STEEL HEART

@advchangsub !

Opposed to what the norm consists of, today’s schedule bordered on being entirely free.

Even when such occurrences were rare, Lu Han found various ways to occupy his time; the concept of taking a day off was foreign to him. It is an option that he never comes close to even take into consideration, although there are moments when it lingers at the back of his mind – a distant wish. Or, perhaps, it is less of a wish and more of a personal curiosity towards what it feels like to have a lot of time on your hands to invest not only in personal gain or the well-fare of how business, but in himself. Maybe a day off should be what his following New Year’s resolution ought to be.

Silly thoughts cast aside, his attention shifts towards an entirely different matter as he presses on towards the Co-ed dorms. Among the few things written down in his agenda for the day was a meeting; coincidentally or not, it held the most importance among other tasks. It was nothing official, just a casual meeting with an old friend whom he didn’t have the chance to sit down with for a chat and a cup of tea in what feels like too long – likely, it was. There are many questions that have been running through his mind as of late, both in relation to the person in mention – Lee Soohyuk, by name – as well as a third individual that belonged to their trio.

however, a particular figure catches his eye when he glances up from his computer. the shape is not entirely familiar in that changsub doesn’t know the individual, but he does have a decent idea of whom it might be. what’s really surprising though is when the camera facing the elevator reveals it is carrying its passenger up to the top floor.

he’s not entirely certain that the man arriving on his floor is the same whom he had seen popping in and out of sana’s room with such nonchalance, puzzled why he’s here when he knows at least he most likely resides in the male hall (and maybe changsub got a bit too familiar with his movements once talking to sana and being more than a little shocked at his implied behavior, all the clothes strewn about incriminatingly, but he thinks his concern is more than fair.)

changsub isn’t rash or irrational or anything, (so he’d say) so he doesn’t immediately jump to conclusions or pace out into the hall and give him a piece of his mind like he’s really, really itching to. the firm knock on the door seems to wake him from his thoughts and he nearly jumps. did… did he come to changsub’s room?

instead of puzzling about someone else already in the hall coming to visit, or rolling the possibility of lu han visiting him for some inexplicable reason, changsub glances through the peephole in the door instead.

it is, in fact, that asshole standing out there waiting, dressed in unnecessarily nice clothes. (god, he needs to wire up one of the cameras in the hall so this shit stops happening.)

he waits for a moment before opening the door not because of swirling thoughts but for an effort of schooling his expression -- it’s a worthless attempt when the door swings open and he stands in it, expression as stony as his stiff posture.

( @advchangsub )

soohyuk’s new roommate is a fascinating individual.

perhaps that doesn’t say much about him, but soohyuk finds changsub unquestionably interesting. technology has never been much a friend to soohyuk (particularly after the development of his mutation), but changsub had already filled the living room with his work before he moved in. it isn’t as though soohyuk plans to spend a grand deal of time in their room, and he lives sparsely regardless. having robotic parts spread about the apartment hardly phases him, nor does having all the furniture awkwardly huddled in one corner.

rather, it piques his interest, having a roommate who specializes in robotics. it’s a field which exists in contrast to the one he lays claim to (which is, in his own words, “getting his hands dirty”) – perhaps not contrast, precisely, but it certainly holds little in common. soohyuk likes to know about things that may be useful to him. there’s no such thing as having enough tricks up one’s sleeve.

that aside, changsub is easy to get along with, soohyuk thinks. they share a sense of humor and a second language (that feels more like a first long forgotten) atop certain other tendencies soohyuk mentions less than he silently takes note of them: changsub also has someone he would give anything to protect. dangerous.

soohyuk settles himself on the couch in the corner of the room, long limbs lazily sprawling as they do. he’s been out for much of the day (sitting still never has suited him) and has little idea what his roommate’s been doing in the meantime. he naturally assumes that the younger has been here, working, but there’s no way to know. he certainly doesn’t care enough to actually prod for an answer.

