#pocket saeran

[marshmallowprotection]

Hello, Kait 🩵! Tomorrow I will be extremely busy doing errands that are not suitable for pocket sized people. Do you think you could pleasee watch my pocket sized Saeyoung while I run my errands :’)? I will pack his necessities in his backpack (such as his favorite chips and other stuff).

I will absolutely watch over your Pocket Saeyoung, Anon! I think he might enjoy hanging out with my Pocket Saeran! They can get some ice cream together while you run your errands! Don't worry, he's in safe hands.

#mod kait #ask #mystic messenger #anon #mysme #mysticmessenger #saeyoung choi #choi saeyoung #luciel choi #choi luciel #pocket saeyoung #borrower au #pocket saeran

[natasha-in-space]

Heavily inspired by @marshmallowprotection's pocket Saeran au! While originally I planned to leave it on this, I just couldn't help myself, so here's a fic featuring my cmc Natasha below. This turned out way longer than I originally intended for it to be, but I quite like the final result nonetheless. Oh, and btw: Natasha plays the role of Ray's/Saeran's assistant rather the being a tester for the RFA app!

"No, that's not the right code! What did I tell you!? This is your third attempt, and you STILL can't grasp the solution to this one simple problem that I've already laid out clearly for you!? What, apparently you can't even type correctly!?"

With a heavy sigh, Natasha buried her head into her elbows, tightly squeezing her eyes shut in a feeble attempt to block out yet another fit of yelling assaulting her ears. Her head was slowly starting to pound from the sheer amount of information she was desperately trying to process in the shortest amount of time possible, while her eyes were already drying up from hours of meticulous grueling work in front of multiple bright monitors. Her entire body seemed to be begging her for rest, or at the very least, even a minute to stretch her stiff limbs and distract herself with literally anything else other than countless of symbols on the annoyingly bright computer screen in front of her.

Ever since Saeran had shrunk to the size of a newborn kitten in one day - to the sheer shock of them both - she had tried her very best to carry out their shared responsibilities on her own shoulders, under the strict guidance of her boss. However... she's not sure how long she can hold out like this.

Natasha's assignments as an assistant hardly included work on Magenta's code or general software, not after Ray concluded that it was much more productive for them both to delegate and leave all the paperwork to her, along with various applicable tasks that he had to occasionally focus on, instead of his main tasks. Thus, they both worked in areas which they were most efficient in, while at the same time easing each other's workload. And even with Saeran's strict instructions right at her ear, her energy and concentration could only take her so far. It took her only a couple hours of uninterrupted work until her fingers began to ache and she unconsciously started to miss out on even the most obvious of mistakes in dozens of words on multiple screens.

However... It's not like she could blame Saeran right now. She couldn't even imagine what it was like for him in this situation.

Moreover, she could feel that all these screams and insults he continuously threw at her were simply a manifestation of his fears and paranoia, which were quite difficult for him to cope with at the moment. The Savior cannot know about this. And his whole life, at this very moment, was in her hands. Literally. He easily fits in the palm of her hand - harming him would be so easy, even by mere accident. The only thing left for him to do was shout, yell and appear as intimidating as his size could allow him to be.

No wonder he's been so on edge lately.

So... Natasha tried not to dwell too much on his venomous words that were slipping off the tip of his tongue one after another in a fit of utter frustration and helplessness. He was simply expressing his feelings as best he could, given his heavily limited resources.

She was pulled out of her musings about their troubling situation by a slight jerk to the side, accompanied by a small pain shooting in her temple. Twitching in her seat, the girl tried to carefully return to a proper sitting position, while doing her best as to not accidentally push Saeran onto the floor when lifting her head.

He pulled at her hair - Natasha quite quickly figured out what was the matter. She had to maneuver awkwardly in her seat, holding out her palm to him for safety, until he successfully settled onto her shoulder where he could interact with her most closely. Her hair might be quite long, but she certainly didn't want to test whether or not he could hold onto the thick strands with enough strength as to not fall off.

It's rather intriguing how quickly they developed a system of sorts out of non-verbal interactions with each other, given the drastic change in communication between them.

Turning her head to the tiny hacker on her shoulder, she was met with a pair of irritated mint eyes.

...oh yeah, he's definitely not in the mood.

Saeran clenched his teeth, trying to sound as menacing as possible, given his unique eccentric circumstances.

"And how long are you planning to lie around doing nothing, huh? Should I remind you for the hundredth time of the importance of what you do here? Or is your brain so impossibly small that the concept of 'duty' is too complicated for you?" He spat out with clear venom in his rough voice.

She couldn't help the raw feeling of disappointment blooming deep within her chest, listening to these harsh words. Her boss regressed to the same old cruel insults and humiliation that Natasha now had to deal with on a daily basis yet again. Not that he was a tender angel to her before this, but now it felt like he was on a crisp of exploding at her at every single insignificant mistake she made.

It was suffocating and draining.

Saeran was scared and tired, she understood that.

But this applies to her in equal part as well. She simply wanted him to understand this fundamental fact and quit trying his very best to see her as a villain that was ready to pounce onto him at any moment of vulnerability on his part. They're in this mess together... just because his position is more vulnerable doesn't mean that she immediately becomes the one with all the control at her fingertips. However... she had no desire to argue with him or respond with anger to anger. That wouldn't solve anything.

So, with yet another tired sigh falling from her lips, Natasha raised her palm to the miniature man on her shoulder, offering her hand as a platform of sorts for easy movement. She avoided his piercing gaze, chewing on her bottom lip. Her voice came out in an unsure half-whisper, with her testing the waters and hoping that she'll successfully calm him down, at least a little bit.

"Saeran... We need a break. I won't be able to do a good job when I'm this easily distracted, and I think you understand that very well. It would be much better to give both of us some time to recuperate, so that we can get back to work with renewed vigor and achieve much better results at the end of the day. You know, rather trying to finish something when we're both on edge like this?"

Despite a clear audible sneer of annoyance on his side, he obeyed, jumping down into her palm and allowing her to gingerly wrap her thumb around his tiny torso as a safety net. He folded his arms across his chest, clearly not feeling pleased with her offer.

"...At this rate, the Savior will become suspicious in a matter of days, stupid toy."

Natasha hummed under her breath as she gently lowered her boss onto the smooth surface of their shared desk, where they could look at each other face to face. She folded both of her arms on the table, resting her chin on her hands and thus lowering herself down to his level, where he could reach out and touch the tip of her nose with his hand.

"I know..."

She sounded hoarse and completely worn out - a perfect representation of her exhausted state of mind after days of grueling work. She reached forward, her fingertip briefly touching the tangled mop of his white hair, before he had time to quickly step back and push her finger away with an angry scowl on his face. Just like she expected him to do. At this size, he even looked... kind of cute like that.

Natasha hid the lower half of her face in her arms, thus concealing a small cheerful smile that helplessly tugged at the corners of her lips, despite her best efforts to hold it back. She didn't want him to think she was laughing at him, after all.

"We'll figure something out."

The words sounded somewhat naive and even stupid, she got that. A childish belief that everything will inevitably work out, and they will be able to find a path to their happiness while also avoiding any harm on the way.

As if confirming her internal concussions, Saeran grimaced in clear revulsion, clenching his hands at his sides into small fists.

"You know how much I hate empty promises like that."

Natasha could not ignore a brief glimpse of hurt in his clouded mint eyes, as if her words made him think of something extremely unpleasant to him. A short reminder of a distant past that was still a mysterious and complex puzzle for her. A puzzle that she'll have to solve sometime in the future. At least, he noticeably calmed down, although he is very unlikely to admit it out loud to her face like that. One way or another, now he was talking to her in a relatively calm tone. He stopped trying to desperately ground himself through endless screams and threats, which were only making him feel more stressed out at the end of the day.

She lifted her head off her elbows once again, facing him fully now. She tentatively searched his gaze with her own, feeling an odd need to reassure him any way she could. This odd sense of determination gave her enough courage to speak out yet again, more firmly this time.

"Saeran, no matter what happens... I won't let anything or anyone hurt you. You don't have to believe me right now, I know that these are just words, nothing more. But even if the Savior finds out... I will do my best to keep you safe."

She gave him a small reassuring smile, though her green eyes seemed much more sorrowful and fatigued when compared to her seemingly warm and kind facial expression.

"After all, you're doing your best for Magenta even now, I don't see any reason for her to be angry with you. I consider your diligence and perseverance to be worthy of respect, not disappointment."

Natasha unconsciously bounced her leg up and down with a quick anxious rhythm, carefully picking out her next words as to not annoy him too much with her silly attempt at consoling. She stuttered.

"...B-but hey, I am quite confident that we can find a way out of this ordeal without any worst-case scenario occurring!"

She swiftly realized that she started babbling away once again, her face flushing with an embarrassed blush at her own unnecessarily long speech. Oh yes, she and Ray could share long conversations about anything and nothing for hours on end, not stopping for a single minute, until their voices felt horse from talking for so long. They both tended to get lost in their thoughts and daydreams, oftentimes even forgetting about the world surrounding them in the process.

On the other hand, Saeran was inclined to express his inner feelings through actions rather than words. Which made this slight difference between them somewhat embarrassing at times.

Saeran's gaze was fixed to the side, and his eyebrows were deeply furrowed, casting a dark shadow on his incredibly pale features. It seems that her words had caused him to rethink some of his own deductions, prompting him to carefully consider his course of action for a proper response to her statements.

Although, Natasha did not at all expect loud gratitude, or joy for her meek support. More so, the girl did not want anything from him at all. All she wished for was to provide him at least a small bit of comfort amidst the raging storm of seemingly endless obstacles and problems of all kinds that had surrounded him in these past couple of days.

So, she waited patiently, not interfering in any way and not invading his small bubble of personal space.

He was just as worn out as her. While maybe he was no longer torturing himself with long hours of grueling work at his desk, this did not at all mean that all these new changes, to which he had to adapt whether he wanted to or not, did not fall on his shoulders as a heavy burden. Not to mention the fears about what awaits him in the future that constantly haunted him. None of them knew how the Savior would react to such a bizarre change, and they did not really want to find out. Nobody needed to voice these concerns out loud to confirm that. No one knew how long he would have to stay in this form before everything would return to normal.

...would it return to normal?

Another question that even Natasha herself was too scared to say out loud.

She understood his feelings.

Saeran has always been the 'strongest' - the sword and shield that will protect both himself and their eternal paradise until his very last breath like the vicious hurricane destroying everything in it's path without any mercy. The one before whom everyone trembled and bowed their heads both in deep respect and fear. The one who the Saviour trusted with her own safety wholeheartedly. In his current state... how is he supposed to support this fragile role entrusted onto him? It's no wonder he's so short-tempered and restless lately.

And although Natasha certainly would love for her boss to see more in himself than just this one extreme trait, due to which he is eternally obliged to continue to prove his usefulness... Kind words alone can only take you so far. And yet, she tried time and time again.

Finally, Saeran responded, quietly huffing under his breath and averting his gaze.

"I don't need your protection or pity, airhead... Don't talk to me like I'm a helpless weed begging for sun and water to survive."

The phrase came out hardly as sharp and indifferent as he most likely intended for it to be. Natasha could have sworn she heard his voice involuntarily tremble at the last couple of words, causing him to turn his head away from her only further. He refused to raise his eyes up to her face again, only staring bitterly somewhere at his feet. It hurt to see him so dull and fatigued as opposed to his usual fiery self.

The girl cocked her head to the side, slowly and carefully sliding her index finger across the rough surface of the table and stopping inches away from her tiny boss, leaving him room to breathe, and at the same time, wishing to express her compassion one way or another.

Her voice dropped to a hushed whisper that slipped past her lips in a soft melody, loud enough to reach his ears, but too quiet to be audible outside of their shared private space.

"Well... I don't know how you'll feel about it, but to me, you're still one of the strongest people I've ever met, Saeran. Even in front of a situation that's so unbelievably confusing and scary to you, you still do your best. You keep moving forward no matter what. Fitting in the palm of my hand hasn't shrunk my admiration for you at all."

Giving him a faint but sincere smile, Natasha turned her green eyes to the large stack of papers on the side, deciding not to keep her thoughts hidden inside her own head this one time. A quiet hum escaped past her lips.

"But, you know... there's nothing wrong with being afraid either. After all, for me courage doesn't mean the absence of fears or worries, but the decision to move on despite them. Having doubts and fears doesn't make you more or less resilient. More so, when you think about it this way, fear is also a kind of concern for one's well-being. If we were not afraid of heights or darkness, it would be very easy for us to hurt ourselves, don't you agree?"

She crossed her legs on her seat, thoughtfully resting her chin on her free palm.

"Sometimes, there is nothing wrong with listening to your inner troubles, whatever they may be."

A certain melancholy filled her dull gaze as she started gently tapping on the surface of the table with her forefinger: a nervous habit that tended to come out in all its glory whenever she sank too deep into her own mind. She continued, paying no mind to the rhythmic sound of drumming filling the air around them.

"-And weeds need sunlight and fresh water, even when they're in bloom and are reaching for the sunny sky. Just because a flower looks healthy and strong does not mean that it does not need the same love and care as flowers that have wilted for whatever reason. You should provide them with all of your warmth regardless of their states. Sometimes, a flower may look like it's flourishing, but in reality, it needs some sort of care."

Before Natasha could continue her allegory, she was interrupted by the rough annoyed groan of a young hacker nearby.

"-You're starting to sound like that marshmallow boy, stop it. It's grossing me out to hear such lovey-dovey speeches, especially from you."

Saeran folded his arms across his chest, glaring at her with slightly puffed-out cheeks, like a grumpy cat demanding for attention. Once again, she couldn't help but point out just how utterly adorable he looked right now, making her want to try poking his cheek at least once.

...Of course, in the end, she decided not to. Besides, he is unlikely to enjoy being the object of her cooing due to his small size. Instead, Natasha let out a good-natured giggle as she tucked a lock of stray hair behind her ear and returned to the reality in front of her, shifting her gaze back to the white-haired man below.

"Hehehe, yeah, we definitely can't let that happen, can we? But I hope my 'lovey-dovey speech' touched you in one way or another."

A playful wink lightened up her tired features, while she puffed out her chest in false bravado.

"I was completely sincere with you, after all!"

He arched an eyebrow at her. Seems like he didn't appreciate her playfulness that much.

"Are you seriously playing cheeky with me right now, toy?"

Natasha faked deep astonishment, covering her mouth with her palm and letting out a soft gasp of shock.

"Sir, what are you saying? I'm in no position to allow myself to be playing cheeky with you! All my words are the pure and honest truth. That's why I am your assistant, don't you agree with me?"

Saeran rolled his eyes at her, suddenly reaching out and sharply pinching at her fingertip, which still rested defenselessly beside him. Not expecting such a direct move from him at all, the girl squeaked in bewilderment, instinctively pulling her hand back and staring at him with shocked pair of green eyes the size of dinner plates.

Pleased with her stunned reaction, Saeran chuckled with his trademark smirk now playing on his lips. He cocked his head to the side with a sort of defiance in his cool mint eyes.

"What was it you said? I think I didn't hear you clear enough, would you care to repeat that for me? You've become too arrogant for your own good, silly toy. Don't think you can escape your punishment for this just because I'm physically unable to enact it on you just yet. You know very well how sharp my memory is, so don't expect to slip away when everything will go back to normal."

He leaned forward, confidently folding his arms behind his back.

"In addition to that, I'm more than assured that you've already rested quite enough during all this time babbling about nonsense. Your long useless speeches are plenty of proof of that. Now get to work!"

Natasha sighed in defeat, drooping her shoulders and obediently grabbing a stack of papers that demanded her attention at a distance.

"Roger that, boss... But, would it be too arrogant of me to ask for your permission to take care of this part of the job first? My eyes are tired of staring at the monitor all day..."

She put on her most pitiful expression, hoping to take advantage of his good mood while she still had this rare chance.

With a little bit of effort, Saeran climbed onto the stack of papers, staring at her with a defiant spark glittering with renewed fire in his previously dim eyes. This sight involuntarily made her smile with joy, despite the very possible refusal of her bold request. Natasha definitely much more preferred seeing him like this, rather than when he was so blinded by his inner demons that anger and fear consumed all of his thoughts, forcing him to wear himself out to the very limit.

And it was quite funny how domineering his posture looked with such small stature, she couldn't lie.

"I still can't believe Ray chose such a useless assistant for himself, but... that's the way it is. However, if I don't see this stack of papers finished in an hour, you'll regret it, got that!?"

Her grin only grew in size as she nodded enthusiastically, feeling a new rush of motivation to keep working hard rushing through her body.

"Yes, boss!"

They will find a way out. Natasha was sure of that.

#mystic messenger #mysmes #mysme #mm #suit saeran #saeran choi #mm saeran #saeran x oc #mm oc #oc natasha stakh #had a pocket au brainrot for a while now so here's my spin on it :) #and yes i will put freckles on saeran whenever i draw him that's the law

[xelasrecords]

As One So Half

Han Jumin x MC

Jumin goes to V's house after burying him, marking the first time he visits without his friend waiting on the porch.

Based on the Secret Ending with some changes, most notably the MC being romantically involved with Jumin instead of Saeyoung. How differently would Jumin grieve if he had someone by his side?

CW: graphic descriptions of death and grief

Words: 6k

Masterlist Read on AO3

Grief had hung upon V and him for as long as Jumin could remember. At times, it was a shadow lurking in the dark. Other times, it was a crushing weight that broke his ribcage in. From the moment Jumin crashed his toy car into V's house and V bargained for his friendship in exchange for forgiveness, they had invited grief to sit with them like a premonition. Their friendship started with an accident and ended with one.

The clamour at Mint Eye still reverberated in Jumin's ears. How his security guards broke through the cult doors and he caught a mop of turquoise hair on the ground, stupidly relieved that V was finally within reach and Jumin could ask him everything he had been holding back. How the relief was brusquely cut with terror when it dawned on him that it was V, sprawled on the floor, unmoving.

Jumin had rushed in and almost slipped in his own friend's crimson blood, finding purchase on his still warm hand and feeling for his pulse and came back with nothing. He had pulled V into his lap and saw V's head drop without resistance, noticed his chest not rising and falling and thought the sensation of it unnerving. He had pressed on V's gunshot wound, willing the blood to stop flowing. No words could come out of his throat. He closed V's clouded mint eyes with stiff fingers and both knees in the pool of blood.

The blood was warm and had soaked into his dress pants. He could still feel the fabric clinging to his legs.

When he registered the pandemonium around him, Rika was already keening below the gaudy throne and Saeran had crumpled into a foetal position, a gun inches away from him. Saeyoung had fainted and was hauled by a brown-haired stranger. The new party coordinator was scrambling at V's pants pocket, her cheek streaked with blood. She's alive, Jumin had thought dully. Saeyoung was wrong. V didn't betray her. Jumin could not reach for her despite his heart. His limbs had petrified on the ground V died on.

Jumin saw V dead over and over. He saw V in the shower where he stood underneath the water, diluting the blood from his three-piece suit and rinsed away what was left of V from him. He saw V in the bed where the fifth glass of wine had muffled his senses but failed to put him to sleep. He saw V at the funeral before they closed the casket, his face frozen in a serene smile as if there was anything peaceful in being shot to death.

That was how Jumin lost V for the final time. He would not see him again.

Jumin stood alone in V's living room now and he didn't know where to start. There was no user manual for clearing up one's dead friend's belongings. His hand hovered over the light switch before rendering it useless. The harsh tangerine sunset cut through the open windows and washed the rustic room aglow. It was enough lighting and a reminder that V was gone. V would have paused with awe on his face and took a photograph.

Jumin had come over right after V's burial, and restless silence had greeted him where V's earnest welcome should have. The refrigerator hummed from the dark kitchen, the grandfather clock ticked on, and the brine in the cool breeze pricked at his skin. The quiet was deafening, devoid of the laughter that he was used to.

It wasn't just the house. The anxious chitter in Jumin's head had deadened as well. It used to thrum without end when V started to disappear and come back as if everything was fine two years ago, but Jumin could always detect the nervous fiddling and the melancholy that weighed him down. He had begun to lose V since then. He simply didn't know it yet.

