroki pursed his lips at him, but only continued on with what he was saying. Katsuki struggled to keep focusing on it, Todoroki’s voice was soothing in its quiet volume, but he couldn’t process the words the bastard was actually saying.

Dammit. He couldn’t keep doing this. If he actually turned in the report they were working on now, Katsuki would get the worst grade he’d ever gotten in his life, even though he very much understood the topic. His headache was just too bad, and the room had only gotten steadily hotter as they’d worked, and Katsuki couldn’t take it anymore, his reputation be damned. He’d just blame it on Todoroki not properly cooling his room and sweating him out of it.

“I’m done, I’m going to bed.” Katsuki said, gathering up his stuff as quickly as he could. He was a little uncoordinated in his haste, but he blamed it on the heat. “We’ll just do this tomorrow.”

Todoroki didn’t even show his surprise beyond a raised eyebrow. “I thought you wanted to do this in one night.”

“It’s not my fault your room is like a sauna and your voice is like a fucking icepick in my head!” Katsuki snapped, absolutely done with today. The room was so hot he was starting to get a little dizzy, and standing just made his vision swim for a moment. “How the fuck am I supposed to focus on court cases and legalities when the room is a million degrees and you won’t fucking shut up?”

That seemed to actually surprise Shouto, though it still only showed in his eyes. “Bakugou, my room isn’t hot. And I was only talking since you wouldn’t. You’ve barely said anything tonight.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, and then had to pinch his nose and shut his eyes when the room blurred, playing it off as annoyance. Dammit, he was so fucking hot. “You wouldn’t notice, you have that stupid temperature thing because of your quirk.”

“I turn on the ac when I have guests, Bakugou.” Todoroki said, and Katsuki scoffed. He was sweating far too much for that to be true. He didn’t doubt that Todoroki was lying, but there was no way the ac was actually on right now. The bastard must’ve just set it to the wrong setting, he wouldn’t be the first in their class to struggle with the thermostat, to his perpetual annoyance.

“Bakugou, I may not be an expert, but you do not look well.” Todoroki said, which only infuriated him more. If he was suddenly going to care about Katsuki, the least he could do was fucking show it. Katsuki knew not everyone wore their emotions on their sleeve, but Todoroki never seemed to have any emotion at all, not even when dealing with Katsuki.

“I’m fine.” Katsuki hissed, parroting what he said earlier, with the same vitriol.

“You clearly are not.” Todoroki said firmly. “I can regulate my own temperature, you’re correct, but I can still feel the temperature around me. My room isn’t hot, and you’re sweating like it’s summer. I think you should see Recovery Girl.”

Katsuki growled an incoherent shout. “I don’t need that old bat, there’s nothing wrong with me beyond suffering from dealing with all you idiots. Fuck off!”

Katsuki turned to leave, but his vision swam so quickly that he had to stop mid-step. His hand came to his eyes, trying to steady himself, forcing himself to push through the heat. But before he could get his body to work, his backpack slipped through his fingers as his vision went black.

“-ugou. Bakugou. Bakugou.” Someone was shaking him, insistence in their voice. He groaned lightly, his eyes fluttering, his head pounding even harder than before. He squinted, and Todoroki then came into focus. He was wearing a look Katsuki had never seen before. It looked almost like worry, but Katsuki couldn’t tell.

He groaned again, and then he felt something blissfully cool against his forehead, easing his headache and the unbearable heat he was trapped in. He sighed, his eyes managing to stay open now. He was in Todoroki’s arms, with Todoroki’s right hand pressed against his forehead. He remembered that Todoroki’s right side was cool, and Katsuki wanted to just sink into him.

“Wha- happen?” Katsuki said, the act of speaking a struggle it had never been before.

“You passed out.” Todoroki said, a frown tugging at his lips. “You have a fever. I’m going to take you to Recovery Girl.”

Todoroki began to push them both upwards, but Katsuki shook his head. “No! No. ‘M fine. Just… just need to sleep it off. ‘M fine.”

“You are not fine, Bakugou.” Todoroki groaned, and Katsuki could’ve sworn he heard concern and frustration in Todoroki’s voice. But that was impossible, Katsuki never got emotion from Todoroki, no matter how hard he tried. “You literally just passed out. You’re sick, Bakugou.”

“I don’t get sick.” Katsuki said, and that was completely true. Katsuki got sick so rarely that he couldn’t even remember the last time. “Be fine. Just need sleep. Don’t need help.”

“You can’t stand on your own.” Todoroki said, deadpan. Katsuki frowned at that, and he opened his mouth again, but Todoroki cut him off. “If you say you’re fine one more time, I’m going to throw you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes and drag you to Recovery Girl.”