nonetheless, soohyuk does love to prod merely for prodding’s sake.

there’s no real reason for the tremor, but perhaps the added presence of his roommate taking up most of the couch nearby is a contributing factor. not that he’s particularly paying him any mind beyond a perked ear for the snippets of song coming from the other’s phone, but it seems like a good starting hypothesis: soohyuk is, after all, a bit strange.

not that changsub himself isn’t as well in many ways, fair enough, but he finds soohyuk far more jarring than he’s quite willing to admit. he’s human, so far as changsub knows, but there’s something off about him that the younger knows he’s hardly imagining from how he’s seen a few others react to him (but perhaps much more plainly, that damn poppet he carries around... something in those dark eyes.) not that he necessarily dislikes soohyuk by any means (he wouldn’t tolerate living with him then, since it’s not as though he’s forced into it) ...even if he does say some things outright that shouldn’t be spoken so brazenly.

like now. or any other time he opens his mouth, it feels like.

changsub blinks rapidly, eyes shifting between the monitor he has set up, all five of the smaller screens from the camera feed rollings in grayscale side by side, to his roommate unaffectedly still playing on his phone. his face reddens at the obvious implication.

(or maybe shouldn’t be said really at all? probably that.)

“wha--what do you even mean?” he asks, voice pitched a little too high as he tries to not choke on nothing. he looks back to his penciling and attempts to school his expression, but the frown of his brow still scrunches his face, a sign he’s been successfully thrown off even if his next words are delivered in a deadpan tone. (not that that’s entirely difficult to do, throwing him out of whack.) “you suggesting little grainy feeds of hallways really do it for me?”

“only thing i remember seeing is you walking inside earlier. unfortunately,” he mutters, the next words more under his breath. “wasn’t really paying attention, anyway. ” truthfully soohyuk probably is the most interesting thing changsub’s seen walk in and out today, though he’s certainly noted the comings and goings of several other potentials (the dangerous ones, friends, the ones that might be dangerous, the usual) in and out the dorm doors. it’s been mostly uneventful.

“what, are you into things like that? ...should i put the monitor up?”

@advchangsub

Minhyuk is an extremely simple person. He’s always got something on his mind but it’s nothing exciting or new. He’s just the kind of guy who does the first thing that comes to mind and then keeps going on that trail until he finds something else more exciting to do. Its usually a bit odd to see him moving so quickly when cops aren’t involved, which is why today’s sight is a new one. He’s rushing down the hall like he’s got somewhere he needs to be for once- practically running without actually completing the motion. He seems determined to get where ever the hell he’s going in an extremely timely manner. It would seem like something important to anyone who saw him. So what could a certain Lee Minhyuk be trying to do so quickly?

Probably something stupid.

He reaches his destination with far too much energy left. He’s practically bouncing as he knocks on the door- grin on his face as lopsided and idiotic as humanly possible. It’s sort of endearing, maybe. More likely than not just makes him seem even more moronic. The door opens and he practically thrusts the bowl of popcorn he’s been holding into Changsub’s arms and continues grinning. Luckily that bowl was covered- though extremely poorly- with plastic wrap, or Changsub would definitely have a floor covered in corn kernels. Minhyuk basically shoves his friend, more one of his bros (though not the supreme bro of bros), out of the way and enters the room with a dramatic turn.

Definitely something very stupid.

“DUDE! Sub, BRO! I just got the Pacific Rim DVD but with all the bonus content and shit! You’ve gotta watch this with me!” He’s not exactly allowing his friend to talk, but hopefully Changsub’s used to that. He vaults over the back of the couch and lands with a thud. He looks back at his friend and giggles again- waving the DVD box with excitement. 

He’s not really expecting anyone though, so he almost startles at the knock at the door, yelling out a probably inaudible “one sec!” as he drops the bot lovingly into its box and shuffles to the door.