Two years was a long time not to know peace, and there was no peace in the aftermath. Only resounding emptiness remained. For two years, Jumin had been living with fear fused into his bones that he couldn't recall another way to live. Two years of being on high alert, wishing V would put an end to it.

V finally did now.

Jumin knew the logical conclusion was that he was grieving, but he was a distant observer watching his grief engulf him. Nothing was as heavy as this sorrow, as the tether of his soul being cut in half. He couldn't see the end to it, this grief that had started since V was alive. Each time V returned from his long absences, he was more damaged, more changed, and there was nothing Jumin could do to help.

He almost missed the days of fearing for V's safety when V was at least still alive. If Jumin focused on the well-being of the RFA and the mess Rika left behind, he could feel normal, as if nothing had changed. He could delude himself that none of this was real. It was easier to handle practical tasks than turn to his emotions, easier to care for others than himself.

Jumin walked past a line of small cacti on the bookshelf and headed to the brown leather sofa, grazing it with his fingers. He could almost hear V telling him to sit down, wait here, as he made a fuss in the kitchen over which wine he thought Jumin would enjoy the most. Jumin would then say that all wine was enjoyable with the right company and V was the best company anyone could have. V would modestly shrug it away, but it wouldn't stop Jumin from reassuring him that he was worthy of the title.

V was not here anymore, yet Jumin hadn't lost the ability to predict his moves like he could predict his own thoughts. No matter the secrets V brought to his grave, he was still the friend that Jumin knew. But if V had in him a semblance of the friend that Jumin was familiar with, shouldn't he have been able to read V's mind in the past few years?

He would never forgive V for leaving on his own.

Slowly, Jumin walked and stopped outside V's bedroom. Though the white oak door was wide open, he couldn't bring himself to take another step. He hadn't been aware that the last time he entered would be the last. V's arm had been slung around his shoulder as he hauled him into bed. Jumin remembered V chuckling drunkenly, hopelessly, pleading with him to keep it from Rika.

He had known something was wrong then, but assumed V would confide in him in his own time. Jumin had faith in his friend and clung to the hope that it was reciprocated. What hope it was. Some lessons you could only learn not merely after hitting rock bottom, but after you were dragged across the serrated surface and bled out alone.

Jumin leaned his head against the door frame, watching dust motes drifting above the unmade bed. He wished they had met up more often. He should have hunted V down for even one night of conversation over wine. However disappointed Jumin was in V, his yearning to tell him of his pain was even greater. For years, V had been the first and only person who came to mind when he wanted to talk, and that had not changed.

"You've abandoned me, V," Jumin murmured under his breath.

He could forgive V for almost anything, but not for leaving him alone in a world where he was already alone.

Suddenly, he felt a light tap on his shoulder, and he closed his eyes. For one second, he could pretend it was V about to tell him that his death was just another lie he concocted to cover up a greater evil. This lie he would forgive. He would give up nearly all his possessions for the one person who shaped all that was human in him, who then took it with him when he left. Jumin was only masquerading as a person on the outside; his soul had drifted somewhere he could not follow.

But the hand on Jumin was too reverent and not at all like V's. It was the hand that had brought him to his feet after the paramedics wheeled V's body away, the hand that held him tightly as if he would break if she let go. He would not. Not in front of everyone. He never learned how to, and there were people to take care of.

Jumin fixed his tie, braced himself for another wave of bad news, and turned around.

But the party coordinator cut in before he could speak. "Everyone got back safely from the cemetery," she said. In the shadowed room, the rings of exhaustion beneath her eyes were barely noticeable. She hadn't changed out of her black mourning attire—a silk ruffle blouse with sleeves that cinched at her wrists and a long skirt that flared down to her calves. "Rika went with Yoosung and Zen, Saeyoung returned to the hospital for Saeran, and I just got off a call with Jaehee. She was brewing coffee at her home."

Her method of mentally tracking the members was not unlike his. Jumin couldn't deny his gratitude for the familiarity and her concern for them. "And you're here at V's home," he commented. "I suppose this could be a safe place for you. I used to find it a sanctuary myself."

"Is it still?"

"One would think I'd hate coming back to my dead friend's place, but I can feel him here." He let the rough texture of the wallpaper scrape the pads of his fingers. There was a faint maroon stain against the beige where V had spilt his wine while laughing at Jumin's office anecdote. "He might have built this house for him and Rika, but everything here speaks of him, even the things he got out of devotion for her. They are still his devotion. In the safety of these walls, V lives on."

Perhaps he didn't come here to sort out V's belongings. His subconscious might have led him here to seek shelter from the disasters in the ghost of V's warmth. His spirit could even linger here. Jumin longed for a sign that his fascination with the occult would be proven true.

Her eyes swept through the house, taking in the mismatched antiques that V dearly loved. Jumin wondered what impression they left on her, if she could see what he saw and felt what he felt. "Do you think he's saying anything right now?"

"If he does, I cannot catch it. He's too distant from me to predict," Jumin said without inflection. "It wasn't always like this."

She studied him—not with pity, he noticed with a muted surprise—but sorrow. It felt too much like a burden that he had to change the subject.

"Have you ever had to bury someone you love?" he asked.

She faced ahead. There was a remote look in her eyes that pulled her from the present as if she was reliving a bygone time. At that moment, she felt almost as distant as V was. Jumin did not know yet how that would feel, but he realised with a pang that she had known unbearable pain, and wished he had been there for her. "Yes," she said. "I wanted to claw them out."

He did not quite share her feelings. Rather than unearthing V's corpse, Jumin wanted to revive him through the debt of unfulfilled promises, or necromancy. But here was someone who understood. He wouldn't take her for granted. He had lost enough in this life.

"It must be suffocating inside," Jumin noted.

She nodded. "It's probably good that he can't feel pain anymore."

Jumin didn't have to ask which he she was referring to. "I would've been happy for him if he didn't leave a mess behind."

"I heard what you said earlier when you blamed him for leaving without you," she said, watchful gaze seeking a change in his expression. "Did you want to go with him?"

Jumin's jaw tightened. "I want him not to go at all."

"He must have been special for you to love him that much."

Jumin scoffed. "He was definitely extraordinary, to have wreaked this much havoc in the RFA. V is—was complicated. Despite all the things he'd done, I can't see him as anything but a good friend, but the magnitude of his faults isn't something I can look past either."

"I think he tried to do good at the end," she said. "I was there when he tried to right his wrongs. I saw his sacrifices, but we can't neglect the casualties and how he dealt with things. I wish he understood that one poor decision could snowball into something too massive to handle alone."

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions." It was an axiom that Jumin came across when he was young, but its meaning never dawned on him until he was forced to see it in V's downfall. "Trying to understand V is like reading a book you love upside down in a mirror. Deep down, you know the story is one that you keep close to your heart, but you struggle to make sense of it when the words are jumbled. It's hard for me to accept that V had changed so thoroughly without my knowing."

She rested her back against the doorframe, stretching out her legs until their toes almost touched. "It may be that he was neither good nor bad. It's impossible to box people into two rudimentary options."

Jumin laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, he was no doubt a bad parent to the twins."

She sighed. "A child should be loved and protected, and it's always more important that they feel your love. It's not their job to constantly convince themselves they're safe and loved. It should be easy for them to know how much love they deserve without worrying it would be taken away if they're not good enough." There was a frown between her brows that Jumin itched to ease out. "It wasn't just V, but Rika too. One through passive neglect, the other active violence." She put her hands into her skirt pockets, her voice softened. "Do you hate the twins? Saeran?"

The mention of Saeran was a blow to his gut, as it did whenever he imagined Saeran firing the gun at V, a scene that he never got to witness. Jumin was not sure if it was good that he never did, for now he was left to forever wonder how V felt in his final moments. The loud bang was all he heard when he stood outside the locked gates, and his desperation to get to V was the only thing that kept him upright on his feet.

"V failed the twins. Half of his failure is mine, and I consider it my duty to finish what he started," said Jumin in a tone that brooked no contradiction. "The RFA is family. That includes Saeyoung's lost brother. I have to protect them. You've seen how much danger they're in. I would've helped V if I had known. I have the power and resources at my disposal." His gaze strayed to the unopened Romanée-Conti bottle on the copper side table in the living room. Jumin had gifted the wine to V after a trip to France, but he never got to taste it. There were a lot of things V would never get to do. "I would have, if only he'd asked."

She unhitched herself from the wall and stepped closer to him. In all bewilderment, his breath halted. He had thought it impossible to feel anything but numbed anguish since V died. "You have a remarkable capacity for forgiveness and an even more remarkable heart, Jumin." She laid her palm on his chest, right on top of his beating heart. "I've always admired your compassion—I haven't forgotten how you flew back home the minute you knew I was living with a bomb—but you still surprise me with how good you are. Not everyone can do what you do, and you do them without being forced. Among all the people I've met, you're one of the kindest. No wonder V chose you as his best friend. I would too."

Her words were awfully gentle and soothing, urging him to pull her into his embrace and let down his armour. It was such an outlandish desire that Jumin found himself almost reaching for his phone to inform V about his latest emotional development, the realisation catching up a second late that V's phone was in his possession now, that it would just ring in his pocket and he wouldn't hear any more Jumin, it's you. How is Elizabeth the Third? and he wouldn't exhale in relief because V sounded fine, there was nothing wrong with him or their friendship, and he could finally sleep without relying on wine.

The deepest wound V left behind was the loneliness Jumin didn't know he was capable of feeling. He could not reminisce about V with anyone because no one knew him exactly like Jumin did. No one knew V used to have a spark of mischief in his eyes that he would cover up by feigning innocence and everyone but Jumin would fall for. No one knew V used to laugh with abandon when they snuck out of their childhood homes and raced to catch the sunrise breaking over Han River. Even Jumin's impeccable memory might not stand a chance against time. He might forget the sound of V's laugh as age corroded him. There would be no one to keep V alive after he passed.

Jumin put away her hand, not daring to indulge in the feel of her skin. "You give me more honour than I deserve."

"Because you don't give yourself enough."

Jumin stared at her with bleak despair. "Have you ever thought that I may not want to choose him back? That if I could go back in time, I may not want to begin this friendship with him, knowing how he would end?"

She tilted her head and watched him sadly. "V kept the contract too."

"The contract the two of you signed when you became friends. He kept it in his pocket." She carefully unfolded a yellowing paper from her pocket and handed it to him.

Jumin blanched. Whatever argument he was about to launch dissipated into thin air.

"What?" he croaked, the question scratching at his throat.

With trembling hands and quick strides, Jumin brought the paper to the windowsill. The sky above the slated roof was a fiery blaze that burnished their childish signatures with orange light. Jumin could feel the flames of fury licked at him, though for what he couldn't reason. It was V keeping yet another secret when Jumin thought he had lost his copy of the contract. It was the guilt of swearing not to forgive V when V had cherished him until his end.

Jumin bowed his head over V's barely legible handwriting, scrutinising every swoop and slant that dictated the start of their friendship. I hereby declare myself a friend to Han Jumin. At the end was a measly drawing of a toy car in green ink that had faded with time. There was dried blood staining the edges of the paper, blood both new and old.

"Why are you giving this to me now?" Jumin asked tersely.

She stood by his side. "I thought you wouldn't want to see it with everyone around."

Jumin couldn't peel his eyes away from the paper. The words were starting to morph into one another. It was the shortest contract he had ever signed. He had thought it effective. Now he wondered whether the contract length was directly and infernally proportionate to the period of their friendship. He should have included a clause to prevent his idiotic friend from doing anything that tempted death.

Jumin clutched the broken contract to his chest, hunching over it like it was V's lifeline, his breathing quickly becoming erratic. There was an awful pressing against his ribcage, a grotesque need to grieve with emotions bursting out of him as he had implored V to do when he thought V was mourning for Rika, but he couldn't. He had locked himself in this glass prison for as long as he could recall, and now he was paying the price. Thick, unscalable walls closed in around him. No matter how hard he pushed, he could not break through. He could not cry.

His best friend had died and he could not shed a tear.

"It's okay if you can't cry. It's okay," she muttered close to his ear. "You're not wrong for not crying. I know you're hurting. You don't have to prove that with your tears."

His breathing was out of his control. The sea air was choking him. He wanted to check on his cufflinks and tie clip and whether the tuck of his shirt was perfectly even on all sides. He wanted to fall to his knees.

He felt an arm around his shoulders and a hand gripping him, enveloping him with a warm, decadent scent that he always associated with her.

"I was supposed to go first," Jumin heaved out, words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them.

She stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"I was supposed to go first," he said. "When we were teenagers, V promised he wouldn't die before me. He'd always been reckless and I was afraid of losing him, so I made him swear an oath. I thought I could keep him alive if I tied him to me."

Her face contorted in pain. "It's not your fault, Jumin. You can't change his decision when it's not yours to change. V has chosen his path and you can't follow him. You can't."

But Jumin wasn't listening. "For years when I forgot how to be human, I only ever had to turn to V as my reminder. He was my mirror of truth. In the steadfastness of his friendship, I found the conviction in myself that I am human, that I am capable of being generous and kind and all the things you mentioned. I can only stand before you and be the person you admire because of V. I owe him my entire life, but it is not much of a life to live when he won't be there to see the end of it."

"It's still your life. That is important." Her fingers slid up his jaw and cradled his face with tenderness. It was the closest Jumin ever got with anyone, the most loving touch he had ever received. It made him want to simultaneously shatter into pieces and pull himself together. "I wish V knew how loved he is. I can see how much goodness he inspired in you, and you in him. I'm sorry you lost him so soon. You should have had more time."

"I thought we put in each other the same amount of faith," Jumin said. "I thought our shared history meant more to him. I knew he had secrets and trusted that he kept them with the best intentions. That trust was misplaced."

"You trusted him because he gave you no reason to doubt him. It is as you said. How could you have known that your closest friend went behind your back when all he had been was good to you?"

"I don't know." Jumin's reply was a whisper of a broken boyhood dream. "Twenty years I have called him my best friend and gloried in the truth of it right before my eyes. Now I don't even know how to be without him."

"Oh, Jumin." Her hands slipped to the back of his neck and held him close. Soft wisps of her hair tickled his cheek. "You will learn. It will be tough, but there's no other way. You just live through it, one day at a time. But know that I'm here with you."

There was no one who could see through him as well as V did, no one who could understand him with a single glance and infinite patience. Jumin wondered if he would catch V's exact shade of turquoise on anyone else's head. He wondered if he wanted to.

"Thank you," Jumin mumbled into her neck, allowing himself to stay in that position for five seconds, counting them in his head, before pulling away. "I must ask you something. How did you know that V had the contract on his person?"

She hesitated. "It fell out when we were locked in the cult prison and Saeyoung... hurt him out of anger. I saw V putting it back into his pocket. It was the first thing he salvaged when Saeyoung stopped. I'm sorry I couldn't stop him. I tried to shield V but Vanderwood dragged me back."

A bolt of pain struck Jumin when he realised it was how V got the bruises that he inspected on the cold metal table in the mortuary. And another when it hit him that she might have got injured during the commotion.

Jumin grasped her elbows and scanned her figure, wondering if the long sleeves and skirt were to cover up the bruises. "Were you hurt?"

She seemed startled but quickly recovered. "Not intentionally."

His stomach dropped with dread. "Then why did you intentionally throw yourself before someone who meant harm? Have you no concern for yourself?"

"I thought the kicks were getting too much for V," she said. "And for you. Your heart would break if you saw him so battered. He didn't even try to protect himself, Jumin."

"Neither did you, it seemed."

"Better I get hurt than him. He was already so weak. He couldn't anticipate the blows because he was blind. I don't think he even wanted to. He just lay there sputtering apologies and claimed all Rika's faults as his." The arch of her chin was a challenge, and in it, Jumin saw the quality that attracted him to her, not that he would mention it at the moment. "Tell me you wouldn't do the same."

He was starting to suspect he gravitated to a certain type of people. "That is hardly a fair comparison," he gritted through his teeth. "You don't know him like I do."

"Do I have to befriend someone to protect them?"

Jumin shot her a sharp look. "You should have known the danger you were in."

"And I know you love him!" she snapped.

Jumin was stunned. She was not one to lose her composure, least of all at him.

"You love him," she said again, lower this time, "so I looked after him."

"God." Jumin put his palms over his face, trying to ignore the convoluted pain that twisted and thrashed in his chest. Yet another person he failed to take care of, added to his list of failures. It was a short list, but the guilt would stay for a long while.

"Jumin," she said. "I know my limit. And it was Saeyoung. Beneath his anger was grief. I had to trust that he wouldn't do anything deadly to me. Besides, he's apologised and I've got myself checked up. Only bruises. Nothing fatal."

Jumin's hands fell to his sides. "Only?" he said incredulously. "He could have caused serious harm to you."

She lifted her brow. "Do you prefer V to take the brunt of it instead?"

Jumin stared at her in disbelief. "You can't do that. You can't be like him and sacrifice yourself recklessly to save people. Do you expect me to be grateful if my peace is paid with your blood?"

"It was quite strategic, actually," she said. "We split the pain between us. Not at all reckless."

"Don't you start."

She pressed her lips together, dissatisfied.

"I just wish to protect all that I care about," Jumin said. "I never want you or him to get hurt, but he did and now he's dead and there's only you left, so I can't"—he choked, pain lancing through him like wildfire—"I can't lose you either."

She closed her eyes briefly then took his hand, pressing it against her cheek. "You're not losing me. I'm alive, right here," she said. "When I was at Mint Eye, I could hold on because of you. I was thankful that you weren't there, that you were safely out of reach. And then you burst through the doors. I was horrified. I didn't want you to see V like that. I didn't want you to be near those elixirs and weapons." She kissed his knuckle, the softness of her lips sending shivers up his arm. "I'm just as afraid of losing you."

Jumin brushed a thumb across her cheekbone, guilt and helplessness roiled in him. "I'm sorry for getting angry. It isn't like me to lose my temper."

She shook her head. "You also just lost your best friend. Grief can pull out the worst in us and make us do things we don't normally do."

He sighed. "V has a salve here somewhere," he said stiltedly, unsure how to act in the face of kindness so unexpected in times like this. "Let me tend to your injuries. It's the least I can do."

She smiled. "Later. Let's not be too eager to get me out of my clothes."

Jumin nodded and placed the contract on the side table, tucking the edge beneath the Romanée-Conti. Somehow Jumin could tell she was being honest. She had never shied away from the cold truth, and it didn't seem like she was about to now. He didn't think he could bear it if she treated him like a fragile thing the way everyone around him seemed to.

A framed picture on the wall caught his attention. It was a photo of V and Jumin in their school uniforms sitting in the car, Jumin looking sullen while V sporting a wide grin. V was still an amateur photographer then, so the picture had more ceiling than boys.

Jumin remembered that day as vividly as the sting of chilli that had burned his tongue. V had been on a rebellious streak and dragged Jumin to ditch Driver Kim after school for a cup of tteokbokki by the street. While the rice cakes had a strange, pleasant chewy texture, their digestive systems were unprepared for the unhygienic street food.

It was the most horrendous stomachache Jumin had ever experienced.

After snapping the picture, V had fallen asleep on his shoulder while he recited his defence arguments for V, knowing only the harshest scolding was waiting for V at home. But V was stubborn. He would always pursue more adventures, and wherever V was, there Jumin was as well.

Jumin missed the weight of V's head on his shoulder, the feeling of V trusting and depending on him. They were always Jumin and V, V and Jumin, two inseparable boys who tried to make their gold-spun lives into something bigger than themselves but found solace in one another instead. They understood each other's familial pains and knew the right things to say when one was hurting. They made each other better just by existing.

"Did V mention me when you were with him?" asked Jumin.

"I'm sorry," she started, and he immediately wanted to stop listening. "He only blamed himself and talked about stopping Rika by giving himself up. But that doesn't mean he didn't care about you." She gestured at the contract. "That itself proves it."

Jumin thought he would be hurt, but there was only numbness inside him. "What were his last words?"

"Something about always being with Rika like the sun. How she was the love of his soul."