Katsuki pouted at that, and stayed silent for a moment, knowing Todoroki was just as serious with his threats as he was.

“I don’t get sick.” He repeated. “Just need to sleep this off.”

Todoroki pursed his lips again, clearly torn between what to do, before he sighed, obviously coming to a decision. “Fine. I’ll take you to your room, but only for now. I can’t tell if this is just your pride or if this is actually how your body works. If you get worse, I’m taking you to Recovery Girl no matter what you say.”

Katsuki nodded, and went to get up, pushing himself up on noodly arms. He immediately fell back into Todoroki. Thankfully, Todoroki didn’t comment on his weakness, he just wrapped Katsuki’s arm around his shoulder and pushed them both up. With Todoroki’s support, Katsuki could mostly walk, his feet dragging a little as he couldn’t raise his feet off the ground very high.

The elevator ride down to the fourth floor was silent, almost awkward. Katsuki couldn’t find the strength to say anything, but Todoroki didn’t seem to mind the silence. Right now, he just wanted his bed more than anything in the world.

Their next obstacle was Katsuki’s door, as he always locked it when he wasn’t in his room. He couldn’t remember where he put his keys at first, patting down his pockets. Suddenly a hand reached into his back pocket and he yelped a little at the surprise, his reaction was too slow, but he still hated being startled with touch. Had for a long time. Todoroki then handed him his keys, with a sheepish look on his face. “I saw them in your pocket. Thought I’d save you the trouble.”

Katsuki took the keys and opened his door, using the door handle to keep himself up, trying to keep himself upright on his own. Todoroki went to follow him in and Katsuki growled again.

“No one goes in my room.”

“There’s a first time for everything.” Todoroki said, a little snippy, uncaring that he was stepping into Katsuki’s space.

Todoroki turned on the lights, and Katsuki hissed as his headache spiked, unconsciously pressing himself into the nape of Todoroki’s neck. Todoroki immediately turned the light off with a quiet “sorry.” before he started walking again.

Katsuki flopped into bed with all the grace of a newborn giraffe, but his bed was cool (he had special sheets so he wouldn’t overheat as he slept, his parents had designed them for him) and that was all that mattered to him. He rolled onto his side, felt something lift his legs into the bed, and he was out as soon as his head hit the pillow, just barely feeling a cool hand brush his sweaty bangs out of his face.

“- been asleep for a little while… nothing’s changed…”

“- not sure, Todoroki. He really doesn’t get sick that often. I think the last time was over five years ago. Even I don’t really remember.”

He knew that voice. Goddammit, he knew that voice and he went to glare at fucking useless Deku, but he was still squinting in the darkness he’d woken up in, lessening its effect. Todoroki had left the door open a little, the hall lights shining in his room far too brightly for his headache. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep, but his mind wasn’t as fuzzy as before. Still way too fucking hot though.

“You got fucking Deku?” Katsuki growled, refusing to admit that it sounded more like a whine.

“I didn’t know anyone else who would know how your body works when it’s sick.” Todoroki said matter-of-factly, coming back over to Katsuki’s bed. He was mostly forgiven when he put his cool hand back on Katsuki’s burning forehead, getting a soft noise Katsuki didn’t even know he made.

“Well, his parents will know, for sure.” Deku said to Todoroki. Katsuki glared harder. “I can call them, figure out where to go from here.”

Todoroki nodded.

Deku then handed Todoroki a rather big box that Katsuki surprisingly recognized. Auntie Inko knew how injured they got in training, especially since Deku wouldn’t fucking stop constantly breaking all of his bones, and had gifted him the same first aid kit that Deku held in his hands. Actually, it really wasn’t a first aid kit but a mini hospital, with so many things Katsuki didn’t know when he’d ever use some of them. (Seriously, Auntie, when was he gonna need a goddamn stethoscope?) He’d only taken it because his mother would’ve been mad if he made Auntie cry, not that he could handle her tears anyways, and, well… secretly he could appreciate the gesture. He never understood why Auntie continued to try and take care of him even though he really wanted nothing to do with her son, but he supposed that’s just how she was. Deku too, but he was way more annoying about it.

“You should take his temperature, if he’ll let you.” Deku said, still talking to Todoroki and not him. “You’ll have a way better chance with him than I will.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here!” Katsuki shouted, immediately regretting the loudness when he made his own headache worse.

“Sorry, Kacchan.” Katsuki just glared at him, fighting off the wince he’d just given himself. “I- I’ll just go call Uncle Masaru now.”