There might as well be a set of exclamation marks stamped over his head when the door opens and he’s greeted with a wide grin; a bit startled, he nearly drops the bowl thrust into his arms -- it only takes a moment of exposure to Minhyuk’s manic grinning for him to beam dumbly as well.

“Oh, Minhyuk--!” he says belatedly, mouth drawing into an expressive oh at the other’s declaration, blinking more rapidly than necessary. Minhyuk’s fun to be around but sometimes his brazenness catches him off guard (maybe since he’s not the only one running his mouth off) but it’s easy to be loud and a bit too wild hanging out with him. Changsub hardly minds it, following around to where the couch’s smushed up close to the tv. 

He watches the dvd case being flailed about with interest, setting down the bowl with only a little more care than it had been shoved in his arms.

“You kiddin’ me? I’ve been meaning to watch it for forever--! --you don’t even know, man,” he immediately replies, an extra bounce in his step as he goes to turn on the tv. “They’re like mechs but real life --and the mechs are supposed to be mindblowing -- or at least look real good from what I heard.”

it’s six a.m. if her head were clear, the words from earlier in the night would come to mind and remind her that there was reassurance in escape─ a promise by a madman but a promise nonetheless. but her thoughts are not crystal, and they do not provide straightened paths for her to take─ not when she speaks, tongue tied in a mess of two languages. it’d be incomprehensible without a special ear even in its norm, but heaving sobs and whimpering breaths make it all the more difficult to discern, even to one attuned to the frequencies of the switch.

she must have run in circles with her words multiple times by now, and still it hardly makes any sense. all that remains clear is the frantic intent and fear behind each syllable, the panic in her voice bouncing off the tattered walls of the still-guarded room.

shiru’s broken ─ people are dead ─ we can’t get out, they’ve died trying; there’s nowhere to begin. everything she says is far from any hint of being chronological, some things more repeated than others. she can’t keep track of herself─ the happenings of the night flash behind her eyes and her wounds sting in reminder.

“why─ w-why aren’t you saying anything? h-hello?”

it hits her, then, like a truck that pins her to a wall and crushes her bones beneath its weight. the trembling of her hands as they clutch her phone intensifies; breaths come sharp and shallow. “hello…?” it comes out weak, soft, like she’s facing yet another nightmare that she doesn’t want to believe in.

she can’t hear him─ she’d forgotten, in the suffocating relief that crashed into her upon realizing that she could finally call for help, that her hearing had been stolen from her hours before.

a wail tears from her throat, pitiful and agonized. she clutches tight at the phone, instinct nearly enticing her to throw it across the room. she manages to not at the last second, a quiet voice keeping it in her grasp.

it’s not as comforting, but there are other ways to communicate that don’t require her to hear. she can barely see through her blurred vision, but she ends the call without warning, pulling up changsub’s name and frantically sending a message instead.

it’s hardly any clearer than her words were, relying on inference to piece together the characters, but it serves to be a better bridge than before.

it doesn’t feel real. initial panic devolves into shock, and changsub distantly wonders if he somehow fell asleep at his worktable with too much taurine in his system, and this is part of some terribly realistic, frightening nightmare his energy-drink-riddled brain’s cooked up.

the sun has not yet risen, and the aircon’s shut off overhead. the dead silence of the building only serves to make the scrambled words coming from the receiver sharper, like sana’s own distress digging into his chest.

it’s impossible to get a word in edgewise or to really even make sense of what she’s trying to say (if there is any sense to the little bits of the hell sana’s been through that he can understand)  -- he says her name, repeats it, trying to get her to breathe; he’s already almost to the door, irrationally ready to go and find her himself, circumstances and consequences be damned -- but then her voice, asking if he’s there.

“h-hello? sana -- sana, i’m here --”

a hand presses against the door, fingers clenched tightly. the timid inquiry is almost inaudible, and he’s overwhelmed with sudden helplessness -- his voice breaks in an involuntary laugh, throat clenching tight. the phone is shaking in his hands as he checks the screen, the mute button clearly unmuted -- his fingers slip right over the speaker button just in time for her wail to echo off the walls of his living room. his legs buckle under him.