Jumin chuckled bitterly. Of course V would weave nonsensical poetry at his dying breath. He recalled his speech at the party a couple of days ago. Many people ignore the inconvenient truth for the sake of being comfortable, but true happiness only comes when one has faced that inconvenience. Now faced with the blunt truth, he found no joy to glean from it. He would never know V's final thoughts about him. In the end, even the truest truth couldn't bring V back alive.

"You said V has chosen his path," said Jumin, staring past the swaying grass outside, "but the path he walks on is a lonely one, and he walks it alone. Didn't he know that I would've carried his burden with him?"

But even as he spoke, he knew it was precisely why V couldn't confide in him. V, who would take every problem upon himself, who wouldn't let anyone suffer in his stead, whom Jumin wouldn't call Jihyun again because V hadn't permitted him to.

He could wait forever for a chance to call him Jihyun. He was still waiting for it.

"I'm confident he knew," she said. "He'd have to be blinder than he was not to see how selfless you are."

The corner of Jumin's mouth quirked up, but it wasn't a smile that reached his eyes. "V was the selfless one."

"It's not a competition."

He glanced at her. "Do you think he's reincarnated somewhere?"

The temperature was dropping as night approached. She shifted closer to him. "If he did, I hope he'd live a peaceful life."

"No," Jumin said adamantly. "He's done too many awful deeds to be reincarnated as a human. He should be an animal. A cat would be fitting."

She frowned. "I thought you liked cats."

"Humans and cats are two different things. I like cats. I have no desire to be one." His mind was set. V must be reincarnated. Only then Jumin could meet him again and forgive him. "I'll be on the lookout for emerald cats in case it's V. I'll provide him with everything he needs. He won't have to put himself in danger again."

If there was anyone Jumin loved more than himself, it was V. There was nothing he wouldn't do for him. And if V was threatened with a loaded gun, there was no saying that Jumin wouldn't take the bullet for him. How could he hate V for doing something that he would do himself? Perhaps they were more similar than he thought.

"Elizabeth the Third would welcome a green friend," she agreed.

"Of course." Jumin fixed the lapel of his black suit. V had bestowed Elizabeth the Third with her majestic name. There was nothing in Jumin's life that V had left untouched. "I need a drink."

Her eyes flitted from the childhood picture to him, her face mirroring the unending pain that wrapped around his heart, and he knew she had seen through him. "I brought wine," she said. "But first, dinner. I'll be disappointed if you let my cooking go to waste."

"You're caring for me," Jumin said. "You have been since the beginning. What an odd feeling. No one has ever cooked for me aside from my chef and V." He observed their elongating shadows on the hardwood floor, how they melded into the looming darkness in the room. "My utmost appreciation. That applies to your care for V as well."

She simply nodded and twined her chilled fingers with his.

Outside, the boiling red sky was dissolving into black. The sun hung low over the violent waves crashing against the cliff. She clicked on the light switch, and Jumin watched the light reflected off the picture frame glass, obscuring V's and his youthful faces. He followed her to the dining table, feeling like an intruder in his dead friend's home, listening to the ghost of their laughter over clattering plates from another time, silently willed him to come home, then pulled out a chair for her and ate in silence.

Footnotes:

Sunset as the atmospheric setting was logical and metaphorical. Timeline-wise, this fic is set a few hours after the burial took place at around noon. The metaphor comes from how V, the self-described sun, has died. The sun has to set now. It was a fun challenge to portray a scenic sunset alongside the dark theme of grief. But hey, beautiful and depressing are a perfect description of V.

This is the most planning and note-taking I've ever done for a fic because it closely follows the canon events! The bullet points, annotations, personal arguments and analysis are LONG.

It's also my most planned characterisation for MC. I usually figure out their personality as I write, but since I replayed the Secret Ending, I'd known I wanted to give Jumin someone who understands grief and loss and knows how to navigate the conversation without being too pushy. He's so lonely there. He doesn't know how to reach out and nobody can be there the way he needs.

My initial plan was to make this fic Jumin-focused without an MC, but then she entered the scene and from the way their interaction was going, it would've been wrong not to make them have feelings for each other for a while. I meant to show that love can coexist in your worst grief, and sometimes you find out how loved you are through those who stay after the external noise dies down.

Used Jumin's line at the funeral "he was a good friend, a good teacher, and a mirror of truth. I will never forgive you for leaving on your own" as a guide for his reverent and bitter sorrow about V. The usage of mirrors in his dialogues was also inspired by this.

I reflected on why Jumin directs all his resentment to V when Rika did even worse things, which isn't a very rational thing to do unlike what he believes, until it occurred to me that it's normal. Grief doesn't make sense. His emotions are bound to be all over the place when he just lost his closest friend whether he realises it or not.

Actually, I added Jumin and MC's argument during the later edits and it just felt right. We know Jumin is capable of outbursts when he's anxious, like when he confronts V on Jaehee's route or when he slams his hand against the wall to trap MC on his.

Jumin may think that as a kid, he was the one who followed V everywhere, but I think V would disagree. V craved friends and expressed it more than him. It was V who asked for the friendship deal after all.

Jumin tends to use metaphors i.e. the analogy of Yoosung watching V painstakingly pick apples and the concept of his dark threads, so I thought it wouldn't be OOC if he came up with the rock bottom and book-in-mirror metaphors. And, this man had been friends with V for decades—their linguistic choices were bound to seep into each other's to some degree.

The reincarnation idea came from the reincarnation trope in kdramas! I think Jumin, an avid soap opera/drama watcher, would find it fascinating.

Header Corner:

I caved. I've never put this much effort into a header. I wanted to find the balance between the raw grief and Jumin's modern sophistication, hence the strong gradients and sleek font. The movement is minimal, the text is small, the vast space is hollow, and the music is stripped down to 2 simple chords, all to instil the emptiness that Jumin feels.

The colours have double meanings: blue for the sea / deep sadness, and orange for the sunset / bitter anger and intense concern.

When the scene opens, the orange and blue lights take up the space, slightly touching before they part. It's Jumin's denial of V being dead, still calling for him while being anxious and miserable. Then the realisation sets in. Orange shifts to red in Jumin's stubborn refusal to forgive while blue disappears to make way for the dark, engulfing isolation.

Here are some alternative style frames before I decided on the current one!

Music credit: Sad Piano Music (no copyright) by Tushar Sharma

Buy me a glass of something that's definitely not coffee because I can't stand it but it is the website's name if my story touches you in some way? No worries if you don't. I'm still grateful you've read all the way through here.

#i've wanted to write about this since 2016 but didn't know how to approach it and do it justice until now #xela writes #jumin x mc #mystic messenger #jumin han #mystic messenger fanfic #jumin han angst #mysme #jumin han fic

[anas-tasiaa]

A good reminder that all the lullabies and the songs that Saeran know, he's most likely heard it from Saeyoung when he was still a kid. To think that Saeran learn about the outside world through Saeyoung, Saeyoung is his "world". To saeran, Saeyoung is his older brother, his mother, his father, his guardian, his friend, his teacher, his savior, his salvation, his everything.

UGHHH precious babies I want to keep them in my pocket 😭❤️❤️❤️

#anas twin post #saeran choi #saeyoung choi #mystic messenger #707 #saeran #I LOVE THEM SO MUCH #I WANT TO KEEP MAKING POSTS LIKE THIS. #SHUT UP YOU ALL #I WOULD CONTINUE TO SPREAD THE LOVE OF CHOITWIN #🧡💕💗❤️💓💖💞🖤💜 #(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠❤

[space-kitten-606]

Growing Taller

"Saeran ~," Saeyoung chimed, as he skipped into their room, making the younger twin jump in surprise at the sudden noise. "Guess what month it is!!"

His eyes grew wide at the unexpected question. Looking around the room, Saeran tried to find an answer to his brother's question, even though he thought, it would be in vain. After all, even if the answer was posted around somewhere, he wouldn't be able to read it quickly.

"I dunno….but don't yell so much - if mommy hears, she'll be very angry…."

Saeran's voice was but a timid whisper, his gaze trained to the dusty floorboards.

Sighing at the fearful display, Saeyoung closed the door behind him.

"Don't worry. That woman is….sleeping," he said, his voice trailing off a bit at that last part. 

Then, he hurried to one of the old wooden shelves in their room, pushing it aside with relative ease. 

"It's june!", he answered his own question, his excitement returning immediately.

Behind the shelf, that was now out of the way, there was a poster Saeyoung had put up a few years back. Its light blue coloring clashed with the rest of the dilapidated room, alongside the stickers depicting stars and rocket ships Saeyoung had decorated it with, all of which he had received from the church.

"That means it's our birthday soon! And it also means that we get to see how much we grew!"

Saeran was silent for a moment. He really wanted to get swept up by his brother's excitement, but he couldn't quite find it in himself to actually do so.

"I probably didn't grow at all…"

Frowning a bit as he heard him say this, Saeyoung pulled a black felt liner from his pocket.

"Of course you did. You can't not grow. Plus I can tell by looking at you that you're much taller than last year!"

Saeran's eyes lit up at that.

"Really??" he asked, making the other laugh happily at the sight of him coming out of his shell a bit. 

Saeyoung nodded excitedly, before pulling a little chair next to the poster.

"Can you measure me first?"

A bit nervous at this request, Saeran bit the inside of his cheek. Saeyoung had always been much taller than him, making it quite difficult for him to reach. As for the little chair Saeyoung was patting as he looked at him expectantly, Saeran lacked the confidence to climb it, too afraid he may fall and hurt himself. 

Still, he didn't want to disappoint his brother.

"Okay," he mumbled, shuffling over to the poster Saeyoung had already aligned himself with.

Standing on his tiptoes and holding on to Saeyoung with one hand, Saeran tried his best to draw a straight line above the top of his twin's head.

Once he was done, Saeyoung turned around quickly, wanting to see for himself. 

Saeran winced at noticing that the line he drew was rather crooked, making it difficult to make out which line from the poster it aligned with. 

He watched anxiously as Saeyoung squinted at the poster, not saying a single word.

"This…," he finally started, making Saeran tense up in anticipation of being scolded for doing such a bad job, "...is super awesome! That’s at least three centimeters!"

Surprised at the positive reaction, Saeran simply stared at Saeyoung, who had already grabbed the felt liner to put his name next to the crooked line before spinning around to Saeran.

"Your turn!!" He exclaimed, holding out his hand.

Taking a deep breath, Saeran grabbed the outstretched hand, allowing Saeyoung to guide him to the optimal place to stand.

"You have to stand very straight and not move, so I can see properly, okay?" Saeyoung instructed him, placing one of his hands on Saeran's chest to help him stand upright.

Focusing on getting an accurate measurement, Saeyoung stuck out his tongue, glancing at his brother's nervous face. As his hand moved above Saeran's head, Saeran held his breath, trying his hardest to not move an inch.

Saeyoung grinned at the cute sight and drew the line quite a bit above Saeran's actual size and much closer to his own.

"Got it!" 

Saeran almost jumped away from the wall, eager to see how he compared to his brother.

"I'm almost as big as you!" He exclaimed excitedly, struggling to believe his eyes. "...but I look so much smaller when I stand next to you…"

Saeyoung waved his concern off.

"That's because normally, we don't stand completely straight!"

Thinking about that explanation for a moment, Saeran pursed his lips. He wasn't quite sure if what Saeyoung said was true, but at the same time he had no reason to believe that he was lying. 

Walking over to the poster, he measured his distance of growth from last year with his finger, comparing it to the distance from this year.

"I grew much more this year," he recognized.

"Yup! That's because we're turning eight this year!"

Saeran started to count on his fingers.

In the meantime, Saeyoung continued his explanation.

"That means you're growing quicker now, because I'm taller than you and I will grow slower, until we're the same height and then we'll grow at the same speed!"

Scoffing, Saeran let his hands fall to his sides. "You made that up."

"Nope! I read it in a book at the church! It's because we're twins, so our genes will work hard to make us look the exact same!!"

Of course Saeyoung knew that this was utter nonsense and maybe it would've been for the better to just drop that claim when Saeran called him out. However, he knew very well how much Saeran wished to be more like him. Plus, for all he knew, his little brother might actually experience a growth spurt  some time in the future. 

"Let's make a bet!" He offered. "If I end up being wrong, I'll treat you to a bowl of ice cream with as many scoops as you want!"

Saeran's eyes lit up at the idea, before his smile faltered a little.

"What if I lose?"

Saeyoung thought about the question for a moment. Then he said:

"Well. If you lose that bet, not only will you be as tall as me, but I will still get the ice cream for you, except I get to choose the flavors - and we have to share!"

Saeran's smile returns at that notion.

"But I will always share with Saeyoung, even without having to."

A happy laugh escaped the other twin, before he engulfed Saeran in a big hug, almost throwing him to the floor.

As cruel as the world seemed to be to them, Saeyoung thought, at least they would always have each other as they would keep growing - together.

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger 707 #mystic messenger saeyoung choi #mystic messenger saeran choi #my writing #me? actually writing something? yeah Im surprised as well kekw #i hope i eleminated all the weird typos my phone autocorrected to #like a misplaced 'me'. like where did that even come from #whatever please enjoy lol

[pastelsapphy]

Inferno

"I wanted to bring here everyone that should get on their knees for Saeran. Me, that woman, and V..." Saeyoung Choi is not a man of mercy. He is a hellbound force of retribution with nothing left to lose. Those who hurt his brother will pay for it in blood. What if Saeyoung had brought V to the cabin too? Warnings: Major character death, murder, suicide, arson, death by fire, unhinged Saeyoung. Read on AO3 A/N: "Hey Luc, didn't you post this already?" Yes. And then I edited the post fifty times and added an AO3 link, so I wanted to make a neater post. Anyway, I wrote this at midnight because the thought wouldn't leave me alone. I wonder what Saeyoung's plan was if he'd gotten all three of them to the cabin like he'd wanted in VAE. Whatever it was, it wouldn't be pretty. And I think seeing both of the people he blamed Saeran's death in front of him... the thought that Saeran wouldn't want revenge wouldn't stop him. Not this time. The world needs more unhinged Saeyoung. Let him be angry and terrifying. I'm normally not a fan of unhappy endings, so maybe a miracle happens. Maybe Saeyoung ends up with a cool scar to match his brother's. Maybe not. Who knows.

There is an old clock in the cabin. Saeyoung isn't sure how it still works--it's not like anyone who comes out here is about to change the batteries or anything. Yet it works, filling the tiny wooden building with a steady tick, tick, tick as the seconds go by.

It's fitting, really. It's as if the universe is counting down the minutes. How many more does he have? Maybe it's only a few. Perhaps as much as an hour. Certainly not much more than that.

Tick, tick, tick.

He had already sent Vanderwood outside. Well, forced them out might be more accurate--they could tell something was wrong with Saeyoung. Of course, they knew about his brother by this point; they knew he was going to grieve, and grieving people do weird shit to cope. And Saeyoung is a weird guy to begin with. But something was just... off. It was a feeling in their gut. Something snapped in that kid's brain and Vanderwood wasn't keen on leaving him to his own devices.

"I'm not leaving you by yourself so you can do something stupid," Vanderwood had said.

"I know exactly what I'm doing, Vanderwood." Saeyoung did not shift his gaze away from the cabin's other two occupants. "It's in everyone's best interest if you wait outside."

"I told you I'm--"

"Get the fuck out!" Saeyoung snapped, briefly looking away to shoot a glare at the other agent.

Vanderwood had been momentarily stunned into silence. They yelled at Saeyoung on a regular basis--the kid had caused them so many headaches over the years--but never had Saeyoung snapped back like that. He would make smartass remarks, god knows he was full of them, but he never yelled. If he had ever been truly angry with Vanderwood, he had never shown it.

There was a long silence, broken only by the ever-present tick, tick, tick of the old clock. Then, Vanderwood had sighed and stood from their chair. "Fine. But if I think you're about to do something that will endanger both our lives, I'm coming back."

"You don't have to worry about that. Just wait outside, Agent."

Something about the way he said that sent a chill down their spine. Maybe it was his tone, now constantly laced with barely-restrained rage. Maybe it was the fact that he called them Agent. Maybe it was instinct. But after another moment's pause, they stepped outside the cabin. They reached into their pocket for their cigarettes, only to find them gone, along with their lighter. Must have left them in the cabin. By the time they turned around to check, Saeyoung had already latched the door behind them.

So now it's just the three of them, three people tied together by one unbreakable thread. Three people who weren't human anymore. Three monsters. Three killers with blood on their hands. The worst kind of scum, all responsible for taking the life of an innocent--someone too kind and pure for this world.

Saeran may have been the one to detonate the bomb that destroyed Magenta, but the three who sit in the cabin--Saeyoung Choi, Jihyun Kim, Rika Kim--are the ones responsible. They all killed Saeran. Saeran's blood coats their hands and would never, could never, be washed away.

Tick, tick, tick.

V, ever the mediator, is the first to break the silence. "Luciel--"

"Why?" The word tears itself from Saeyoung's throat, finally pushing past the lump of rage and guilt that threatens to strangle him.

"I'm sorry, Saeyoung," Rika says. "I'm so sorry for everything that happened. If I could go back, if I could trade my life for his--"

"You have no right to say that." Saeyoung spits, standing abruptly. "You have no! Right!"

Rika falls silent, her hollow-eyed gaze dropping to the floor. Saeyoung hates it. Her demeanor only angers him further. How dare she play the victim? Maybe the 'it's all my fault, I'm the worst, I deserve retribution' thing would garner sympathy from other people, but not Saeyoung. He, in fact, wholeheartedly agrees. It is all her fault. She is the worst person in the world. She does deserve retribution. The same goes for V and himself.

"Luciel--" V tries again.

"And neither do you!" Saeyoung's venom now turns to him. "Don't you dare say anything about sacrifice. It means nothing. It won't bring him back. It won't change what you did to him."

Tick, tick, tick.

"I trusted you," Saeyoung says. "I. Trusted. You. You promised me--you swore to me that you would protect him! How could you--" his voice cracks. "How could you do that to him? Saeran was good. Saeran was innocent. Saeran was kind, and gentle, and he deserved to be loved. But you--you--"

He lets out a frustrated noise, unable to turn his thoughts into words. His mind is nothing but a loop of rage, rage, rage. Rage and vengeance and shame and guilt.

"You killed him," he finally growls. "Both of you killed him. And... so did I. Every one of us is responsible for what happened to him."

"Luciel," V tries again. "We--" he sighs. "Please, Luciel... if anything, do not blame yourself--"

"How?" He snaps. "How?! I trusted you both to look after him. To care for him. To treasure him. And instead, you manipulated and brainwashed him. You tortured him just like our mother did." He feels a twisted sense of satisfaction at the pained gasp Rika lets out, as if she's been stabbed through the heart.

Saeyoung decides to twist the knife further. "Actually, you were even worse than our mother. At least she never lied to us. We knew from the beginning that she only wanted us to get money from our father, that she never loved either of us. But you? You lied. You promised to protect us, to help us. But in the end you were just the same. You gave us hope only for your own selfish needs.

"Saeran spent every day of his life living in fear while you beat all the kindness and gentleness out of him.

"And you--" Now he speaks directly to V. "You did nothing to stop her. Fuck all your excuses. I don't care about your sacrifice. You were only ever concerned with her. You were only ever protecting her. If you had really wanted to protect Saeran then you would have saved him from her. You can martyr yourself all you want, it won't make you any better than her."

Tick, tick, tick.

The air in the room shifts abruptly. It's charged, thrumming like a livewire. The explosive anger evaporates in an instant; it's replaced by something far more terrifying.

"All of Saeran's killers must be held responsible for what happened," Saeyoung says. His anger is no longer a raging inferno. Now, his anger is like ice. It's calm, now. No less intense, but calm. As if he had long ago decided a course of action.

Tick, tick, tick.

Saeyoung crosses the room and reaches for something behind one of the chairs. He wonders, briefly, what his brother's last moments were like. How did the bomb detonate? Had Saeran simply pressed a button and ended it, or was he forced to sit there and listen as a timer counted down his last minutes on Earth?

Tick, tick, tick.

Rika does not react, but V's eyes widen when Saeyoung lifts a large, red plastic canister from behind the chair. "Luciel, what are you--"

Saeyoung unceremoniously upends the container in the middle of the cabin's main room. The liquid quickly soaks into the carpet and the wood flooring, and the heavy smell of gasoline fills the room.