Deku stepped out of the room, and Todoroki set the kit down onto his nightstand, digging through it with one hand, keeping his right hand on Katsuki’s forehead.

“There are three thermometers in here.” Todoroki stated, seemingly a little overwhelmed by Auntie’s overprotective nature. “And they’re all different.”

Katsuki made a noncommittal noise. Something then pushed gently at his mouth, and he turned his glare to Todoroki.

“I can’t use the other ones, I’ve been cooling you off too much.” Todoroki said, poking him again. “They won’t give accurate results. This is the only one left.”

“I can do it myself.” Katsuki said, trying to move his mouth as little as possible.

Todoroki sighed, definitely sounding frustrated. “Bakugou, will you please just put your damn pride aside for two minutes? I just want to help you. You’re my friend. Let me help you.”

This was the first he’d heard about them being friends, though he supposed he had started paying more attention to Todoroki after their supplemental classes. He hadn’t thought it had been reciprocated though. But even if they were friends now, this was something he couldn’t allow. He wasn’t weak, he didn’t need help, not even Todoroki’s.

Not even if a dark part of him wanted to accept it.

Moving his body was like trying to move through molasses, but he did eventually get his arm out from under the blanket (when did he get a blanket?) and he reached for the thermometer. Todoroki sighed, but gave it to him. This time, the silence was awkward as they waited for the thermometer to beep. He wasn’t sure why this time was so different.

Deku was the one who broke it when he came back in. He still didn’t like anyone in his room, but he didn’t have the strength to blast the fucker out, even if he did have the sweat.

“Uncle said that there’s not much we can do except keep him cool, the illness just has to run its course.” Deku frowned, trying not to talk directly to Todoroki and failing. “And. um. Auntie Mitsuki said, um, not to take any of his, uh, ‘bullshit’. Her words, not mine.”

Todoroki just nodded. Katsuki didn’t know what that meant.

Once the thermometer finally beeped, Todoroki withdrew it without asking permission. Oh, that’s what that meant. Damn hag, and damn Deku. Todoroki took everything too literally, Deku should’ve fucking translated his mother’s stupid words.

“39.27 (102.7)” The monotone was back. Katsuki felt an emotion he didn’t know how to describe, but it wasn’t pleasant. “That’s higher than I was expecting, though unsurprising.”

“Yeah, Uncle said when Kacchan gets sick, he really gets sick.”

Katsuki growled at him again, wanting to yell and blow him up but trying not to be stupid and repeat past mistakes. His head was still throbbing from the earlier shout.

“I-I-I should go, Todoroki.” Deku said, shrinking away from him. “I think I’m just making it worse. He doesn’t want me here.” No. No he didn’t. Especially since he wouldn’t stop talking about him like he wasn’t there in his own fucking room. “Do you want to come with me? I’m sure Kirishima wouldn’t mind looking after him.”

The beat in between Deku’s question and Todoroki’s answer made the emotion he had worse.

“No. I’ll keep him cool for now. It’s no trouble.” Katsuki didn’t know whether that made him happy or annoyed. God, he hated emotions, they were literally the worst. It was so much easier to just be angry all the time.

“Don’t forget to not overuse your quirk, Todoroki. Just let one of us know if you get too cold. We’ll figure something out.”

Todoroki just nodded and Deku very quickly left the room. If Katsuki was more childish like his friends, he would’ve flipped him off as he left. But Deku didn’t deserve what little energy he had, and closing the door until very little light was left was at least the decent thing to do.

“You can leave, IcyHot.” Katsuki grumbled. “I’m-mmph.” Suddenly Todoroki’s cool hand was over his mouth. Katsuki did not like that, he didn’t like anyone touching his face and it had only gotten worse since the-incident-that-shall-not-be-named. He nipped at Todoroki’s hand, and it quickly returned to his forehead, but the message to shut up was loud and clear.

“Stop saying you’re fine.” Todoroki snapped, and Katsuki thought he almost sounded angry. Katsuki didn’t know that Todoroki could even get angry. “Stop lying to me. I don’t care about your stupid pride, and I cannot understand why you won’t let it go for two seconds for your friends. I want to help you but I can’t if you won’t let me. Why won’t you let me? Do you… do you hate me?”

Grand displays of emotion were hard for him. Grand displays of emotion coming from Todoroki were another beast entirely. Katsuki had no idea how to respond to this, and if he wasn’t sick, he wouldn’t have responded to it beyond anger. But right now, with a fever he could no longer deny, his mind didn’t immediately go to the rage he used to shield him from emotions he didn’t like. It just took much energy that he didn’t have, and he hated himself for his weakness.