Tick, tick, tick.

"Luciel! Wait, let's talk about this--" V has risen to his feet, but freezes when Saeyoung pulls a beat-up zippo from his pocket.

"Talk?" Saeyoung says, laughing. "Talk?! You had years to talk, V, but you stayed silent and let Saeran suffer. The time for talking has long since passed."

Tick, tick, tick.

He flicks the lighter open with a small metallic clink.

"Saeran wouldn't want this," V tries. His half-blind, once-honest eyes are wide and desperate.

"Don't you dare speak his name!" Saeyoung shouts. "You don't deserve to say his name."

"Please--"

"It doesn't matter anymore what he would have wanted."

It's then that V notices the tears running down Saeyoung's cheeks, the tremble in his voice. Had he ever seen Saeyoung cry before?

"He's gone. And he's never coming back. And those responsible need to pay for it.

"Heh... you know, this is the first time I wished I could get into Heaven," Saeyoung continues, voice breaking. "Just for a few minutes. Just long enough to apologize to Saeran. For everything. For not being able to protect him. For leaving him. For being a terrible brother. For betraying him. For failing him. Beg for his forgiveness. All of us should."

Tick, tick, tick.

Saeyoung lets out a low chuckle. "Knowing Saeran... he would probably forgive us. Not that any of us deserve it. So perhaps it's better this way."

Tick, tick, tick.

"Take your revenge, Saeyoung." Rika's voice is hardly above a whisper, yet it seems so loud in such a small space.

Tick, tick, tick.

Saeyoung lowers himself to the ground, thumb on the wheel of the zippo. The gasoline soaks into the legs of his jeans. His head feels light, and he's not sure if it's from the fumes or if it's a weight lifting off his shoulders.

Tick, tick, tick.

"You wanted us all to be a family, right?" He says.

Tick, tick, tick.

"Then let's go to Hell together."

Tick, tick,

Click

Tick--

BOOM.

#mystic messenger #saeyoung choi #v mysme #rika mysme #707 mysme #choi saeyoung #saeyoung mysme #saeyoung mystic messenger #v mystic messenger #jihyun kim #kim jihyun #jihyun mysme #jihyun mystic messenger #rika mystic messenger #rika kim #kim rika #707 #707 mystic messenger #seven #seven mysme #seven mystic messenger #luciel choi #choi luciel #luciel mysme #luciel mystic messenger #VAE #V After Ending #luc rambles #luc writes

[k0kichiimagines]

okok you know that trend on tiktok where you give your s/o your hand and just see what they do? yeah

mystic messengering it

zen : confused, questions you about it and when you just shrug he grabs it gently, and then either kisses the back of it or presses it against his cheek and winks at you. "prince/ss?"

yoosung : he'll ask if you want something or want him to pass you something, and he might grab the nearest object to him and start handing you them all in an attempt to guess whatever it is you want.

jaehee : she'll just stare blankly at you, and then offer you a sip of the coffee she was drinking. "did you want some, love? no? im afraid i dont know what you want then ..."

jumin : "do you need something ?" "nope." cue him just staring as he works out what you need, deciding to hold your hand gently while he ponders over it. once he notices your smile, he decides that's potentially what you were after, and kisses the top of your head

saeyoung : he will literally just start putting honey butter chips in your palm until you tell him to stop. or he'll lick your hand. either or, take your pick. (don't worry, he'll kiss you as you complain as an apology)

[ge] saeran : instantly holds your hand, smiling brightly and tugging you closer to him to kiss your face in some way. or perhaps he'll question if you want something if he's near objects. but most likely the first one

v : "hm?" he figues that if you need something you'd ask, but he questions anyway and then just takes your hand and puts it in his cardigan pocket, or if its hot he keeps it outside, rubbing circles on your hand gently

vanderwood : "what?" he eyes it so suspiciously you can't help but laugh, which just makes him even more suspicious . "what?" once you tell him you judt wanted to see his reaction he sighs and says to stop spending time around seven, and then holds your hand

rika : "..?" she looks at you for a second , and then places her hand in yours with a sweet smile. "hello, darling." she'll pull you closer to her as well

#mystic messenger #saeran #zen #yoosung #jaehee #jumin #saeyoung #v #rika #vanderwood #x reader

[kusukixcrystal]

Zen & Rika are Trapped in The MM World Part 1

I’m splitting this into 2 parts because it would just be too long. This is sort of a continuation of my “Zen is A Prince From Grass” theory and “Saeran/Ray created Another Story” posts. In one of them, I suggested the possibility that Zen is a bunny prince who is trapped in the Mystic Messenger world. In the other, I do talk about Saeran, but I added a follow-up delving into Rika, Saeyoung, and V and how Rika is trapped in the MM world, too.

In this post, I will focus mainly on establishing background information.

Pocket Universes/Dimensions

First, I have to establish that I believe that the world of MM is a pocket universe. Basically, it's a new universe completely different from a real universe. For example, characters from Nameless and Dandelion all live in a real universe. Dandelion is where the term ‘pocket universe’ first comes up in the franchise, and refers to a new universe created by The Wizard by using a large amount of his power. He did this because he wanted to be with a woman named Heejung, but couldn’t descend to Earth because he couldn’t leave his dimension. So, he created a pocket universe where he can enter it and brought Heejung along.

So, why do I think MM is a pocket universe? Well, basically pocket universes don’t operate under the same rules as a real universe. See the example I gave above with The Wizard and Heejung. In a real universe, The Wizard couldn’t physically be in her presence. In this pocket universe, it's different. Because he made it and probably established the laws of how this universe works, he physically can be with Heejung.

In my previous posts, I mention off-handedly how the MM world is ‘fabricated’ or ‘fake’. This is what I mean. It's not a ‘real universe’ but a ‘pocket universe’, operating under different rules and created by wizards.

I hope that makes sense. Now let’s get into all the signs of why MM seems to be a pocket universe.

These signs mostly manifest as the 4th wall breaks or references we see throughout the whole game. It’s not just a “hehe haha this is a videogame” thing from Cheritz. It's diegetic. No, it’s the characters literally realizing that they are living in a pocket universe. As for the references, I will go deeper into their relevance. First I will list the most relevant of these instances, and then break down why it's all important in part 2.

I won’t list all examples of 4th wall breaks, but here are some big examples:

1. Casual Story Common Route Bad-ending (4th Wall Break)

I discussed this ending extensively in another post, so I won’t get into too much detail. Basically, this ending shows how the RFA members might be machines, following an algorithm/script, and being controlled by V and Saeyoung. Yoosung says that the messenger is fake and that their only purpose is to hold the RFA parties. I also talked about how I think that V and Saeyoung are wizards who created this pocket universe. 

Just a tiny addition to this point is that Jaehee breaks the 4th wall in this ending as well. After Zen and Jaehee visit Yoosung, worried about him after he started raving about how they are machines. In the screenshot above, at first, Jaehee treated Yoosung like he was delusional, and sent him to get a mental health examination. Despite saying this, her last 3 messages indicate her true thoughts. She believes him and chastises the MC/player for getting this ending. You only get this bad ending if you either don’t participate in enough chats or don’t get enough hearts to get into a character route. Jaehee is directly telling the MC/player to choose a route next time. Some people can get this ending if they try to balance getting hearts with characters, too. That’s actually how I got this ending originally because I was indecisive and kinda wanted to see what would happen.

2. Another Story Common Route Bad-ending (4th Wall Break)

I went into detail about this one in my Saeran/Ray made Another Story post. In this ending, Saeran says that the RFA are AIs. In the surface story, this turns out to be a lie. Here in this bad ending, though, Ray talks about the RFA as if they actually are AI, even going as far as to mention Saeyoung (’that redhead’), asking if we played ‘his version’. I speculated that what he means by this is the Casual and Deep stories.

3. Dandelion and Nameless (References)

The first screenshot is from day 3 of the Casual story common route, the next 2 are from the April Fool’s DLC. 

Zen is dressed up as Jisoo from Dandelion in the first ss, which is apparently a play that is being adapted from a book. The other reference to Dandelion is in the 2nd ss, an animal hospital named Dandelion is mentioned by Jumin and Jaehee. The characters from that game were part cat/rabbits, so this ref goes deeper than just a name drop.

Nameless: The One Thing You Must Recall is referenced too. Tei’s Tea Leaf is one of the plays Zen starred in. This is a reference to Tei from Nameless, Cheritz’s game before this. (I don’t know where this is mentioned in the game). Another example is in the last screenshot, the password that Jaehee mentions is from the title of the game. There is also a big reference to Nameless in Deep Story that another Tumblr user named smol-grey-tea has brought to my attention.

The story that Jumin reads to MC directly references Nameless’ backstory, which is revealed in the true route in secret ending 2. Nameless is the character pictured above as ‘???’ and he is a stuffed bear. The scene that Jumin reads is when Eri’s grandfather buys Nameless for Eri. The person who gave this book to Jumin is Rika. I will talk about the significance of this later.

EDIT: Here’s part 2 btw

#dandelion wishes brought to you #dandelion #nameless: the one thing you must recall #nameless #mystic messenger #mm #mystic messenger theories #mm theories #mysme #mysme theory #mysme theories #cheritz #cheritzverse #cheritz theory #cheritz theories #heejung kim #jumin #jumin han #jaehee #jaehee kang #yoosung #yoosung kim #eri #wizard #zen #hyun ryu #jisoo #zen mm #yoosung mm #707 mm

[adoranoia]

YOUR MUSE'S INVENTORY. [original meme from @treasurechestrpmemes​.]

rules: list the things your muse carries in their pockets or bags in their every day life. ( optional: explain their significance. ) repost, don’t reblog.

>a personal phone, and a work/'burner' phone--his personal one is a fancy smartphone, and the work/'burner' one is a cheap flip-phone. both are decorated with cat and space stickers and hanging charms, his phone background is a childhood photo, of him and saeran. he also carries around one of those small portable phone chargers. ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ >headphones, aka the pair he's usually seen wearing around his neck, they're bright orange and have little cat ears built onto them. they're a comfort item, and he often wears them to not get overwhelmed with noise in busy, public places. >car keys, he's a big fan of cars and their mechanics in general. owns a convertible, fancy sportscar, bought with money from one his more high profile missions. it's kept in the parking garage of his apartment building. ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ >hunting knife, a birthday gift for his 15th birthday, given to him by one of the higher ups at the agency. despite the bad memories associated with it, (his first kill), it was also the first birthday gift he ever received, so he keeps it anyway. >a trick hand buzzer, feels pretty self explanatory, he just likes messing with people. actually tricked vanderwood with it, the first time they met. ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ >laptop, the back is decorated with more stickers, similar to his phones, and his backspace button has a little kitty paw keycap. >a mini toy/nerf gun, you know how when you're an adult, you realize you can just buy all the stuff you wanted as a kid? yeah.‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ >snacks, usually chips of some kind, or gummy candies, because he just likes the texture, okay. ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

#* && OOC #* && DASH COMM #* && PROMPTS #* && 707 : HAPPY-GO-LUCKY / HACKER . #poses dramatically............ for funsies for funsies

[sentinelpri]

Falling

The sound of falling rain echoes in Saeyoung’s ears as he sits at his computer, brain refusing to work. His headphones are secured over his ears, but the rain clambering on his metal roof makes a cacophony of noise that drowns out that of the music playing. It’s frustrating, but he knows there’s nothing he can do about it; it’s just part of spring creeping into summer. He tries his best to ignore the unwanted, uncontrollable noise and focus on work in front of him to no avail. Briefly, he hears the shuffling footsteps of Saeran in the kitchen.

Maybe he just needs newer, better headphones. 

With a huff, he takes the headphones off and leans back in his chair with his hands behind his head. Since quitting his old job and convincing Vanderwood to come along with him, life has been peaceful. The two men live with Saeran in Seven’s home with all three of them doing different freelance and online security work to make money. Saeyoung is happy to have the people he cares about safe and in one place, but life has become awfully… Boring.

No danger, no physical activity, and hardly any social interaction outside of the RFA chat rooms, Seven is- for the most part- incredibly bored. These days, he mostly just looks forward to making up lost time with Saeran and logging into the RFA chatroom. Life is mundane and repetitive now, but as many complaints as he has about that, he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

It’s late enough at night- or, early enough in the morning- that Vanderwood is asleep and Saeran is having his second midnight snack. Zen, Jaehee, and V are probably all asleep as well, and Yoosung is gaming, though he isn’t quite sure of Jumin’s whereabouts. Last he heard, the man was on a business trip in a different country, and though they’d texted sporadically over the past few days, he didn’t know much about what Jumin was doing. When he checked the messenger a few hours ago, he read that Jumin was about to be on a flight back relatively soon.

A small smile graces his lips as he thinks about the businessman. Since the last RFA party, they’ve been talking a lot more; texting, calling. Every once in a while, Jumin will hire Seven to do some work for him. They’re an awkward pair, but in a weird way, Seven thinks they work; their banter in the chat rooms, their phone calls, their joint work, he values all of it.

Right then, his phone starts to ring. He fishes it out of his jeans pocket and sees that it’s Jumin calling, so he decides to answer.

“Jumin? You usually don’t call at this time,” Seven pauses to do a spin in his computer chair, eyes on the ceiling as he holds his phone to his ear. “You must’ve just gotten off your flight! Need me for somethin’?”

“No, I just saw that you were online and decided to call. Are you typically up this late, Seven?”

“Ha, yeah, I guess you could call me a bit of a night owl! Crime only happens in the night, after all, and that’s when you’d need The Defender Of Justice the most!”

“Statistically, a lot of crimes are more likely to happen during the daytime.”

“Jeez, okay, Mr. walking encyclopedia!” Seven laughs and rolls his eyes. “Headed home right now, I’m assuming?”

“No, actually, Driver Kim is transporting me to V’s to pick up Elizabeth 3rd as we speak, but I will be headed home after that.”

“I’m happy to hear that! Should mean that you’ll be getting some well deserved rest, and in the morning, we can hash out that catbot idea I brought up to you in the chat room earlier!”

“Yes, yes,” Jumin responds with a chuckle, and Seven can just hear his smile over the phone. For whatever reason, it makes his heart flutter. “When are you going to get some rest? Or do you have work to finish?”

“Don’t you know? Justice never rests, Juju!”

“Stop calling me that.”

“In all seriousness, though, I’m not tired at all yet! I do have some stuff I could stand to be working on, but for some reason, I just can’t focus tonight… I’ll probably be up a bit.”

“I see… Don’t deprive yourself of sleep. It will alter your productivity… Or, if you care more about physical matters, it’s bad for your skin. Zen always claims that these late night to early morning hours are when your skin replenishes itself.”

“Since when have you listened to what Zen says?”

“Don’t misconstrue my words; I’m not having a change of heart regarding Zen,” Jumin mutters. Seven imagines his expression; cheeks dusted red and gaze askew. “Just offering you a different perspective about, er… The importance of a good night’s sleep.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

“Your dreadful sleeping habits aside, is it raining where you’re at as well?”

“You know it,” Saeyoung answers. As rain is falling on his roof, the same rain is falling on the windows of Jumin’s limousine, and they’re under the same sky. The sliver of warmth he feels in his chest at that thought is something he chooses to ignore in favor of talking to Jumin. “Can’t stand this kind of weather, to be honest.”

“Is that so? I find it quite peaceful. Why aren’t you fond of it?”

“Too loud!”

“For someone as loud as yourself, that’s quite the claim.”

“I know, I know, but there’s a difference between controlled noise and uncontrolled noise, y’know? I like loud music and I like being loud because I can control it and turn it off whenever I want! Rain just… Keeps on going. It doesn’t stop when I want it to, can’t turn it on and off. Get what I mean?”

“I suppose so. It makes sense when you explain it like that.”

“Am I the first one you called?”

“Yes,” Jumin answers without hesitation, pauses for a few seconds too long, and then continues. “I’m not sure why, but you’re the first person I thought of… I hope you don’t mind. I suppose I should’ve texted you first to make sure it was alright.”

“Oh, it’s no problem! Are you almost at V’s?”

“Yes, actually, I should hang up now.”

“Okay, tell Elly I said hello! Give her tons of hugs and kisses for me!”

“Goodnight, Seven. Sleep well, whenever you do… And take care.”

“Yeah, you too…”

Saeyoung realizes something is very, very wrong when he notices that he feels like something is missing at the end of the call. He opens his mouth to say ‘I love you’ without even thinking about it, but before he can out himself, Jumin hangs up on him, and it’s then that he processes the reality of what he almost just revealed.

I love you.

Oh. Oh, no.

It explains so much, and yet, he doesn’t understand it- rather, he doesn’t want to understand it. Deep down, he’s been aware that his relationship with Jumin is far from normal for a long time. They started out as nothing more than acquaintances through V, and over time, they developed something special. For every time Jumin banters with him in the group chat when the other RFA members are logged on, and for every time Jumin scolds him for putting himself into bad situations, he’s sure to also receive a picture of Elly or a warm phone call.

And maybe they aren’t best friends, but they’re something, and that’s always been enough for Seven- at least until now. Now, his feelings, his love, his attraction, his admiration; all these things he’s ignored and pushed down over the years are resurfacing, and he’s drowning in them. They’re bubbling up in his lungs, and suddenly, he can’t breathe.

He doesn’t have enough experience to handle the feelings on his own, and everyone is a disaster. So, as he holds his head in his hands, he figures he’ll continue doing what he’s been doing for years anyways.

Push the feelings deep down and hope they never resurface. Never say a word of it to anyone, avoid Jumin for dear life, and pray to God that this all returns to the back of his mind without him having to force it to do so. 

“What did you do?”

Seven nearly jumps out of his chair and drops his phone in the process at the sound of Vanderwood’s voice. His phone falls on the floor with a horrid clattering sound that makes him flinch. Fearful, he looks up to see Vanderwood standing in the doorway of the hall that connects to the room in which he works.

“Who said I did anything? You just scared the shit out of me!” He laughs in an attempt to calm himself down, heart racing.

“You’re making the face,” Vanderwood points out with a yawn. He’s dressed head to toe in cheetah print pajamas and matching houseshoes, and his light brown hair is even messier than usual. “And don’t try to deny it. We both know you always make that same face when you fuck something up.”

“Okay, maybe you’re right, but you have nothing to worry about! It doesn’t pertain to you, anyhow, it’s just a personal issue,” At that, Vanderwood quirks an eyebrow and gives him a very specific look of judgmental disbelief, so he continues. “Really! C’mon, dude, I’m a big boy, I can solve my own problems-”

“You can’t even make your bed, operate a washer or dryer, wash your own dishes, use a vacuum, or-”

“You don’t need to remind me,” Seven snaps. 

“You sure you’re good? Don’t need my help with anything?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Seven nods a little too enthusiastically. 

“If you say so.”

“What are you doing up this late?”

“Just getting water, duh,” Vanderwood spits the words like Seven’s question was ridiculous, then tapers off to the kitchen, footsteps practically inaudible. 

Seven just sighs and shakes his head. 

“What to do now…”

~~~

A week passes after that. While still active in the RFA chat rooms, Seven has been avoiding Jumin; not answering his calls, barely responding to his DMs, and leaving the chat room around the times that the other man usually logs on. It hasn’t helped with his feelings at all. If anything, the amount that he misses Jumin is unnatural, and it’s only making things much, much worse. However, he doesn’t plan on stopping- he’s already too deep, he thinks.

“Yo, Seven, you good?” Yoosung speaks, gently bumping his shoulder. Seven looks at the younger man to see that his violet eyes are filled with a mixture of concern and frustration. “You’ve been spacing out this whole game!”

Yoosung’s exclamation snaps him back to reality, and he looks at the blond to his right, then at Saeran, who is sitting to the left. It’s their biweekly LOLOL night, and while it’s usually his time to socialize and have fun, he can’t bring himself to pay attention. They’re playing 3v3, each with a laptop in front of them, and Seven has died at least four different times.

“Just fine, thanks!”

“How convincing,” Saeran muses with a roll of his seafoam eyes, then turns to talk to Yoosung like Saeyoung isn’t sitting right between them. “Obviously, something’s up with him, he just doesn’t care to say what it is.”

“C’mon, Saeran, you’re looking too much into it. Really, I’m fine!” Saeyoung insists, only to then die again. 

Saeran and Yoosung both groan. They’re losing the match so badly that it’s sure to tank their current rankings in the event. 

“You may be fine, but your gaming isn’t! You totally suck right now, man,” Yoosung complains and hurriedly slams some buttons on his keyboard. Seven is just surprised he hasn’t broken the damn thing yet. “You’re tanking us!”

“Yeah, your mind is obviously somewhere else,” Saeran sighs, healing both Yoosung and Seven, only for the round to end a few seconds later. Unsurprisingly, the margin between their team and the other one borders on being embarrassing. “Why not just take a break and come back to it after clearing your head?”

Seven doesn’t really want to stop playing, because if he does, that means he’s going to be alone again- alone with his thoughts. But, when he looks at Yoosung and Saeran’s faces, it’s clear that they don’t want him there if he’s just going to be distracted the whole time.

“Okay… If you guys say so,” Seven shrugs and shuts his computer off. “Have fun, I guess.”

Before he can even do anything, Saeran and Yoosung quickly stand up, computers in hand. Quick footsteps are heard on the wooden floor as the two retreat to Saeran’s bedroom. Then, the door is audibly locked. Seven lets out a huff and goes over to his work station, only to notice movement on the cameras. To his horror, Jumin is at his front door, trying to get in. The red-head turns the audio on as he cringes.

On one hand, he’d been hoping to just avoid Jumin forever, but on the other hand, he’s flattered that Jumin has taken the time to come see him after a long day at work.

“What exactly is this security system of yours? It’s baffling,” Jumin complains as he stands there with crossed arms, clearly frustrated with the automated voice telling him the passcode sentence is in Cantonese- a language that he obviously doesn’t know. 

“Oh, c’mon, Juju,” Saeyoung teases with a cackle through the microphone that connects to the camera outside. “You don’t know how to ask to go to the bathroom in Cantonese? I thought someone as well versed as you would-”

“Let me in or I’m leaving.”

He isn’t sure why he does it considering that he’s been avoiding Jumin for a week now and planned to keep it up, but he unlocks the door through his security system and allows Jumin inside before closing it again. He’s alerted of Jumin’s presence by slow, light footsteps in his living room, which has him turning around in his swivel chair to face Jumin with a smile…

Only for that smile to drop immediately at the sight of the man in front of him.

Saeyoung wants to light his body on fire and the world along with it when he thinks about the convoluted sort of crush that he’s developed. ‘Crush’ is a mild and juvenile term to use for it, really, but he’s afraid if he labels the big, bad feelings as something more serious, they’ll only get worse- hell, Saeyoung already thinks having these sorts of feelings for Jumin in the first place is the worst thing in the world. He’ll go through phases where he tells himself it’s a manifestation of his loneliness and nothing more, only to see Jumin like this and be reminded that it’s very much genuine and that there’s no escaping it.

And yes, he’s learned that holding onto love so tightly only makes it hurt more in the end when it slips from between his fingers, but he can’t help it; he’s afraid of too much of it slipping out and being known, because he can’t stand to be known, to be vulnerable. So, when he loves someone else, whether it be his family or his friends, he holds onto that love so tight that it makes his hands bleed. He’s self-aware and always has been- he just doesn’t care about himself enough to change his bad habits. 

He takes a step back and wrings his hands together as he tries to think of some sort of joke to ease the tension in the air. When he opens his mouth, though, nothing comes out, because all he can do is stare and he hates himself for it.

Jumin Han is pretty. He has soft, pleasant features that are always twisted into sharp, pointed expressions. Delicate, thin lips. A rounded jaw and chin. Deep grey eyes adorned with fluttering lashes and low set brows. Feathery, wispy, long obsidian locks of hair that frame every inch of his face perfectly and tickle the back of his narrow neck and the lobes of his reddened ears. He’s a little taller than Saeyoung, so he towers over the redhead when they stand too close. Just looking at the man is enough to make his mouth go dry.

To Saeyoung, Jumin is the calm to his chaos; the water to his fire, the moon to his tides, the grounding hands that hold his own when they’re shaking… Not that Jumin ever actually holds his hands. As always, Saeyoung keeps a reasonable distance. 

“You know, Saeyoung,” Jumin speaks, uncharacteristically casual as he paces around the room. Each time he passes where Saeyoung is sat in his computer chair, he runs a pale hand over the redhead’s shoulders. The unexpected touch makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, but whatever thrill he might’ve felt from it is killed by the tone Jumin takes with him when speaking his following words. “I’ve learned quite a bit in the years I’ve worked for my father’s company, and in what I’ve learned, I’ve developed a talent for reading the people around me.”

It’s an awkward approach, but it’s direct, not as stiff or as guarded as conversations with Jumin tend to be. The realization that this is a personal conversation rather than a work-related one fills the hacker with terror. It becomes very apparent very quickly that Jumin is not talking to 707, nor is he talking to the infamous cat abuser, defender of justice, LOLOL champion, or any of the other personas that he’s built- no, he’s talking to Saeyoung .

“Yeah, haha,” Oh, God. Saeyoung swears his voice cracks at the end of his laugh, as if he doesn’t already sound strained enough. For just a few moments, when he thinks Jumin isn’t looking he allows himself to cringe. Why is it so much easier to type random bullshit on a keyboard and do funny voices over the phone than it is to talk in person? Why can’t he just be normal when he needs to the most? Why is he suddenly so anxious? “Don’t tell me your magical, godly, brilliant ability to read your investors has something to do with why you came over today! Are you finally going to use my catbot companion idea for your company? Is that why you wanted to visit me so suddenly? I know it’s a great concept, but it’s pretty late-!”

“There’s a difference between your genuine humor and your defensive humor, and you unfortunately are trying to distract me from why I came here with the latter,” Jumin suddenly cuts off his nervous rambling with a sharp interjection and an equally sharp glare. 

“Defensive humor?” Saeyoung laughs, his face burning a shade that’s almost as dark as his hair. In an attempt to pretend like he isn’t totally fucking dying inside, he turns back to his computer and opens Tetris to start a game of it. Perhaps, fueled by his humiliation and fear, Saeyoung can beat his top score. He sits there shakily stacking blocks on blocks with the arrow keys on his ergonomic keyboard, waiting for Jumin to respond. And honestly, he knows Jumin well enough to know that this is a mind game the ravenette plays with people- simply waiting for a silence awkward enough that they’ll talk themselves into their own graves, talk themselves into corners that they can’t get out of- but he plays it regardless, because how can he resist? It’s in his programming to try to talk himself out of confrontation, and Jumin knows that. “I don’t really understand! I tell you and the others everything, y’know? Like how I write fanfiction about my LOLOL character, or about that one time V had to drive me to urgent care because I leaned too far back in my chair and fell out and hit my head-!”

Seemingly tired of his nonsensical efforts to defend aforementioned ‘defensive humor’, Jumin stops right behind the younger man and puts a firm hand on his bare shoulder. The feeling of the ravenette’s cool skin against his makes Saeyoung short circuit momentarily. Within the span of a few seconds, all the blocks in his Tetris game pile up, leaving him with a pathetic score of 1,236.

“Do you take me for a fool?”

“No, of course not, ” Saeyoung objects just a little too quickly, shrugs Jumin’s hand off of his shoulder, stands up, and turns around to face the older man. They’re just a little too close- so close that he can smell the remnants of wine, expensive cologne, and lavender shampoo- and surprisingly, Jumin doesn’t care to put a gap in between them. Instead, the ravenette stands there with a firm look and crossed arms. “I just don’t know what you’re getting at-!”

“Bullshit-” Jumin raises his voice.

“Jumin, you need to be quiet or Sae and Yoosung are gonna hear you- they’re both here!”

“My apologies for raising my voice when you have company, but you have to understand my frustrations… And you won’t admit it on your own, so I’ll help you out; you’re avoiding me.”

“I would never! How could I stand to avoid you? I wouldn’t be able to see my dearest Elly, after all!”

Saeyoung pauses, expecting Jumin to snap at him about calling his beloved cat Elly yet again.

Jumin does no such thing. 

So, Saeyoung quickly realizes that his go to defense mechanism isn’t working and dissolves into complete and utter panic. He’s shaking, struggling to talk, wringing his hands together, and worst of all, he can’t maintain eye contact. All he does is stare at the floor. 

“You’re worrying me,” Jumin finally says, a bit softer now.

“Ah, you really don’t need to do that,” Saeyoung manages to pull it together by dropping the shield of 707 momentarily. He wonders if he acts serious about this for a few moments, he can convince Jumin that he’s telling the truth. “I appreciate you coming here to check on me and everything, but I’m not avoiding you; I’ve just been busy with work and everything-”

“Busy with work? I guess that’s why you hosted a game night here with Yoosung and Saeran tonight… Or why you went drinking with Zen the other day, or met Jaehee for coffee a week or so ago. Are you under the impression that I don’t pay attention to your whereabouts?” Jumin looks away, his face ridden with an emotion Saeyoung can’t decipher. The red-head stares down at the ground and bites the inside of his cheek. “As a member of the RFA, your life is very important to me.”

“Well, you’re here, and I’m fine,” Seven sighs, shaky. All the possibilities start running through his head. Is Jumin mad at him? Or worse, has Jumin figured out his secret? Has it been obvious the whole time? “That’s what you came for, right?”

“You’re being defensive again- just trying to get me to stop so you don’t have to come to terms with the consequences of your own actions. I didn’t want to have to say this, but, while I understand that I’m not entitled to your time… The fact that you’ve been leaving right as I enter the chatroom and ignoring all of my calls and most of my texts has been eating at me over the past few weeks. Did I do something to upset you?”

“No, not at all! Really, I haven’t been avoiding you on purpose, Jumin, I’ve just been busy and it’s not like we talk much or hang out in the first place-”

“Well, maybe I want to, Saeyoung,” The words are rushed and have an edge to them, unlike anything the redhead has heard from the man before tonight. “There was this brief period of time where I thought we were getting along quite well; this span of a few months where we were talking so regularly that, when you dropped off the face of the planet the way you did, it stung. For the first few days, I almost thought our newfound bond was a figment of my imagination, but- ah, never mind… It doesn’t matter.”

Saeyoung blinks, golden eyes snapping up to meet the deep grey ones in front of him. Jumin’s cheeks are burning red enough that it makes Saeyoung think that his feelings might actually be reciprocated. 

“Wh… What? What are you trying to say, Jumin?”

“Maybe I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” Jumin reaches forward and gestures with his hand for Seven to hand him his glasses, so he does. The corporate heir takes them in his delicate hands and uses the soft purple handkerchief in his breast pocket to clean the lenses before handing them back. Fumbling with his hands, Seven barely manages to get the glasses back on his face. His vision is a lot better now. He isn’t sure when the last time he cleaned his glasses prior to that was. “...And maybe you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Well, what’s there to talk about?” Saeyoung raises an eyebrow, forces a smile, and defensively folds his arms. “Unless you really are here for my catbot idea, that is-”

“No,” Jumin pinches the bridge of his nose, gorgeous eyes fluttering shut for just a moment. “It’s more complicated than that. I’d rather not say. I just… This isn’t going anywhere, but are you alright? I suppose that’s all that matters to me right now. I’ve been worried sick about you for a week now.”

“I’m more than alright,” Seven says, and it’s a lie that comes easily, one that he’s told too many times. It’s easy to tell that Jumin doesn’t believe him, but he keeps going. “No need to worry about me!”

“If you say so… I’ll be headed home, then; I’d hate to leave Driver Kim waiting.”

“Okay,” Seven nods, debates on telling Jumin to text him when he’s back at his penthouse, then decides against it. He figures Jumin will notify him by logging back into the chatroom when he’s home, anyway. “See ya later!”

“Yes, indeed… Take care, Saeyoung.”

Jumin doesn’t say or do anything else, doesn’t even look at Saeyoung. Instead, he swiftly turns around and leaves, quiet footsteps echoing through the house. When the front door shuts and locks, instead of letting out a sigh of relief, tears well up in Saeyoung’s eyes.

“Damn… Why am I missing him so soon?”

For once, he’s not hurt by the fact that Yoosung and Saeran have once again left him alone to do their own thing and forgotten about him. Instead, it has him feeling grateful that he has a moment to himself to cry. He lets the tears pour down his cheeks as he double checks his security system to make sure that the cameras are still working and all the doors in the house are locked. 

Maybe he needs to rethink his strategy. Maybe, if he stops avoiding Jumin and pretends that everything is normal, things will be normal again. 

Yeah, that’ll work, he tells himself. 

Forcing a smile and drying the tears, Seven goes to his room and sits down on the edge.

‘Tomorrow will be better.’

~~~

Tomorrow- or, today now- is not, in fact, better. Saeyoung wasn’t able to sleep and is now sitting in the kitchen with a depressing breakfast of celery sticks and peanut butter. While he initially appreciated the deafening silence for the first couple hours after Yoosung snuck out the backdoor at 5AM, it’s gotten to a point where the intrusive thoughts are now too much. And yet, he can’t bring himself to make them stop. He just sits there with bags under his eyes, full of celery, peanut butter, coffee, and self-doubt- at least until the sound of Saeran’s soft footsteps snap him out of it.

“What…” Saeran trails off as he sits across from Seven at the table with a bowl of ice cream- one scoop of vanilla, one scoop of mint, one scoop of chocolate, and one scoop of salted caramel- only a fraction of the ungodly amount of ice cream they have in the freezer. It’s not the most nutritious breakfast, but the redhead doesn’t have the energy to say anything- mostly due to the fact that he was up all night stressing out about Jumin. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you’re eating real food, which you never do,” Saeran starts, pointing at Seven’s breakfast of champions; celery sticks and peanut butter, which he’s been sitting at the table eating on and off for the past three hours bemidst his quarter-life (?) crisis. “You didn’t sing in the shower this morning like usual and it definitely doesn’t help that you look like you slipped in shit and got ran over… Or something. You haven’t looked like this much of a wreck since I was in that mental hospital, man.”

“Listen, it’s not important, Saeran,” Seven sighs, finishes the last bit of celery stick, and closes the peanut butter container as he thinks back to the shower he took this morning- the first one in a few days. He scrubbed as hard as he could, but nothing could seem to make the feelings wash away like he hoped. “I’ve just been really busy.”

“Saeyoung,” The other man deadpans and blows the locks out of his face. They’re white at the ends, pink in the middle, and red at the roots. “You think I’m fuckin’ stupid or something?”

“I never said that! I just-”

“Dude. You’ve been a wreck for a week and you haven’t been working at all for days, so don’t try to bullshit me. I know how you operate.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say here.”

In an attempt to distract himself, Seven stands up to put the peanut butter back in the pantry. He fully intends on walking out of the kitchen so he can lock himself in his bedroom for the rest of the day, but before he can, Saeran speaks up again between bites of ice cream.

“What I want is for you to tell me what’s up.”

“I’ve… Caught feelings for someone,” Saeyoung worries his inner lip and takes a good, long look at his brother from where he’s standing in front of the fridge, his back leaned against the cold metal now. Considering what Saeran has already been through over the past- well, his entire life- Seven isn’t sure that venting to him is the best idea at first, but it’s such a trivial issue compared to everything else that they’ve been through that he doesn’t end up thinking better of it. After all, if he continues trying to dodge the subject, Saeran is bound to pester him until he fesses up. “And it’s been bothering me because I don’t know what to do.”

“Really? Just shove them deep down into the abyss and pretend they don’t exist like the rest of us.”

“Gee, thanks, I hadn’t thought of that,” Seven shakes his head and laughs, and Saeran laughs along with him for a moment. “No, but seriously, I already tried that and it didn’t work. Things have just gotten worse between us.”

“Never thought I’d see you in love. Are they an alien? Some kind of weirdo? A cat? Can I get a name?”

While the implication that Saeyoung is such a peculiar man that he’s incapable of having a romantic dynamic with a normal human is somewhat hurtful, he ignores it in favor of deciding whether or not he should give an honest answer, then comes to the conclusion that Saeran doesn’t care much about his love life past being concerned about him nor does Saeran benefit by telling anyone that would let the news get back to Jumin. 

“Uh… Jumin Han.”

“I didn’t realize it was April Fools,” The younger man deadpans. “Got a calendar on your phone I can look at?”

“It’s not a joke, Saeran- trust me, I wish it was, I really do, but it’s not.”

“Oh, wow… You’re really into Jumin like that?” Saeran pauses, raises an eyebrow, and finishes the rest of his ice cream. Awkward silence fills the room as Seven’s throat and chest tighten with anxiety. Admittedly, even he can admit that Jumin isn’t the most conventional choice, one that he will undoubtedly get shit for. The corporate heir is inconsiderate, unsympathetic, closed-minded, stiff, cold, and has both a questionable sense of humor and a tendency to throw copious amounts of money at all his problems. “I didn’t even know he was your type.”

“Shit, man,” Saeyoung rests his elbows on the kitchen counter, holds his head in his hands, and gives a sardonic smile. “Neither did I.”

“Good luck,” Saeran stands and takes his bowl to the sink to rinse it out, but he doesn’t wash it nor does he wash his spoon, simply leaving the dishes for Vanderwood to bitch about later. “But if I could give you some advice, why not just rip the bandaid off and tell him? Maybe he likes you back, and if he doesn’t, it’s better to get the rejection out of the way right now than to wait a few years and have it hurt more.”

“Honestly, I never plan on telling him, and I doubt he likes me back.”

“That discussion I overheard last night tells me otherwise. I didn’t know what the hell you two were going on about at first, but now that I have the context, I think I understand. You were just avoiding him because you like him.”

“You were eavesdropping on us!?”

“No, the two of you just talk really fuckin’ loud. Yoosung heard it, too, and he was just as confused as I was. I don’t know what you thought was going to happen with you having an intimate discussion in the middle of the living room that brazenly when my room is right at the beginning of the hallway, dumbass,” Saeran scolds him whilst also putting a reassuring, awkward hand on one of his shoulders. “You’re especially lucky that Vanderwood wasn’t here.”

“Oh,” Seven winches at that thought, aware that had Vanderwood been awake and present, he wouldn’t have hesitated to embarrass both him and Jumin by barging into the living room and  “Well, whatever it was you heard last night doesn’t make anything concrete. And even if he does have feelings for me, I’m not going to say anything.”

“Why not? It’s better than sitting around pining over the guy.”

“So what if he does want me back? Then what? A relationship between us wouldn’t work, just think about it. His father wouldn’t approve of it, which is a huge deal for him and his business, and I can’t be in the public I because of…” Saeyoung stops himself. The Prime Minister died months ago from a sudden heart attack, but he’s still hesitant to be seen in the public eye. Maybe his father is long gone, but there are other people after him who aren’t, and more importantly, Jumin’s career would be at stake. “It would be impossible for Jumin and I to function as a healthy couple without putting both myself and you in serious danger. Don’t you understand?”

“You’re Saeyoung Choi, 707, Defender Of Justice, aren’t you? You’d make it work if you really wanted it to,” Saeran shrugs, then turns away and begins to walk out of the kitchen, only to stop in the doorway and look back at him. “I think you’re just scared of opening up to someone and not being able to take it back if things don’t work.”

“Well, what if I say something and it doesn’t work out? What then?”

“If you go in with that mindset, then it’s not going to work out. Try to be positive about yourself for once. It’s better to get rejected and have some chance of moving on than to sit around and suffer, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think moving on is as easy as you think it is,” Saeyoung argues.

“What would you say if it were me instead of you?”

“Dammit, don’t put it like that!” He exclaims and crosses his arms over his chest, averting his brother’s prying gaze. He’s suddenly reminded of just last night when Jumin got past his walls in exactly the same way, and he wonders if he’s not good at hiding like he used to be- or, better yet, if he was never good at hiding at all. “That isn’t fair- it’s different for you.”

“How so? We look the same, we’re in similar positions, we have a lot of the same issues. How is it different?” Saeran zeroes in on him, and he can’t come up with a good response. “That’s what I thought. You don’t have anything to say because it’s not different, you’re just blowing it out of proportion because it’s you and you hate yourself, so you self-sabotage. If it were anyone else in your situation, you would tell them to make a move, but because it’s you, you don’t want to, right?”