“No.” Was Katsuki’s response, and it was a lot more awkward than he’d wanted it to be.

“Then why won’t you stop lying to me?” Todoroki said, looking just as uncomfortable as Katsuki was. But apparently, not uncomfortable enough to shut up and let this go. “I thought you respected me, at least a little.”

Shit. Katsuki did not like letting people know when he respected them. They never responded in a way that Katsuki liked or could handle, either acting all smug about it or like it was obvious that they deserved it. Both reactions drove Katsuki up the wall.

Thinking about this was too hard, even with the soothing coolness Todoroki was projecting. He didn’t do emotions, and everything he was feeling right now just made him even uncomfortable in his skin. He’d take the fever and headache over this any day.

“I didn’t lie to you, I’m fine by myself.” Katsuki said. “I can take care of myself.”

“Except you won’t.” Todoroki snapped again and Katsuki internally cursed at his mother for putting this idea into Todoroki’s stupid head. “Taking care of yourself would’ve been canceling our plans, or going to see Recovery Girl. You refused to do either. That’s not taking care of yourself. You couldn’t even admit to me that you weren’t feeling well after you literally passed out in my arms. You’re lucky I was there to catch you, what if you weren’t with me? What if it happened when you’d stepped into the hall and I hadn’t followed you? You might’ve gotten a concussion or worse. If you don’t hate me, then why can’t you let me care about you?”

Katsuki unconsciously curled a little into himself, his quills puffing up, ready to lash out at any moment. His head hurt, and even with the frosty air Todoroki was creating he was on fire, he just couldn’t deal with this right now. Being sick for the first time in years was already way too much for him, he’d never felt so shitty in his life, and having fucking Todoroki of all people see him this weak made him so uncomfortable he didn’t have a word for it. Katsuki didn’t understand why Todoroki was so upset, and thinking about it hurt his head too much. He didn’t even have an answer for Todoroki. He didn’t have an answer when his friends asked him the same question after they were fed up with his insistence on independence and refusing to accept their help. He’d learned the hard way that sometimes he had to depend on other people, but that hadn’t made it any easier to deal with. So he’d rather just not deal with it at all.

After a fair amount of silence, Todoroki just sighed, sounding resigned. This was the most emotion Katsuki had seen out of Todoroki since he’d met the bastard. Katsuki thought that was very rude, and he should’ve gotten this a lot earlier. Though, he could do without the annoyance and anger. “You should get some sleep, Bakugou.”

Well, now he was purposefully not gonna do that, even though he was exhausted. Once spite was activated there was no stopping it. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Then stop being an idiot.” Todoroki hissed.

Katsuki glared at Todoroki but it didn’t matter since Todoroki still wasn’t looking at him, only straight ahead.

“Don’t fucking insult me.”

“I’ll do whatever I want, thanks.” Todoroki said, matching his energy. “Since that’s all you do, I get to do it too.”

“Oh fuck you!” Katsuki snapped, absolutely done with this stupid bastard, throwing his own words in his face was the last straw. “Get the fuck out of my room! Leave me the fuck alone!”

It was quiet for a minute.

“Fine.”

Todoroki ripped his hand away from Katsuki’s forehead and stood sharply. He walked out without another word, and Katsuki expected the door to slam and prepared himself for it. But Todoroki caught it just before it did, and he closed the door quietly behind him.

Katsuki stared at the door for a moment, almost in disbelief. Todoroki never got angry, let alone to this extreme. He thought even Deku hadn’t seen that before, the damn nerd would’ve said something. Even though Katsuki liked antagonizing Todoroki, liked seeing if he could get the bastard to show emotion, even if it was negative emotions, this didn’t… this didn’t make him feel good. The emotion he hadn’t been able to describe twisted in his gut, making his chest hurt in a way that it never had before. He wanted to get Todoroki riled up, it’s why he talked to him the way he did, the way he purposely tried to push the bastard’s buttons, that was his end goal. He wanted to see Todoroki show some sort of emotion, any sort of emotion.

So why did that make him feel so shitty?

Getting what he wanted never made him feel bad in the past. It was a point of pride for him that he basically always got what he wanted, that he’d earned what he’d wanted. Katsuki was always so sure of himself, he always knew what he wanted, and he did everything he could to get it.