“Okay, okay, I get it! Jeez, dude, when did you become such a therapist?”

“When did you become such an idiot?” Saeran counters with a roll of his mint-hued, contact-covered eyes.

“Look, it’s more complicated than you realize-”

“Ah, I’ve gotta go. Zen and Jaehee are here,” Saeran mutters as he pulls his phone out of his pocket and looks at the screen. Now that Saeyoung is paying attention, it’s obvious that Saeran is dressed up more than usual; a casual button-up, jeans, and sneakers. It’s quite a bit different than his typical househoes, sweats, and the sweater that hasn’t been washed in weeks. “See ya later.”

“Woah, wait, where are you going with Zen and Jaehee all of a sudden? Why didn’t you let me know earlier?”

“Uh, we’re just going to go pick Yoosung up and get breakfast with him since he has a couple finals to take later. I thought you knew…?”

“Why wasn’t I invited?” Saeyoung questions, feelings a bit hurt. 

“You were. It was brought up a few days ago in the messenger, but you weren’t online because you were busy avoiding Jumin, so you didn’t respond,” Saeran scratches the back of his neck, looks at the ground, then looks back up at Saeyoung. “You can still come if you want, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

“You didn’t mention Jumin. Why isn’t he going?”

“He had a meeting or something… You can still come if you want,” The younger man offers with a shrug, to which Saeyoung shakes his head and gives a dismissive wave of one of his hands.

“Y’know, I think I’m good! Have fun!”

“Then I’m headed out.”

“Be safe, I love you!”

“Yeah, you too,” Saeran heads out of the kitchen, only to pop his head back into the room to give Saeyoung a playful glare and a warning. “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

All Saeyoung can do is smile and call out as Saeran starts to leave; “No promises!”

~~~

Later that night, Saeyoung is glad that he did not make Saeran any promises before he left. 

He’s huddled up on the couch, wrapped in a plethora of fluffy blankets with his phone on the lowest possible brightness as he lurks in the chatroom. While not saying anything, he simply reads the interactions between Zen, Yoosung, Jaehee, and Jumin as they progress. The former three are telling the latter about their breakfast earlier that morning, while Saeran and Vanderwood are offline and in their rooms fast asleep.

Every time a message from Jumin pops up on the screen, Seven’s stomach twists in the best way possible. And, for the first time, he allows that feeling to possess him- smiles at it, even. His heart is beating hard and slow within the confines of his chest as a warm, fuzzy feeling takes over him. 

Jumin Han: It sounds like you all had fun. I’ll have to attend next time.

Yoosung★: You should come with us next time!

ZEN: No, he shouldn’t lol

Jumin Han: Why not?

ZEN: Jaehee shouldn’t have to see you more than she already does

Jaehee Kang: …I have no comment on the matter.

ZEN: Exactly!

ZEN: But I won’t say anymore, don’t wanna get Jaehee in trouble 

Jaehee Kang: I appreciate that ^^’

Jumin Han: Your opinions don’t affect Assistant Kang’s job performance, Zen.

ZEN: I can feel you being butthurt from here dude

Yoosung★: btb lplol is callonf!1!

Deciding to make his presence known, Seven starts to type.

707: Translation; brb lolol is calling!!!

Yoosung★ has left the chatroom.

Jumin Han: I’m not butthurt.

707: Well, Juju, since neither of us got to go today- we can always do our own thing together! (; Meow

Right below his first message, Seven sends one of the many cat photos he has in his gallery, knowing that it’s bound to make Jumin smile.

ZEN: What the hell dude!? You’ve been lurking for ten minutes and the first thing you do when you finally decide to talk is send a pic of some fur ball while flirting with the freaking trustfund kid?

707: It wasn’t flirting!

Jumin Han: Meow.

Jumin follows the message with a picture of Elizabeth 3rd, and then an outdated meme with a cat in it that he sends every once in a blue moon.

Jaehee: Pleases be careful, Zen has a very important performance tomorrow… T_T

ZEN: Yeah, I can already feel the congestion! You’re making my allergies act up ):< 

ZEN: You’ve been running rampant since Seven disappeared last week! 

Jumin Han: False.

Jaehee Kang: Excuse me.

Jaehee Kang has left the chatroom.

ZEN: Ugh, you two are so annoying sometimes! You better pray for my sinuses

ZEN has left the chatroom.

Jumin Han: …Ah. That was quick.

Jumin Han: And then there were two… Call me.

Jumin Han has left the chatroom. 

Saeyoung only sighs. Jumin didn’t even give him the chance to respond, so he figures he has no choice. 

707 has left the chatroom.

Gathering his courage, Seven calls Jumin for the first time in a week, and he isn’t surprised when he receives an immediate answer. 

“Yo, why’d you have me call you so suddenly?” He asks, fidgeting where he sits on his couch. Even with the static of the phone call filling one ear, the sound of rain falling outside yet again is audible. It’s the fourth heavy storm they’ve had in the past week; a telltale sign of spring transitioning into summer. “Everything good?”

“What, is it wrong for me to want to talk to you?” Jumin’s voice echoes on the other end, smooth and low and reeking of sleep.

“Not at all, it just caught me off guard after… Well, you know,” Albeit uncomfortably, he references the confrontation between the two of them from the night before. 

“Ah, yes… Well, that’s something we can sweep under the bridge, but that aside…” Jumin trails off. Nerves begin to bubble up in Saeyoung’s chest as he sits there in silence, waiting for Jumin to speak again. “You flirting with me. Quite a ridiculous concept from Zen, hm?”

Saeyoung’s heart drops in his chest. He didn’t think that Jumin would say anything about it, let alone so openly. The implication that it’s ‘ridiculous’ makes Seven frown at first, but then he forces a smile and tries his best to play it off. 

“Haha, yeah… Totally ridiculous!” Seven laughs along with Jumin, who is now chuckling. There’s an embarrassing sort of tension between them that he’s struggling to ease with no success. “He’s always had some weird ideas, though, don’t ‘cha think? Like those prophetic dreams of his!”

“Yes, of course…”

He expects Jumin to continue, but no such thing happens. It’s just eerily quiet. 

“Why is it so quiet all of a sudden?” He mumbles after a few moments too long. “I feel a bit awkward.”

“It’s just one of those nights, I suppose, but I don’t mind silence as long as it’s with you… I think we’ve always had that sort of comfortableness with each other, if you understand what I mean,” Seven’s jaw goes slack. He doesn’t even know how to respond. Is there a chance that Jumin likes him back? He considers it briefly before deciding that no, it’s too good to be true… They’re just really good friends, right? Because while Jumin is practically perfect in each and every way, Saeyoung considers himself the opposite. “...I’m sorry. Was that too direct?”

“N-No! I appreciate it, really, I just- what do you mean by that exactly?”

“What do you believe I meant?”

Saeyoung doesn’t answer- no, he can’t answer, fire roaring in his chest and in his throat as his heart beats a mile a minute. Once again, Jumin has backed him into a familiar corner that he has to talk himself out of. 

“...Never mind,” He clears his throat and wraps his blankets tighter around himself.  “How was your meeting this morning?”

“Just fine. I proposed that catbot idea of yours and got shot down by my father, but it was worth a try.”

“Heh, you really liked it that much?”

“I loved it.”

“Well, I’m flattered!”

“Are you going to bed soon?”

Seven’s eyebrows furrow at that. He wonders if Jumin is asking to gauge how much time they have left to talk or if Jumin is asking for some other reason he doesn’t know about yet. 

“Mm, probably not,” Seven yawns and rubs his eyes under his glasses, thinking about last night- thanks to that incident with Jumin, he didn’t get so much as a second of sleep. He’s tired now, so tired that he’s barely able to stay awake. “I haven’t been able to sleep that well lately.”

“Would you mind if I dropped by?”

“By my house? Again?” Saeyoung says without really thinking about it. “What for?”

“Just to see you. It seems as if neither of us are going to be asleep anytime soon anyways.”

“Okay, sure,” Saeyoung agrees even though he knows that, were Jumin to hang up and go to bed, he would do the same. He gets up with the blankets still wrapped over his shoulders to pace around the living room. “Why not? Come on over, Juju.”

He expects to get scolded for the nickname, but he doesn’t.

“I’ll see you soon, then.”

“See you soon!”

With that, Jumin hangs up on him, so he assumes the older man is on his way over. It’s a long, painful wait that makes him so nervous it has him shaking a bit. His heartbeat is in his throat now as he walks the living room and stares at the ground. His entire body is on fire, and his mind is going wild with the images plaguing it. It’s past midnight. What could Jumin possibly be coming over for so late at night? With Seven’s recent realizations regarding his and Jumin’s relationship, he can’t help but think that Jumin’s intentions are less than platonic. Then again, that sounds too good to be true…

So, when he hears Jumin’s familiar knock on the door and the sound of his security system going off, he tries to act as normal as possible as he walks to the door and opens it. Only, the second he sees the other man, who is looking immaculate as ever while standing there half past midnight with an umbrella held over him, he finds himself speechless. He wants to drag Jumin in, to put him in warm clothes, to feed him good food and fall into bed with him on this turbulent, stormy night. But he doesn’t. Instead, he stands there, sputtering and clinging to the door. These emotions that he’s so new to are rendering him completely and utterly helpless. On one hand, he can’t stand it, but on the other, the feeling of loving someone is intoxicating in the best way possible. Saeyoung thinks that, at this rate, he might drown in it.

After a humiliating amount of time standing there staring at each other, Jumin is the first to speak up.

���Am I allowed to come in, or…?” The older man trails off, clears his throat, and closes his umbrella.

“Oh, right! Sorry! Yeah, of course, here,” Snapped back to reality, Seven swings the door open so hard that it hits the wall next to it and makes a loud, horrible noise.

“Thank you,” Jumin says without so much as flinching as he steps into the living room. Seven shuts the door behind them and watches the corporate heir, who’s looking around and hanging his umbrella and suit jacket up on the coat rack in the entryway. “It’s dark…”

“Sorry, want me to turn the lights on?”

“No, that’s quite alright,” Jumin shakes his head and welcomes himself right in, walking ahead of Saeyoung and pacing around the living room before deciding to sit down right on the middle cushion of his couch. 

Seven just stands there, still in the entryway, bemused. Jumin is looking back at him from the couch, almost as if 

“Why are you here?”

“Why do you think I’m here?”

“Is your driver waiting outside?”

“No, I figured you’d drive me back if it were needed, so I told him to go home,” Jumin says nonchalantly. Normally, Seven would be a little taken aback by someone assuming he would be fine acting as a chauffeur, but he finds that since it’s Jumin, he doesn’t mind as much as he should. In fact, he finds it endearing. “I’ve heard that you’re an excellent driver. Then again, as I said, we’ll only have to put those skills to the test if they’re needed…”

“If they’re needed? Implying that you might stay over!?” Seven practically squawks.

His blanket falls off of his shoulders and onto the floor with a gentle plop. Meanwhile, Jumin is still sitting on the couch, now looking back at him with expectant obsidian eyes.

“Perhaps.”

“You know I don’t have a spare room for you, right? You would either be in my room or on the couch,” At that, Jumin doesn’t even blink, so Seven sits down next to him on the couch and continues. “Seems like you don’t care! Anyway, what do you wanna do? Watch a show? Play some games? Just lay around and talk? We could go eat or-”

“Is going driving on the table?”

“Driving?”

“In one of your cars. It seems like a perfect night for it,” Jumin shugs.

“What happened to not needing to put my skills to the test tonight?” Seven questions and stretches his arms upwards, cracking his back in the process. 

“I’m all for people being able to change their minds.”

“It’s pouring rain! You know I hate this weather,” Seven lets out a sigh of defeat and flexes his neck to crack it as well, followed by his knuckles. He leans a little too close and tosses an arm over Jumin’s shoulder to get closer to the man, who is impossibly warm. It takes everything in the hacker to keep talking rather than leaning into the heat. “But I guess I can’t blame you for wanting to see one of my babies in action. If you’re sure it’s a good idea, we can definitely go- I can even take you for food after!”

“I’d like that,” Jumin nods and stands up. Seven stands after him.  “Lead the way?”

Seven does as asked and, as quietly as he can, leads Jumin to his garage. It feels like they’re two teenagers sneaking around in the middle of the night instead of two grown men going for what teeters the line between a friendly outing and a date. When they enter the garage, safely escaping the potential wrath of Saeran or Vanderwood being woken up in the middle of the night, Jumin’s eyes scan over the array of sports cars.

“Which one do you like?”

Unsurprisingly, Jumin points to one of Saeyoung’s favorites, a brand new red convertible with tinted windows and a large sunroof. Saeyoung digs his massive keychain out of his pocket and uses the button to unlock the car before gesturing for Jumin to get in and going right after him. It’s just the two of them sitting in Saeyoung’s car, the redhead in the driver’s seat with the key in the ignition and Jumin in the passenger’s seat, looking more content than Saeyoung had ever seen him in his life. 

Neither of them have any idea where they’re going, and with that thought in mind, the hacker lets out a sigh of relief.

While Saeyoung would usually have the radio blasting obnoxiously loud music, he decides that it’s not needed. The noise is replaced by the sound of his heart beating in his head as he starts the car, opens the garage, and pulls out of it. When they get out onto the road, Saeyoung can’t help but notice just how quiet of a night it would be without the sounds created by the roaring thunderstorm- hell, not even Jumin is talking. The corporate heir has his arms crossed and resting on the power window, upper body slightly twisted so he can face the tinted glass to his right, which he looks out of with a dreamy gaze.

“You can roll the window down if you’d like,” Saeyoung offers with a chuckle and averts his gaze the second Jumin looks back at him. He’s glad that he’s the one driving; it gives him the perfect excuse to avoid eye contact. “You love this weather, don’t ‘cha? I can even open the sunroof.”

“Are you sure? I’d hate to ruin your interior with all this rain falling.”

“It’s waterproof, I’ll wipe it down when we get back.”

“If you say so.”

Saeyoung takes that as permission and reaches over to roll all the windows in the car down and open the sunroof. The rain that pours down on them is surprisingly warm as it soaks through their clothes and splotches the front of Saeyoung’s glasses.

When they come onto an empty, rural road, Seven stops to look at the man next to him.

With his head out the window, rain pouring onto him, Jumin Han looks like a mix between a dream and a movie scene. His charcoal locks are drenched and laying flat against pale skin, that of which glows with the shine of the moonlight beaming down on them as they drive with Saeyoung going much faster than he should. For once, Jumin doesn’t seem to care- instead, he lets go, lets his eyes fall shut, and smiles. The tips of his ears, visibly seen through his soaked hair, are bright red, as are his cheeks and the end of his button nose. His lashes flutter with the wind and the raindrops that lace the curled tips, and suddenly, Saeyoung realizes he should be paying more attention to the road, so he does. He breaks his gaze away and stares at the seemingly endless path of tar-hued, slick roads and blackened sky through his windshield. 

“Jesus Christ,” He whispers to himself and does the sign of the cross over the chest.

“Is something wrong?” Jumin murmurs.

“No, not at all! Sorry, I was just… Um, thinking-” 

Thinking about how goddamn beautiful you are.

“Thinking?” Jumin inquires and pulls away from the window, now leaning back against the wet seat. “What’s on your mind?”

“I was just… Thinking about how hungry I am!”

“Oh, yes, you did mention potentially stopping for food, but…” Jumin, who had closed his eyes a few moments before, lazily opens one of them and gazes upon the redhead. “What kind of restaurants are going to be open at this time?”

“You’ve never been to a diner, have you?” Seven barks, to which Jumin blushes and runs a single hand through his damp hair. 

“I… Don’t believe I have.”

“Then I guess that’s where we’re going if you’re down. There’s a place not too far from here that has awesome pancakes!”

“I’m not opposed.”

With that, Saeyoung dares to drive a little faster and makes his way to the diner. Both of them are absolutely drenched in rain, and he can hardly see through the droplets on his glasses’ lenses, but he’s having the time of his life as thunder roars and lightning tears through the muggy sky. The rain gets heavier, heavier, and heavier, finally settling when they reach the diner that he had in mind. They pull in right in front of the little place, which is practically desolate, with an empty lot and flickering pink and blue lights. Through the windows, you can see the lone cashier and the lone waitress standing at the register, chatting away. 

After putting the windows and the sunroof back up, Seven parks and looks over at Jumin with a breathless chuckle before slapping his knee at the sight of the older man, who currently looks like a drowned cat.

“Jeez, Jumin, you’re soaked!”

“Ah, yes… I could’ve foreseen this,” Jumin mutters and loosens his tie before removing it completely and shrugging off his white button-up. Underneath is a plain white tank-top, something that Saeyoung never thought he’d see on Jumin’s body. Once again, he can’t help but think about just how perfect the corporate heir looks like this, cotton shirt clinging to his chest and back, arms and upper chest a wide expanse of toned muscles shifting under porcelain skin, collarbones light and delicate as they rise and fall with each and every steady  breath Jumin takes. The ravenette takes the seam of his tank top between two fingers, pulls at it, and lets go. The sopping wet material falls back against his skin with a plop sound that makes Seven laugh once more. “I should’ve brought a change of clothes.”

“I probably have some in the back for both of us, conveniently enough! I packed a few outfits for my last mission that I took this car for, though they aren’t fancy like you’re used to.”

“As long as they’re somewhat presentable, they’ll suffice.”

Taking that as acceptance of his offer, Seven parks the car and opens the trunk. They unbuckle and get out of the vehicle with the hacker grabbing a change of clothes for each of them, both outfits in a plastic grocery bag. He shuts the trunk and puts his keys in his pocket. 

As the two men stand there in the rain, Jumin gives him a baffled look, but he doesn’t say anything, so Seven grabs the other man by the hand and drags him inside to the diner. It’s past one in the morning when they slip into the diner and past the distracted waitress and cashier to go change in the men’s bathroom, which Jumin inevitably complains about the size and smell of the entire time. 

When they get out and slip back into the dining area with their wet clothing bags in hand, Saeyoung approaches the counter with Jumin in tow, awkwardly standing behind him.

“Table for two, please!”

The waitress quickly greets them and leads them to a corner booth by the windows. Oldies music plays through the static speakers as they sit down, Jumin choosing the spot that faces the door and Seven settling down next to him rather than across from him, wanting that closeness; that warmth he craves so desperately. Two menus are placed in front of them. When the waitress leaves them to their own devices to go talk to the cashier again, Jumin speaks.

“...These are different from what I’m used to,” Jumin pulls at the hoodie of Seven’s he’s wearing and looks down at the sweats that barely cling to his narrow hips. They certainly don’t match the long black socks and formal dress shoes that adorn the corporate heir’s feet, a fact that Seven can’t help but laugh at- at least until Jumin pulls the collar of the hoodie up to his nose. “They smell like you.”

“Huh,” Seven responds, unsure if Jumin’s comment is a good thing or a bad thing. 

On one hand, the corporate heir had smiled with this terribly sweet flush on his cheeks when he said it, but on the other hand, Zen also once told Seven that he smells like chips and two-day-old sweat, and V has subtly tried to hand him deodorant and cologne a handful of times throughout the years. Admittedly, from lack of knowledge and lack of time, even Seven himself can admit that his hygiene isn’t the best, and he suddenly finds himself self conscious of the fact as he sits there next to Jumin. He’s glad that, for once, he showered earlier that day to get his mind off of things.

“Could you help me navigate this menu?” Jumin requests. 

“Get the blackberry pancakes, you’ll like them… And when you get asked what you want to drink, don’t ask for wine or sparkling water, they won’t have either.”

“Then what do you suggest I ask for instead?”

“Water, chocolate milk, orange or apple juice, soda… Any of those are fine.”

Internally, Seven just prays that Jumin doesn’t try to order something terribly fancy or complicated. 

“Okay.”

“And the pancake plates come with two sides, eggs and either sausage or bacon. You have to tell them how you want your eggs cooked and whether you want sausage or bacon.”

“Sounds… Easy enough.”

Before anything else can be said, the waitress approaches them again with a smile on her face and a notepad and pen in hand. 

“Hello! How are you tonight?”

“Never been better, how about you?” Seven responds as smoothly as possible despite his anxiety suddenly spiking.

Are they on a date? This feels like a date. Why is Jumin so suddenly resting his head on Seven’s shoulder? The feeling of charcoal locks tickling his shoulder and the side of his neck makes goosebumps raise on his skin at the same time that all his body hair stands up. 

“I’m great! Can I get you two started with some drinks?” The waitress asks.

“A PHD Pepper for him and an orange juice for me, please,” Jumin orders drinks for both of them without missing a beat, which has Seven in shock. He honestly didn’t expect Jumin to pay enough attention to know what drink he orders from places like this. 

“Okay! Are you ready to order your food, or should I give you a few minutes to look at our menu?”

“I think we’re ready to order!” Seven answers, and as always when he goes to any food establishment, he feels his anxiety bubbling up in his chest when he has to order. Regardless, he forces himself to do it, staring down at the table the whole time and gripping the cloth of his pants a little too hard. “Can I get the strawberry crepes, just the crepes? I don’t want the sides.”

“Gotcha!” She nods, writes Saeyoung’s order, and then turns to Jumin. “And for you?”

“Blackberry pancakes with sausage rather than bacon, and I prefer my eggs poached… And could I get an additional side of hashbrowns?” Jumin orders without so much as pausing or stuttering, then grabs both of their menus to hand them to the waitress with a smile and a nod.

“Awesome, thanks guys! I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

When they get their drinks and their drinks and their food, it’s relatively quiet minus the background noise; the sounds from the kitchen crew’s utensils and pans clinking against surfaces as they work and wash dishes, the absentminded chatter of the waitress and the cashier, the retro music from when their parents were kids playing from the half-broken speakers, the occasional squeak of a rain-covered shoe sole on the checkered white and black tile floors, one of the staff members cleaning the red leather booths and light grey tables. 

Jumin cuts his pancakes into methodical, perfectly even sixteenths, cuts his sausage links into fourths, puts his poached eggs on top of his hashbrowns, and cuts open the whites so the runny yolks run over the pan-fried potato strips. He doesn’t eat the pancakes with syrup, just eats them as they are, and he eats each item one at a time; pancakes, sausage, poached egg whites, then the yolk-covered hashbrowns. Meanwhile, Seven scarfs down his crepes without using the knife to cut them, simply picking them up with his fork and taking bites out of them the best he can.

Compared to how neatly Jumin is eating, Saeyoung looks like an absolute mess, but the older man doesn’t seem to care. 

Occasionally, Saeyoung will stare at Jumin until the corporate heir stares back, which is when he gets embarrassed and stares down at his plate or gulps down drinks of his soda. They both finish their food decently fast, and when they put down their silverware, the waitress comes by with the check.

“I’ll pay,” Jumin says before Seven can so much as grab the book, but the redhead quickly objects.

“What? No! I’m the one who invited you- I should pay!” The redhead argues and reaches across the table for the book, only for Jumin to move the hand holding it so fast that he fails to grab it. 

“I’m the one who wanted to go out, and my food was more expensive than yours. This isn’t up for debate.”

Without another word, Jumin grabs his card from his wallet, takes the book to the front to pay, and comes back. Saeyoung is terribly uncomfortable with and unused to the idea of someone else paying his way, but it’s flattering and generous enough that he can’t help the ghost of a smile that takes over his lips. 

Jumin stands in front of where Seven is sat and offers the redhead a hand, so he takes it and stands, but doesn’t let go afterwards. He almost expects Jumin to let go of his hand as they walk out of the restaurant, so when that doesn’t happen, Seven interlaces their fingers and holds onto the other man’s hand even tighter.

When they get outside, the music from the speakers is still very much audible. Still, it surprises him when Jumin’s other hand is drifting to his waist and they’re suddenly swaying to the music together- almost like a couple. Saeyoung blushes and stares down at the ground.

“So, where to now? I can drop you back off at yours.”

“...I do miss Elizabeth 3rd,” Jumin starts. “But will you stay with me?”

“H-Huh?” Seven’s golden eyes snap up to meet Jumin’s charcoal ones, just to make sure he heard that right.

Did Jumin seriously just ask him to stay at his house?

“What? You had no issue with the concept of me staying at yours,” Jumin says nonchalantly, as if it doesn’t matter. 

“That- That was different!” Saeyoung exclaims, his entire body on fire.

“How so?”

“Well… Well, it was because it would be convenient since you were going to be over at my house! But me staying the night-”

“Well, we’ll both be at my penthouse, won’t we?” Jumin questions and uses the hand holding Saeyoung’s to twirl him where they stand on the rain-darkened concrete. The parking lot is empty, and the music is booming in his ears, though it’s not nearly as loud as his heartbeat. He debates on whether he should say no or not, because logically, they aren’t even dating or anything so why would he stay over there, but at the same time… The look on Jumin’s face as he pulls Saeyoung back into his chest is awfully convincing.

“I guess so? You absolutely baffle me sometimes…” Seven trails off. “Am I staying in the guest room?”

“Do you want to?” Jumin tilts his head.

“Is that an offer, or is it an attempt to interrogate me?”

“Maybe it’s both.”

The ravenette is leaning in a little too close, and his eyes peer into Saeyoung’s, almost as if he’s peering into the hacker’s soul. Saeyoung debates on how to respond as the thought of sleeping with Jumin crosses his mind. He imagines it, them cuddling together in the older man’s huge, fancy bed, Elizabeth 3rd laying between their feet, their skin pressed flush together, limbs intertwined, bodies covered in plush blankets. It nearly makes him shudder, but he stops himself.

“Then I’ll play along,” Seven breathes out. The feeling of Jumin being so close to him, wanting him… It’s absolutely dizzying, and he can’t help but want more of it. “I want to stay with you- not in your fancy guest room. How about it?”

“Heh, I’m not opposed to it,” Jumin chuckles, light and airy. “It’s nice to hear you being direct with what you want from me for once.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve already embarrassed me enough this week! No need to make it worse, man!” Seven playfully pushes his hands against Jumin’s chest, only for the ravenette to grab them and pull him back in.

“Oh, but it’s so much fun to tease you.”

A deafening silence falls that makes Saeyoung feel like he’s suffocating. The early morning drizzle falls upon them just right as they suddenly stop dancing, the music from the diner distant to their ears now. Jumin’s dark eyes are practically sparkling, and fuck, if he isn’t ethereal under the pale moonlight and soft-colored lights from the diner. His pale skin is beautifully highlighted by the pink and blue that beam down on him, and the shine of his hair reflects just right with every moonbeam that’s coming their way. Better yet, he’s staring at Saeyoung with that face, that gorgeous face that kills him every time; that intent, loving stare he just can’t break.

And Saeyoung knows that he’s not any different.

He isn’t sure who makes the first move, but despite them having started out at a reasonable distance from each other, they end up standing there with their clothed chests against one another, their shoulders bumping, and their noses brushing. 

Neither of them can so much as blink now, let alone swallow the tension that’s in the air, and suddenly, their lips are touching, too. It’s not a sensation akin to electricity like it’s described in all of the romance novels. Instead, it feels like relief. Right then and there, Saeyoung feels more grounded than he’s ever felt in his life. His body is going slack, he’s melting into it, into Jumin’s touch, and practically falls forwards when those long arms are wrapped around his waist. It’s almost as if the kiss lasts forever with Jumin’s lips tentatively moving over his and Jumin’s tongue skillfully raking over every inch of his mouth.

When they finally separate so Saeyoung can breathe, Jumin gives him a cocky smirk that’s all too familiar now. 

“...Let’s get back to your penthouse before you make me die of embarrassment.”