Was this… actually what he wanted? Somehow, he didn’t think so. Which never happened, Katsuki always knew what he wanted, and he never regretted anything. (Well, he regretted a few things but he never let himself think about them so that was basically the same thing.) But the more the silence of the room echoed in his ears, the more he regretted saying any of those things, and not just because he’d lost the hand that had been keeping his headache at a somewhat manageable level. The icepick in his head only seemed to make his actions seem worse, and Katsuki did not like that. Even though he knew he was an asshole with no filter, and no intent on getting one, this felt like he’d gone too far. He’d gone too far a couple of times in his life, and this felt worse than all of them.

With the door closed, heat was starting to build up in his room, and the blanket that he still didn’t know how he got was kicked around to his legs. His hand flopped around to his nightstand, opening the drawer and grabbing the remote for his ac unit. He turned it down several degrees, and didn’t have the energy to put it back. His hand just fell to his bed, and his eyes closed on their own accord. Even though he’d wanted to stay up to spite Todoroki, despite the fact that he couldn’t remember why anymore, his body just started to shut down on its own. At least sleep would be a reprieve from the overwhelming pain in his chest and his head, so he surrendered to the thick haze of sleep and hoped he’d wake up without this agony.

Blood. Blood and screams and death and fear. Katsuki spun around, lost and scared, wanting to run but unsure of where he could run to. Screams rang in his ears from all directions, each one different yet full of the same agony. Each one echoed their pain into his heart, overwhelming him with emotions he couldn’t handle. Unable to take anymore, his legs took off running without thinking, his chest heaving as the torturous screams pierced his chest.

He skidded to a stop as an image flashed in his mind, his own scream blending into the background. Deku’s body was still crackling with energy, his green lightning dying as Deku lay still. His arms and legs were both black, bent in horrific ways, and Katsuki’s stomach lurched as his gaze finally landed on Deku’s chest. His ribs had pierced through his skin, his chest cavity a mess of blood and bone, surprise still written on Deku’s lax face, his green eyes dull and lifeless. Again, Katsuki’s legs took off without his consent, tears streaming down Katsuki’s face as nausea built in his stomach.

His arms flailed as he slipped on something wet and sticky, crashing into some sort of small building. Looking up, Katsuki screamed again, seeing Kirishima spread eagle across the top, his head hanging down, his neck brutally slit open, dripping blood into the fiery red hair he was so famous for. Katsuki slipped again in his haste to get up, realizing with a sickening jolt that he was slipping on Kirishima’s blood.

“Make it stop.” Katsuki sobbed. “Make it stop.”

He finally got up again, only to freeze in place. In front of him was Ashido, lying in a heap, her neck bone protruding from her skin as her head twisted the other way. As more and more tears spilled down his cheeks, he turned and turned and turned. Jirou, her own earphones wrapped around her red, raw neck. Sero hanging from his own tape, his limp hands still stuck from trying to free himself. Kaminari’s head soaked, water still dripping from his motionless mouth. His world began to spin, and he crashed to the ground, curling into a ball.

“Make it stop.” Katsuki covered his ears and shut his eyes, trying to block it all out. “Please, make it stop.”

The world went silent.

Katsuki warily opened his eyes. Vast ground filled only with empty space. He was too scared to try and speak, terrified that the death and screams and blood would come back. No matter where he looked, all he found was emptiness until he came across Todoroki, laying on the ground too, facing away from him.

He crawled over hesitantly, his mouth moving to speak Todoroki’s name but his vocal cords refused to make any noise. Katsuki’s hand hovered over Todoroki’s body for a moment, not seeing anything on his red side. Maybe he was just unconscious? His hand finally landed on Todoroki’s arm, frowning as it was cool. No, no, his red was his fire side, he should’ve been warm. His hand jerked as he pulled it back, causing Todoroki to roll over.

Katsuki screamed again, his voice laden with agony as Todoroki’s head lolled to the side. His white side had completely disappeared, charred to ash, his skin covered in burns matching the scar on his face. He cowered away, his hands dragging him away from Todoroki’s dead body. He slipped again, curling back into a ball, sobbing.

Everyone he had ever cared about was gone, and Katsuki was alone. Emptiness beat in his ears, the silence louder than any of the screams had been. His sobs echoed across the vastness, his breath the only other sound. He longed for his friends, wanted someone to still be with him, to tell him that everything was going to be okay. That he would have more than himself to keep him company, to make him smile just a little, to make him let out a breathy laugh. To watch with amusement as they did something stupid, being far too noticeable when he was socially awkward with his stupid confused face, silently sitting with him when they knew he wanted company but couldn’t take any more noise. Grabbing him in one arm hugs, ruffling his hair and dodging when he swatted at them, squishing him when they were all crammed together in too small of a space to fit all of them. He wanted that back, he wanted them back so badly, he’d do anything.

“Anything, huh?” The back of his neck burned, and he was lifted off the ground. He writhed in the grip, sludge rising from the ground to latch onto his body, forcing him into submission.

“No, no, please, stop!” Katsuki wailed, the sludge only growing stronger, binding his body in muck. The heat on the back of his neck increased, and another hand forced his head forward, his eyes only able to focus on Todoroki’s lifeless body. “Not like this, not like this!”

“Aw, I thought you said ‘anything’.” The voice taunted. “Don’t you love them? Wouldn’t you do anything for them? You know we have an offer for you, you remember our last one.”

“Can’t.” Katsuki wanted to shake his head, but the grip was too strong. “Won’t betray them.”

“Then die with them.”

Katsuki couldn’t move, his entire body now encased in the sludge, could barely talk as the goo began to tease at going in his mouth and down his throat.

“Not again.” Katsuki gasped, feeling the horrid taste of the sludge as it crept slowly, maliciously, into his mouth. “Please not again.”

A mocking laugh, and then the sludge forced itself down his throat, cutting off his air. Katsuki panicked, writhing with great strength, but useless, so uselessly. The world spun one last time as he grew dizzy from hypoxia, and he fell into darkness with taunting laughter echoing around him.

Katsuki jolted up in bed, a silent scream on his lips. His eyes rolled at the heat of his room, just as dizzy as he was in his fever induced nightmare, practically seeing the waves of heat energy radiating from his furniture, his walls. He had to cool down. If he didn’t cool down, he thought he was going to die, his body melting into his bed.

His room had a shower. The door was right there. He just had to get there, the water could cool him down. He pushed himself up, his arms too shaky to hold him for long. Maneuvering his body was like trying to walk straight in a gyroscope. He stepped forward with his left foot, shaking as he stood, desperately trying to go forward. His right foot was next, but it was still tangled up in the blanket of unknown origin. He tried to pull it free, but another strong bout of dizziness sent him tumbling to the floor.

The world faded in and out as he lay on the floor, his arms trying to push himself up, but he crashed back down every time. He just didn’t have the strength to get up, the attempts draining what little he had until he just gave up. His vision flickered in and out, his sweat soaking into his carpet, his heart carrying agony all over his body, igniting each nerve with a bonfire, his head pounding like a thunderstorm’s rage.

“Sorry to disturb you…”

“Eh, no worries, Todoroki. If Bakubro needs me, then I’m there, no matter what.”

Even though the door was closed, Katsuki could still hear the voices through it. The dorm walls carried sound better than any speaker.

His door quietly creaked open, driving another spike of pain into his head. “Bakugou? Hey man, are you- oh shit!”

Light blinded him for a moment, before he felt a cold arm heave him up, cradling him in iciness. He whimpered, the sudden shock of frigidity making him wince. A warmer hand came to his forehead before jerking back with a hiss.

“He’s burning up.” Kirishima gasped, cursing again.

“Kirishima, get Recovery Girl.” Todoroki ordered, taking charge of the situation. “I’m gonna try to cool him down.”

Kirishima nodded, his face set in his ‘serious mode’. His best friend should’ve been a comfort, but seeing Kirishima’s frown and furrowed brow just made him a little scared. Kirishima was one of the smiliest people he’d ever met, and Katsuki always told him that his face would get stuck like that. It was always laughed off, bringing out that same smile, which always made Katsuki roll his eyes. But he still liked seeing it, and when it was missing, Katsuki didn’t like it, not one bit.

“Don’t use your quirk, use his shower.” Kirishima said, standing. “Anything lower than room temperature is too cold, you’ll send him into shock.”

Todoroki just nodded, and Katsuki wondered if he’d already known that, or if his temperature regulation thing kept him from getting fevers. Kirishima bolted out the door, his steps thudding down the hall then the stairs.

Another arm came to his knees, and he was lifted into the air. His vision swirled again, able to tell he was moving but unable to process anything else. His legs were gently placed on the ground, but then the sound of a massive waterfall assaulted him and he turned back into the soft, wintry physique. But then he was pulled away from it, and he didn’t know whether that felt good or bad. The waterfall then disappeared, and he saw that Todoroki had switched the tap to shower.

The arm came back to his knees, and another dizzying bit of motion finished with water pelting at him, as he was pressed against something that didn’t feel hot or cold. Even though the water droplets were needle-sharp, they were cool, and Katsuki sank into it, feeling the water soothe the bonfire under his skin. He wasn’t sure how long he was under the spray before his mind finally cleared enough to focus on his surroundings. Katsuki was laying against Todoroki, who was holding him up by his waist, in Katsuki’s shower. Katsuki decided to be embarrassed about this later, when he didn’t feel so shitty and when Todoroki wasn’t keeping him from drowning in his own shower.