~~~

When they get back to Jumin’s penthouse, the kissing doesn’t stop. They speed walk from Saeyoung’s car to the penthouse, bodies and clothing damp from the light mist that the rain has died down to. They’re intertwined with each other when they reach the door with Jumin’s arms around Saeyoung and Saeyoung’s back against the door, both of them giggling like teenagers between kisses as Jumin unlocks the door to let them in.

Then, they tumble into the penthouse with Jumin shutting and locking the door behind them. Saeyoung is still giggly, but he manages to follow when he’s grabbed by the hand and led to Jumin’s bedroom, even if his footsteps are a little stumbly. He takes his shirt off before falling into the bed with Jumin crawling onto the mattress right next to him and taking the hacker back into his arms. 

They’re facing each other on the bed, lips locking with lips, hands roaming bodies, legs tangled up and arms around bodies like they never want to let go.

“Saeyoung,” Jumin starts between kisses, clearly out of breath.

“Yeah, Juju?”

“What are we?”

“Are we really gonna have this talk at three in the morning?” Seven laughs and breaks away from Jumin’s touch so he can turn over and face the wall, only for Jumin to turn over as well and wrap his arms around Seven’s waist from behind. The redhead sighs in relief at the warmth it gives him, then smiles when he feels Jumin’s face being buried in his bare back.

“I heard once that having serious conversations late at night is better because the other party is more likely to be honest.”

“Do you know why that is?” Seven asks and takes his glasses off to set them on the nightstand.

“Because exhaustion leads to lack of inhibition which makes it harder to contain private information?”

“Bingo!”

“It’s not like either of us have anything to contain from each other… You’re as aware of our situation as I am. You’re just skirting around it.”

“So what if I am?”

“Well, I’d rather you not be, but if you have to, I can respect that… So long as you explain why.”

“I guess we’re being bare bones here,” Again, Saeyoung breaks away from Jumin, this time by wriggling out of his arms and sitting up on the bed with his knees pulled to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. Briefly, Elizabeth 3rd hops on the bed and rubs herself up against his side before trotting off to go lay on Jumin’s pillow. Meanwhile, Jumin sits up along with Saeyoung and puts a strong, grounding hand on his shoulder. “I’m scared of what happens when I get too attached for my own good and you end up leaving.”

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you.”

“I’m scared of what happens when I get too attached for my own good and you end up getting hurt because of me.”

“Aren’t you already too attached for your own good?” Jumin says with a hint of a smile and moves a few stray locks of auburn hair out of Seven’s face. At that moment, Seven looks over at the man and forces himself to smile back despite the serious nature of their current conversation.

“Maybe I am, but if we cross this line, it’ll get much worse, and you… Maybe you’re older than me, and maybe you do understand how cutthroat life can be when it comes to business, but compared to me? You’re so good, so innocent, so kind, and the lifestyle I’ve led in the past will ruin you if it catches up to me.”

“Then leave it behind,” Jumin says it like it’s obvious, wraps his arms around Saeyoung the best he can, and rests his head in the crook between Saeyoung’s neck and shoulder. “Run away from it. It’s in the past now, it can’t hurt you anymore, and it most certainly can’t hurt me. I won’t let it.”

“Leave it all behind, huh? Like everything I’ve done won’t follow me for the rest of my life? Like it’s that easy?”

“It should be if you love me like you seem to. At least try for me.”

“I… I do,” Seven gulps, and suddenly, it feels like he’s swallowing sand as he sits there in Jumin’s room, half-asleep and warm and full of food with Jumin’s body so close to his. “I do love you.”

“And I you,” Jumin says it back without hesitating, lifts his head from Saeyoung, and kisses the hacker’s forehead ever so gently. “So much. I have for a long time. Be with me, or at least try to, no matter what gets in the way.”

Saeyoung can’t help but smile. Though Saeyoung hesitates, he eventually ends up replying.

“Alright.”

“Let’s go to sleep,” Jumin whispers, to which Saeyoung nods. They’re sitting there together under the ambient glow of Jumin’s nightstand, and for once, everything feels okay- no matter how scared he is, Jumin is there to guide him through it, and for the first time in over a week, Saeyoung knows he’s going to sleep well. “We can talk about this some more in the morning. All you need to know right now is that I love you.”

“Heh,” Saeyoung laughs as they crawl underneath the covers together. “I love you, too.”

#jumin han #mysme seven #luciel choi #saeyoung choi #saeran choi #mysme ray #mysme vanderwood #yoosung kim #mystic messenger #mystic messenger fanfiction #jumin7 #oneshot #oneshots #drabble #drabbles

[doridoripawaa]

"Gonna be suuuuper late tonight lolol take care of dinner without me!! >.o ~ ☆"

Saeran scowled as soon as he read the text message that had flickered across his phone screen. "Not that you ever help with dinner, anyway," he grumbled. Actually, he put a significant amount of effort into keeping his older brother out of the kitchen entirely. Nothing positive ever came out of Saeyoung's ventures into the kitchen, with the end result varying from broken plates to roaring flames to ramen smoothie.

Saeran preferred not to think about that last one.

At least this meant he would have a peaceful meal without his brother trying (and failing) to be his sous chef. With a sigh, the redhead began to tuck his phone into his pocket, until another quick beep caught his attention. Muttering some choice words under his breath, Saeran unlocked his phone screen again to check his messages.

"Pls feed Ariella too! We r out of bagels so she would be in trouble lol oop"

Oh. Shit. Her.

So much for a peaceful evening.

"👍"

Enough of a reply for Saeyoung to know he was alive and had received his texts. Saeran put his phone on the kitchen counter, not wanting to be bothered for a while if he had a say in the matter. As soon as he called his brother's dearest Ariella over to eat, he had no doubt she'd try to drag him into some sort of board game or arts & crafts, or she'd chuck 7 anime titles that somehow all had something to do with singing lesbians at him and ask him to pick one.

Come to think of it, though, he hadn't seen his sister-in-law in several hours. Had she gone out? No, she tended to stay home when Saeyoung was gone for long days like this. Much to Saeran's chagrin, neither of them liked to leave him alone in the bunker for too long. (A wise decision, but an irritating one nonetheless.)

That meant she had to be in one of the rooms. Saeran knew the brunette had a tendency to lose track of time when she was really engaged in something, so that would explain her silence. He'd caught her lying on the living room floor for two hours reading, lounging in Saeyoung's "office" chair at 3 AM playing games on her phone, studying Korean in the bathtub because she liked that it the room was secluded and didn't want anyone to make fun of her pronunciation, and at one point he'd caught her deep into researching tiny carnivores that were endangered. (Everything he had learned about the pygmy raccoon of Cozumel Island had been against his will.)

He couldn't even begin to guess where she was camped out right now.

But as Saeran looked at the clock and realized how late into the evening it was, he knew he would need to find her sooner rather than later to get her input on what to make for dinner. Much like his brother, Ariella was someone who should not be allowed in the kitchen unsupervised. If he didn't make her something, she'd try herself... and Saeran had no desire to clean up after her tonight.

"Ariella?" Saeran called out tentatively. His summons was met with silence. Barely stifling a resigned sigh, he tried again. "Ariella? What do you want for dinner?" Again, nothing.

Annoyed, he ran his hands through his crimson locks, knowing that he was about to begin a scavenger hunt for his ditzy sister-in-law. "Sometimes I think the cult was easier than this," he hissed as he headed over to the laundry room, beginning his search.

But she wasn't in the laundry room nor the living room, and she wasn't in Saeyoung's office or in the guest room they'd set aside for Vanderwood. She wasn't in the home library, and she hadn't found her way to the kitchen while Saeran was checking the other rooms.

Saeran narrowed his minty eyes and finally let out a sigh of defeat. "I hate going in here," he mumbled as he walked up to Saeyoung's bedroom door. But what choice did he have? It would explain her lack of response; Saeyoung's room was practically soundproof, and he'd designed it that way. Crossing that barrier into his brother's quarters was... unsettling for Saeran, though. Saeyoung certainly had no problem barging in on him, but Saeran found himself disconcerted in his brother's room. He saw a lot of the brother he knew, but also a lot about the brother he didn't know.

Reconciling his past and his present when it came to Saeyoung was always a messy ordeal, and Saeran preferred not to confront it unless he absolutely needed to do so.

His hand was shaking as he opened the door.

"Ariella?" Saeran called out her name as soon as he cracked the door open, wanting to get out of this space as soon as possible. He smacked his still quivering hand before stepping in further. "How about sweet potato noodles tonight?" If he could just pry an answer out of her regarding dinner, he could head out and feel satisfied that he'd carried out his obligations to Saeyoung.

But he didn't hear so much as a simple "yes" or "no."

Every step he went deeper inside made him more uncomfortable, but he had to check all corners before he gave up. She wasn't in the bedroom, and she wasn't in either her closet or Saeyoung's.

"Where the hell...?" The younger twin was on the verge of letting out a cry of frustration, as his efforts began to feel more and more like a wild goose chase. As he put his hand on the bathroom door handle, he felt his irritation simmering and threatening to boil over. "Ari--"

All of that energy transformed from annoyance to horror as he saw his sister-in-law curled up on a rug on the bathroom floor.

"Ariella?!" Hastily he scrambled over, dropping to his knees beside her. "Ariella?" He could see the slow rise and fall of her abdomen, so she was breathing, but why was she curled up in fetal position? "Hey, what happened? Did someone break in? Was it..." Looking around the room, he didn't see any signs of damage that suggested someone had broken their way in. Plus, he had been here all day, so if someone had come in by force, wouldn't he have heard them? What was wrong, then? He tried to see if he could find any clues, but the bathroom was practically spotless, with the exception of some water droplets in the sink and a few items in the trashcan. Just a couple of bandage wrappers, as far as he could--

The panicked heat in his body melted away as soon as he saw the cold glint of steel that twinkled at him mockingly.

"Elle..." His voice suddenly grew eerily calm. "Elle," he repeated, using the nickname once again. A name that only he ever used for her-- she'd forced him to watch Legally Blonde, but afterwards he'd found himself calling her this name from time to time. A name that he had chosen, not one borrowed from Saeyoung. A small flame of friendship, from the one person who tried to spend time with him for no other reason than out of the kindness of her heart.

Pink. Peppy. Positive.

Why was his Elle in so much pain right now?

His thoughts snapped back to the present as he heard a soft sniffling from below. Quickly Saeran turned his attention back to Ariella, who had tilted her head back so she could look at him.

He didn't get a chance to ask any questions before she whimpered and lowered her head again. Upon closer inspection, he saw that she was cradling her wrist, too, and holding that against her chest.

"Hey, Elle. We can't make it better if you don't tell me what happened."

"I... my... sorry...."

"Louder."

"Broke... sorry... fault...."

"Lift your head."

He probably sounded cold, with how tersely he was speaking to her right now. But he didn't care if she thought he was rude, or cruel, or just a complete jerk. His priority was helping her.

"I broke... promise... I'm..."

"What promise? Come on, Ariella."

"I promised him... Never again...."

Again?

So this wasn't the first time.

A heavy silence hung in the air for a moment. It was dense and sticky, and if he didn't know any better, he'd say it reeked of blood.

He smelled blood all the time, and he was used to seeing it on his hands, but he never thought he'd see them splatter fingers as soft and smart and sweet as hers.

Saeran knew Ariella was the type who didn't actively go out trying to hurt others. He could tell from the way she quarreled with Saeyoung about his not-so-legal activities that she was someone who tried to live a just, honest life. She deserved better than to get caught up with people like them, but that was Saeran's fault, wasn't it?

Did he have Ariella's fresh blood on his hands, too?

"Listen." He leaned over until his forehead was almost touching hers. "I don't know what promise you made or why you broke it. But I know you're someone who tries to be true to her word, so you must have had a reason." He wasn't good at comfort. He wasn't sure if what he was saying would make things better or worse for her. "You have to fail sometimes. That's how you get better." He leaned back and began to rise to his feet. "And I know you're a perfectionist, so I know you're gonna take this loss and use it to get better. Because you're strong like that, Elle."

He didn't wait to see if she was getting up before he turned towards the bathroom door. "I'm going to the kitchen. If you can meet me there in 10 minutes, you can decide what we eat. Saeyoung is going to be late tonight, after all. So...

"Wash up really well. I'll see you in a few."

She never did tell him why or how he'd found her like that. She didn't tell him how long she'd been lying there before he found her, either.

But she did tell him to use extra orange zest and to cut back on the garlic, and he knew she didn't like her dinners to be super sweet.

Saeran, however, loved orange zest and wasn't a fan of garlic, and so he accepted her gratitude in the form of a steaming bowl of japchae.