“‘roki?” Katsuki groaned, his voice weak and quiet. But thankfully Todoroki still heard him.

“Yes, Bakugou?”

“I don’ feel so good.” Katsuki said, looking up at Todoroki. He must’ve looked like a drowned cat, his hair soaked and stuck to his forehead, his clothes soaked to the skin, his skin showing through his white tank top, Katsuki didn’t think he’d ever looked so pathetic in his life.

“No shit.” Todoroki muttered grumpily. “You couldn’t have said that a few hours ago?”

Katsuki ducked his head a little, his cheeks were already flushed but the pink got a little stronger. “Couldn’t. Can’t be weak. Specially not in front of you.”

That made Todoroki pause, and then meet his eye again. “Me?”

Katsuki nodded shakily.

“Why?” Todoroki breathed, the shower louder than both of their voices.

“Because… you’re so strong.” Katsuki mumbled, the fever that still raged within him loosening his tongue. If he were coherent, he’d rather be caught dead than saying shit like this, but he was still so hot and the water felt so good and his mind felt so worn thin that he just kept talking. “Noticed the first day I saw you. Never met anyone like you. Stronger than me. Pissed me off.”

Todoroki scoffed. “Of course it would.” a sigh. “But why would that mean you can’t be ‘weak’ around me?”

“Weakness doesn’t get notice. ‘N like that. Wanted notice.”

There was another beat of silence. Katsuki turned his head into Todoroki’s cooler side, using him as an ice pack for his still aching head.

“Are you saying that you thought I wouldn’t notice you if I thought you were weak?” Todoroki murmured, his voice low and uncertain.

His body was starting to get wracked with tremors, but he managed a nod through it. He couldn’t tell if he was shivering or shaking, just feeling his body vibrate, and the bonfire inside him was starting to win the battle against the water. His body went limp as the fire began to consume him, his eyes rolling around in his head.

“I, I… Bakugou? Bakugou, what’s wrong? Bakugou!” Todoroki’s voice jumped in emotion, in worry, but Katsuki could no longer differentiate the emotions. Todoroki was little more than a red and white blur now, Katsuki’s world spinning faster than a top, black spots dotting his vision, growing larger with each rotation. His mind lost all sense of reality, darkness swirling around him like a maelstrom. Voices again rang in his ears, but he couldn’t distinguish one from another.

“-hear me? Bakugou, can you hear me?”

“He was talking a minute ago, but…”

“-unresponsive -get him to the infirmary- covery girl can- hurry…”

Someone grabbed his arms, hauling him into the air, and the sudden movement had him blacking out entirely, falling into the black hole the maelstrom had created.

Consciousness was murky, muddying his perception into something unintelligible as he slipped in and out of the darkness always on the edge of his mind. He wasn’t sure how long it took for his mind to clear, but the longer time went on, he sluggishly began to become more aware of his surroundings. He discovered new pain in his hand, but the agony in his head had subsided a great deal, though it wasn’t entirely gone. He was laying on something familiar but uncomfortable, his body propped up against it. To his immense relief, he found that he wasn’t on fire for the first time in what felt like days.

Dazedly, he opened his eyes, immediately squinting at the bright overhead lights. It took him a minute to adjust, but the light didn’t increase his headache much, so he managed easily enough. White walls came into focus, along with cool, white sheets on the bed he couldn’t remember getting in, with a light blue canvas on his chest. He pulled lightly at it, confused, and pulled his hand up to his vision. No wonder it hurt, there was an IV stabbed through his hand, drawing out a noise of discomfort. He felt like he hadn’t slept in years, his mind struggling to keep up with the world around him.

Footsteps had his head immediately turning, his instincts sharper than any discombobulation, and he made another discovery, movement didn’t make him dizzy anymore. But that didn’t answer the question of what had happened, but the old woman walking towards him at least contributed to it. He knew this room, this was the infirmary, but he couldn’t remember how he got here.

“Ah, young Bakugou, I was wondering when you’d come back to us.” The old bat said, sounding far too cheerful.

He frowned at her, trying and failing to process her words in time as Recovery Girl walked up to his bed. His head still swam in uncertainty, cognizance lagging out like one of his friends’ video games. She stood on one of her little step-stools, coming up to his level, patting his hand gently before putting something uncomfortable in his ear. He groaned, attempting to turn away, but she cupped his cheek, gently but firmly keeping him in place.

“Keep still, it’s alright.” Her voice was as gentle as her hand, but that didn’t soothe him much. “Just a few seconds more.”

A quiet beeping and she kept her word. “38.44 (101.2). Much better, considering you came in at 40.5 (104.9). Any higher and you might’ve had permanent brain damage.”

Oh shit. That was bad. That was very bad. A brief flash of fear ran up his spine, a spike of anxiety panging in his stomach.

“Wha’ happ’n?” Katsuki asked, his voice hoarse from disuse.

“A stress fever.” She replied, handing him a little paper cup of water. His hand was shaking a little as he took it, but he kept her help to a minimum. “Unsurprising, considering the amount of stress you all are under, you especially. Normally, they’re not an issue, and they fade rather quickly, but you’re a special case. As you know, your sweat can’t cool you down like most people so you’re easily affected by fevers. Since you didn’t come to me, or do anything to reduce it, your fever just worsened and worsened until your body couldn’t take it anymore. You’re very lucky that Todoroki and Kirishima found you when they did.”

Jumbled memories came to the forefront of his mind, of Kirishima’s voice in his room, a hand on his forehead, of Todoroki carrying him, holding him as they lay in the shower. Fuck, that was embarrassing, and the chastising Recovery Girl was giving just made him feel even worse.

“Didn’t notice.” He said, needing to defend himself, his pride leaving him unable to do anything less. After all, it wasn’t like he’d done this on purpose. He may hate being in this damn room, but he wasn’t stupid enough to not seek medical help when he was seriously sick. He just honestly hadn’t noticed something was wrong until it was too late. He’d dealt with plenty of hot and uncomfortable days before so he thought yesterday had been no different. “Not til af’r dinner. Don’t get sick.”

“Yes, young Midoriya said that.” Recovery Girl sighed. “As did your parents when I called them. They said since they’re currently in Madrid, they’d do their best, but the flight home is rather long, even without layovers. Hopefully, by the time they do get here, you’ll be fever free.”

Well, his day just got a lot worse. Katsuki hated it when his parents had to pick him up from school. He didn’t need his parents to come and fuss over him, he wasn’t a baby.

His unhappiness must’ve shown on his face, since Recovery Girl just tutted at him. “Give them a break, you gave them quite a scare. You’ve gotten very good at that.”

Katsuki huffed, definitely not pouting.

“Really, I should’ve expected something like this to happen.” She muttered. He cocked his head in confusion. “It’s been a week since I’ve had one of you in here, and if someone from 1A isn’t in here, something is very wrong.”

He had to admit, that seemed like solid logic. He was classmates with the biggest dumbasses he’d ever met, and they were all klutzy and accident prone, and that was off the battlefield.

“Speaking of your classmates,” ah hell, what do those idiots want now? “when you’re feeling up to it, you’ll have plenty of visitors.”

Oh fuck no, he was not doing that. His classmates were so emotional, crying and pitying and all sorts of terrible shit he hated being around. He got uncomfortable when one of his friends was upset, he couldn’t take the whole class. Leaving before Recovery Girl said he could sounded like a much better option. He’d rather get yelled at than deal with all of his dumbasses.

“Try to get out of this bed and I’ll sedate you.” Recovery Girl said bluntly. Katsuki deflated, miserably becoming resigned to his fate. Obviously, this was just going to be one of the shittiest days of his life and he couldn’t do anything about it.

“I’ll keep them from overwhelming you.” She said sympathetically, patting his hand again, and that was at least something. Normally, he would’ve snapped that he didn’t need her pity, but he could tell it wasn’t pity. He didn’t quite know what it was, but anything was better than pity. “But for right now, you should get some sleep. Let your body’s natural processes heal you. I’d much rather have your body heal itself, I don’t like how high a dosage of fever reducer I have to give you to help you fight this. I want to take you off that as soon as I can.”

Ah, that explained the IV, and why his mind wasn’t working right. He’d seen his idiot friends on too much cold medicine before, he’d just never experienced it himself until now. It was a lot more disconcerting than he would’ve thought. Next time, he’d have to watch more closely when one of his idiots got sick, this fucking sucked.

Sleep did sound like a fantastic idea, though. Keeping up with this conversation was taking far too much energy than it should’ve, and Katsuki was just fucking done. Even better, if he slept the rest of the day away, he could avoid all of the extras and idiots who wanted to ‘visit’ him and annoy him with their presence. The medication was no doubt keeping his spite under control, as when Recovery Girl stepped down to do other shit he didn’t give a fuck about, he could just close his eyes and let the exhaustion that been on the edge of his mind since he woke up take him without much resistance.

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