#dl #tw self harm

[marshmallowprotection]

Hey I’m really sorry to tell you this but… you left your pocket sized Saeran Choi unsupervised out on the table and well…. I stole him. Yea sordy. He’s outside rn frolicking in the grass with a strawberry in hand.

You stole my Pocket Saeran? Blasphemy! Everyone knows my dear Pocket-Sized Saeran gets sweets and kisses whenever he wants! He is cozy as can be! I wish I could be mad but I'm not. You took him on a little trip outside and gave him strawberries. Literally, he's having the best day of his life. Make sure to ask him if he wants his strawberry in smaller bite-sized pieces so he doesn't hurt his jaw!

[And then go read my one-shot about Borrower Ray.]

#my art #mod kait #ask #mystic messenger #mysme #saeran choi #mysticmessenger #choi saeran #anon #borrower saeran #pocket saeran #ge saeran #saeray #saeran #stole my pocket sized little man... #i love little borrower saeran he's so precious i wish there was more fanart of that because he's so ITTY BITTY GIVE HIM STRAWBERRIES

[natasha-in-space]

Natasha nudged Saeran with her index finger. He made no point in responding to her attempt to grab his attention. As insecure as he was about his power and strength, being reduced to the meager height... of a mere 2 apples tall shredded whatever image he cultivated for himself. He felt vulnerable and weak! It didn't matter how much he tried to hide that, she could see it.

She could see how frustrated and afraid he was. That... was the last thing he wanted her to say, though.

"Saeran," she whispered.

"No," he hissed. The sound was hardly something that could be threatening in the way he intended it to be. He still wasn't ready to talk about it. But, the fact was that the Savior was going to come looking for him sooner or later and she didn't know what to say.

"I need to hide you, at least," Natasha said. It was the best she could do. They were out in the open. There was a chance some of the believers could catch the two of them, and she wasn't supposed to be out here in the first place. He revoked her access a long time ago to travel and the only reason why she made it this far was because he wanted her to be there.

"..."

He didn't make a point of saying anything in pure confirmation but he didn't argue with that, either. At the very least, he understood the position they were in. It wasn't exactly the best situation in the world but they had to do something to make sure that he didn't get hurt.

"I'll be gentle. I promise, Saeran. I just couldn't hurt someone as strong as you even if I wanted to," she supplied. It was the best she had. She quietly lifted him from the floor and slid him into the pocket of her skirt where her phone sat. "I don't think I could get close to your room. So, I'm going to sneak back into mine for the time being."

While it might have been the perfect opportunity to get out of Magenta, she knew that she wouldn't be able to do that by herself. There was no way she could figure out the best way to maneuver away from the mountains and back to civilization.

She just had to ride this out and make sure that he was taken care of.

"I promise it'll be quick."

She was trying to put on a brave face for both of their sakes. The last thing Saeran needed at this moment was even more things for him to worry about. He barely said a word to her today, and it broke her heart to see him this resigned and quiet. Natasha knew her reassurance didn't mean much when they both knew she couldn't hide him forever, but she still tried her very best to lighten his load in every way she could.

"I'll figure this out. I promise." She whispered to him, being careful to not hurt his tiny ears with her voice. He didn't respond and he didn't even look up at her. But, she knew he heard her, and that's all that mattered.

How in the world is she going to figure this out...?

#THE WAY THAT I SCREECHED WHEN I SAW THIS JFTJFTHT #i wish i could do more but a fully fleshed out artwork takes me a week to complete :( #mystic messenger #mysmes #mysme #mm #saeran choi #suit saeran #pocket suit saeran #saeran x cmc #suit saeran x cmc #oc natasha stakh

[little-butterfly-writes]

If you're still taking the fanfic writer asks, i'd like to ask 2 and 29!

Of course! Thanks for asking!

2. For MLQC, IT'S Kiro, Helios, Shaw, and sometimes Gavin. For Mystic Messenger, I find it hard to write for Saeyoung, Saeran, and sometimes Yoosung. Not sure why, they're just rough on me.

29. Brainstorming for sure. I get so many creative ideas and thoughts, it's amazing to just let go. And if I don't use some of those ideas, I keep them in my back pocket

Send an ask!

[bluejay-writes]

A sort of Fairy Tail - Chapter 2

Rating: T / PG-13, SFW. Fandom: Mystic Messenger Relationships: 707/MC (Jaena)/Saeran Chapter 2 Wordcount: 3096 Summary:

Freelance Hacker by day, cosplayer by weekend, Jaena Grey was living her best life. One fateful convention, she meets a scarily talented fellow costumer and his friend Zen.

When Jaena finds herself embroiled in the usual Mint Eye apartment plot, Seven panics to see someone he knows. Hijinks ensue, including Jaena spending the majority of her time cosplaying as 707 in his own bunker to hide herself from Vanderwood - for better or worse.

You can also read this on AO3! <- Also a good place to check tags.

Chapter 2: Lost Phone

The sun was shining, the sky was bright, and Jaena had absolutely nothing to do for the next two weeks in a country where she knew absolutely no one. It was the perfect time to do a ton of sightseeing, take some gorgeous pictures and eat way too much street food.

That in mind, she was walking in the general direction of a goldfish-shaped bread vendor scrolling idly through her social media when she ran into someone.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” She said, stopping to help steady the man she’d run into. He was about her height, with pale skin, bleached hair, and way too much eyeliner. Oh, he’s cute. she thought idly, as he brushed off her apology and told her to have a good day before continuing on his way. 

Shaking her head, Jaena tucked her phone into her pocket, determined to look at where she was going better from here out.  Other people might not be so willing to shrug off a collision on the street, after all, and she is a foreigner.  It was then, of course, that she noticed the phone laying on the ground at her feet. Was it that guy’s? Had he dropped it when she ran into him, and not noticed?

Oh no, I can’t not get this back to him. Jaena thought, grabbing the phone and spinning around to look for that distinctive mop of bleached hair, but he was nowhere in sight.  She bit her lip. He couldn’t be far, could he?  The phone was the newest Android model, and she winced. Yeah. He’d definitely miss this. On instinct, she double-tapped the phone screen, finding it unlocked. That lack of personal security seemed fake, but before she could think too hard about it, it rang in her hand. Wincing at the loud jaunty tune that played, she accepted the call.

“Hello! This is not my phone!”

“Yes, obviously. It’s mine.” The low smooth tone rang through the speaker. “I dropped it, likely when I ran into you.”

“Oh! Yes!” She said, nodding even though he couldn’t see her. “I tried to catch you, but you were already gone. Where can I find you?”

“I’m on my way to work, but you can take it to the apartment.”

“Are you sure you don’t need it sooner?”

“It’s just for work, I can get it later.”

“Okay, is your apartment close, or…?”

“I’ll send you the address.”

Jaena winced as a sharp text tone came in via some weird messenger app.

Unknown: [Apartment Address]

“Unknown?” She asked, and he chuckled.

“Yeah.” He said, and she could honestly picture someone with that much eyeliner and bad hair product choices thinking that Unknown was a witty user name.  She tapped the address, since it looked like a link, and it pulled up the map app, with walking directions since she was so close.

“Oh, that’s nearby, you must have just left home. Do you want to stay on the line while I jog over there?”

“No, just tell me on the messenger when you’re there and I’ll let you in. I have to hang up.”

“Ah.. alright.” Jaena sighed. “Sorry again for running into you.”

“It’s no problem, you’re paying me back by handling the phone.”

“Oh, okay.” She said, and she heard him hang up.

It didn’t take her long to get to the apartment building - one of the expensive luxury-looking ones in the middle of downtown.  Well, at least if he’s a serial killer he’s a well off one and not a rusty saws in the basement type. Wait. Why am I thinking of serial killers? He’s just some poor guy who I made drop his phone. Shaking the negative thoughts out of her head, Jaena stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for 14. While the elevator did its elevating magic, she pulled up the messenger app and typed in a ping to Unknown.

Work: I’m here.

Oh, it really must be his work phone, since the user is set to “Work”. she thought, rolling her eyes at pre-elevator Jaena’s concerns about serial killers. She walked up to the correct apartment number just as her phone buzzed again.

Unknown: Great. Do you see the password lock on the door? Work: Yep! Unknown: I’ll send you the digits. Work: You’re okay with some random girl off the street just going into your apartment? Unknown: I think I know you well enough by now. Unknown: [passcode digits]

Jaena typed in the passcode, and tried not to think about how someone would memorize a code that was that long… excepting, of course, that she already had, even though it was useless. Her brain was just a steel trap that way.

Work: The door’s open. Unknown: Good, why don’t you go inside?

Jaena shrugged and stepped into the apartment, letting the door click shut behind her. Wouldn’t want any strangers walking in behind her or anything. She couldn’t help but look around the place, surprised by the simple furnishings and almost nonexistent decorations.  She looked back down at his phone in order to ask where she should leave it, and if she should plug it in or maybe turn it off, and managed to catch his last messages just before the phone seemed to glitch in her hand.

Unknown: Th Unknown: ank Unknown: You~! <Jaena entered the chat>

Why is my name on this? How does it know my name? Why am I still in this apartment?!

Jaena turned to leave, only to discover that the door had locked behind her, and there wasn’t anything she could do to unlock the deadbolt from the inside. Before doing anything else, she pulled out her phone so she could call the police - sure, she might get booked for trespassing, but being locked in someone else’s apartment wasn’t her idea of a good vacation either. Unfortunately, her phone couldn’t connect to anything. No bars. No open wifi, either.  There was one connection she could see, but it was locked down by MAC address so it would take some time to hack into it, and that was time she probably didn’t have. If whoever this was had her name, they probably knew about her freelance work. She compulsively glanced at the other phone. She’d been dumped into some kind of ongoing chat. The people in it seemed to be talking about classes and midterms and gaming, which was about what she expected, but it didn’t take them long to notice she’d arrived.

The biggest thing she took from their conversation was that one of them was either actually Zen, or was using that name. And he’d called her it. Sheesh. At least use they. 

Well, she thought, If I’m going to be in this chat room, the least I can do is try to get someone here to come get me out of this apartment.

707: Hacker! Jumin Han: Who are you? Reveal yourself. Jaena: Hey, I’m sorry for barging in like this. I’m not a hacker. This is not my phone. I am locked in the owner of this phone’s apartment and need to get out. Can anyone help? 707: Oh… ^^; Wait. 707: Just found something. This is weird. ZEN: What is it? Hurry and tell us. 707: I traced the IP… 707: It’s from Rika’s apartment. Jaena: His name is Rika? Creepy. Still, if you know where I am, you can come get me out, right? I have the code for the door… Jaehee Kang: The location is not revealed. I know it to be classified. Yoosung★: Rika’s a girl. Well. She was. 707: Anyways, someone must have broken into her apt. Jaena: I didn’t break in, I swear… Jaehee Kang: Username “Jaena”, I recommend that you confess. ZEN: Jaehee, would you voluntarily confess to everything if it were you? Jaehee Kang: No. But it is good to ask first. 707: Lolol Jaena: Look. I ran into this guy and he dropped this phone. He called it to find it back and asked me to bring it here. He gave me the code to get in, but the door locked behind me and now the phone has this chat room. I didn’t do anything else. I’m in the dark, somewhat literally, and I’m nervous. Please don’t leave me hanging here. Yoosung★: Oh dang, she confessed? Jaehee Kang: Oh. That was unexpected. Jumin Han: Quit shitting around. Jumin Han: Jaena… Who are you? Jumin Han: Reveal yourself, stranger. Jumin Han: If you do not reveal yourself, you will pay. ZEN: Stranger you will pay? lmfao ZEN: omg ~*so scary*~ Jaena: I honestly don’t know what else I can tell you. I’m also wary of you all since I’m currently held hostage in this place, but even still, you know my name and situation now, what more do you want? ZEN: It might be a girl. 707: That’s sexist lol. You should watch what you say now that you’re a famous actor. ZEN: I’m not famous;; just a bit recognizable.

Jaena blinked. He really is Zen, then?! No wonder they’re worried about me being here, if that’s Zen and the scary one is actually Jumin Han and not just using his name and face for their profile…

Something was wiggling at the back of her mind, something she should be remembering, but it flew out of her mind when she read the next few messages.

707: My hands are shaking as I hack.  If they don’t say anything else, I’ll be able to figure it out here in a minute or so. Zen: Maybe it’s one of my fans.

She stared as Zen and Yoosung introduced themselves, and shared pictures. 707 said that his name was a secret, but that he was a 22 year old hacker. She grinned. That made two of them, seeing as she’d turned 22 just a month or so ago. It was rare to meet someone who claimed themselves to be a hacker at that age and had even the skills to trace an IP back to a location like that. He probably wouldn’t believe a word she said if he figured out she was a freelance hacker, though. The pictures of Jumin and his cat, and then this 707 and Jumin’s cat were adorable, and for sure made her think that these people were at least who they said they were, but… she was still locked in here, and the more she looked around, the more stressed out it made her.

Everything around her was coated in a layer of dust, like no one had been to this apartment in ages.

Yoosung★: All this aside, are they really in Rika’s apartment? 707: Yup. It’s for sure. ZEN: Where the hell is the apartment? Jaena: I will happily share the address if it means someone coming to let me out. It’s… eerily quiet. Jaena: Wait, do any of you know someone who goes by Unknown? He was the one that led me here. Zen: Maybe he just didn’t set a username? 707: It’s mandatory to set a username, so he must have set it that way. Jaena: I didn’t set my name… but it’s my actual name… 707: Maybe… Unknown is a hacker. But no way! I have everything covered. Yoosung★: !!! 707: Jaena, you said he told you the password for the door lock? Jaena: Yep. I memorized it. All the messages from him are gone, unfortunately. Seriously, can no one come let me out? Jaehee Kang: Jaena, you are quite strange as well. ZEN: Do you think this person’s a creep? No way.

Jaena paced while they discussed calling in their leader to help them figure everything out. All she wanted was for someone to come let her out of this place.  This was supposed to be a vacation, damn it. Meanwhile, her brain was chewing on what was going on in the chat, trying to connect neurons that had no reason to be even thinking about connecting. Seven’s a pretty unique nickname…

Suddenly, the user named 707 did an about-face in attitude.

707: Checking into the cameras and the device stats… 707: [Shocked Emoji] 707: Jaena. Don’t move. I’m coming to let you out. <707 left the chat> Jumin Han: That was unexpected. Jaehee Kang: What did he learn from V? <V entered the chat> Jaena: Oh my god finally. I am so scared right now. V: Hello, all. I see I’m the last one to know about this situation. V: Jaena is in Rika’s apartment with info from a stranger, and also logged into this chatroom. Yoosung★: Way to state the obvious. Jumin Han: V, you didn’t give her the password? V: No. I don’t even know it. Only Rika knew.

Jaena stopped pacing as the chat devolved into an argument about who cared most and was cared for most by the Rika person the apartment supposedly belonged to. She only really tuned back in when she saw her name come up again, and had to read back a tick.

V: Only Luciel and I know the address. V: I repeat, since the information must be protected, please do not attempt to find the apartment. V: Do not ask Jaena about it, and Jaena, please do not reveal the address.

Jaena was less concerned about not giving out the address since someone had said they were on the way to let her out already, but she felt her heart rate skyrocket at a single word he’d said. She couldn’t not ask.

Jaena: …Luciel? ZEN: That’s 707’s real name. ‘Luciel Choi’.

Jaena dropped the phone.  Hell, she almost dropped herself.  Choi was one of the most common Korean surnames, but Luciel? Luciel?! Luciel Choi was the name that her Red Riot / Jellal had used for the panel. And this Zen was supposedly actual Zen.  Jaena held her hand up to the cheek that he’d kissed before he disappeared from her life. The chances were better than she felt safe admitting that the man coming to let her out of this terrifying place was the random cosplayer she’d made the mistake of falling for after spending a measly few hours in his company. 

This is some kind of cosmic kismet. That, or I wasn’t a random girl on the street today. Jaena did not want to think about what the latter would mean for her survival chances.  Also, she really didn’t want to think too hard about this mysterious 707 being her Jellal, either. That made her heart do all kinds of things she wasn’t ready for it to do yet. You don’t just fall for someone that fast. Well, unless you’re me…

In a hurry, Jaena picked up the phone again, glad to see that it bore no damage from her lack of ability to keep a grip on a thing through a shocking revelation. The chat room, however… Jaena blushed as she caught up. Apparently she’d sent a message in her shock.

Jaena: sionfnb ZEN: What? Yoosung★: KEYSMASH! Do you know Seven? V: That cannot be the case. Jumin Han: I am stuck on the mystery of how this Jaena ended up in Rika’s apartment, given that it is classified information and none of us know the address let alone the passcode. V: If it’s someone who knows the password… V: It might be someone that Rika trusted. Jumin Han: Someone Rika trusted? V: I am only guessing… Yoosung★: So that Unknown person knew Rika? Yoosung★: And she trusted them more than us? ZEN: I can’t believe she trusted someone more than V. V: It’s hard to believe myself… But we shouldn’t assume that we knew everything about Rika. V: She… V: had a deep world of her own. Yoosung★:  . . . V: If I am right, Rika must have wanted Jaena to be in her apartment right now. And the only reason for that would be for Jaena to pick up where Rika left off.

Jaena stared at the chatroom as they went off on a fast back and forth talking about hosting parties and her doing Rika’s old job.  She didn’t know who Rika was, or what these parties were about, but what she did know was that she was getting more and more uncomfortable being in this apartment. She especially was getting tired of standing in one place, but she had the ominous feeling that Luciel, or 707, or whoever, was being literal when they said not to move.  She hoped he came soon…In the meantime, the chat was assuming things about her again, and she hated it.

Jaena: This whole conversation makes me feel like I’m going crazy. Yoosung★: …I think I’m going crazy too. Jaena: Can we maybe figure out why I was led here before we start planning my future for me? Jaena: Or maybe we can start with… Jaena: Who the hell is Rika? ZEN: Can we tell her? Jaehee Kang: For all we know, Jaena could have simply made up that ‘Unknown’ person, and anything we tell her could be playing into her master plan. V: Thank you for your opinion, Jaehee, but If Jaena is not to be trusted, she won’t be able to get anything out of Rika’s apartment before Luciel gets there. Jumin Han: Hmm. Jaena: You know what? I think I don’t want to know. I don’t want to be trusted. I want to finish my vacation, go home, and not even think about this again. Can we do that? V: I fear it is already far too late for that.

A knock at the door tore Jaena’s attention away from the chat before she could think too much about what V said. 

“Scarlet, my Scarlet, are you in there?” the voice rang out, and Jaena would not miss her Jellal’s voice anywhere.

“Jellal? Red Riot? Is that you?” She called back, and his laugh all but cured her of her tension.

“The passcode’s changed. Do you remember what it was when you got in?”

“Of course!” Jaena replied, and carefully rattled off all fifteen digits of the passcode, trusting him to be able to type fast enough to keep up with her. Moments later, the door swung open, and she laid eyes on the true face of her cosplay companion, looking slightly anxious, but like a dream come true after the last hour or so of her life.

“Come with me if you want to live.” he said, dramatically, then laughed. “No but really, let’s get out of here.” He held out a hand, and she took it, leaving the ominously dusty apartment behind her.

#mystic messenger #mysme #mysmes #mystic messenger fanfic #chapter fic #fanfic #choi twins

[luxielle]

the garden of obsession 2021 Day 5: PETUNIA // resentment

He looks in mirrors for hours sometimes, finding new ways to hate himself, dusting off old ones he'd forgotten. He stores them in the scars that cover half of his body--little reminders of his many failures, lest he run the risk of feeling too free or too forgiven. When you finally catch up to him, though--two years later, two years lost, alive alive alive--you've never seen anything so perfect.

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BONUS: @sunlightheidi's got my favorite VAE party scene rewrite; go read it while you stitch your hearts back together.

#thegardenofobsession2021 #mystic messenger #mysme #saeran choi #mystic messenger saeran #lux does art #ray choi #VAE Ray #look i love this boy #I demand happiness for him #also heidi i know your fic by heart now no need to fix your masterlist links #when i die they will find it folded up in my pocket next to my soul