(it feels like one of those nightmares then, doesn’t it? with that same crippling feeling. the ones where something terrible is about to happen -- the monster’s closing in, your limbs are leaden; you open your mouth to cry out and your throat is swollen shut -- but this nightmare is something special beyond what his subconscious is quite capable of conjuring, and there’s no waking in a cold sweat here.)

“sana -- sana, i’m--i’m here, it’s gonna be okay,” he says loudly, a shuddering inhale angled away from the speaker the only thing keeping his voice from entirely breaking; he cradles the phone close to his mouth and strains his ears to hear her.

he’s only answered by the angry, rapid beep of the call ending.

“no... no, no no-no--”

he’s fumbling with the keypad, typing in an emergency number even as he’s pushing himself back up on frustratingly unsteady legs, headed in the direction of the elevator with some vague idea of getting ahold of the foundation staff.

“you have contacted incheon emergency services. what is your emergency?”

the operator’s voice bounces off the elevator after an unbearably long pause -- the small ping behind their voice is almost missed, but changsub hears and clicks open the notification -- from sana. the message is... jumbled and its implications impossible to believe, but he knows the worse is best assumed.

[sent] im coming [sent] if youre safe where you are stay there [sent] im getting help

first of all, welcome new kids!! i hope you all have a great time here ^_^

under the cut is information on hyuna’s mutation revamp and plotting information for people i have been plotting with and those of you i have not yet discussed with!! (cause changsub and hyuna really need more threads ah aa)

Silence serves as an answer of its own and stuttering only seems to add more to her suspicions, rather than ease them up. Eyebrows knit together and her eyes squint as she leans forward, likely coming in too close for comfort. Her skilled eye doesn’t miss a sole detail yet, and even with her great caution, her mind finds it convenient enough to say that this stranger which wears Jedi robes is rather cute. The realization of that causes her to blink – once, twice – before leaning away, looking off to the side as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Embarrassment crept up on her, clear not only from the way that she drew back, but also from the pink hue which her cheeks gained.

When an explanation is provided, poor as it is, she wills herself to look back. She grows surprised, although it’s impossible to say that skepticism was no longer present; she’s rightfully giving him the benefit of the doubt and will continue to do so until things seem alright in their entirety. A reminder is set that caution should be kept, even if Bingbing decides to play along now and go for a softer approach; perhaps this would aid her in figuring out just why he was there and with what intentions.

“A sister?” she questions, though in her mind she is already going over all options possible over those whom she knew had siblings. Suffice to say, no answer comes in this little quest of trying to figure out whether or not this was just another lie served up on a silver platter. “That’s awfully kind of you, even if it is rather late,” a nod of the head is given, thereafter a quiet hum sounds up from her lips. There is a way around this after all, she figures – allows her expression to grow soft and a smile to form before she speaks up again, “Although I suppose that time doesn’t matter when it comes to family.” 

Another hum leaves her lips as a hand is brought up, index finger coming to tap against her lower lip in a thoughtful manner, “Who are you looking for, exactly?” a short pause ensues as she fixates onto the man, “I could maybe help in guiding you around the dorm.”

If this would not land her with a proper answer, then nothing else would.

He has no reason but to believe that her blush is from anything but a similar conclusion to the one he thought she might draw and his face flames brighter, almost putting the rusty shade of his hair to shame. Certainly nothing shady going on with one Lee Changsub. Definitely not. (It’s almost miraculous how he manages to resist the now pressing urge to hold the cold metal of the folding chair against his face to cool it and shield his face from view. It is such a terribly tempting urge.)

Changsub nods back, heartrate settling the slightest as she seems to accept his flimsy explanation. He wills his cheeks to stop burning so painfully, scratching at the bridge of his nose to have a reason to cover his face for just a moment. (It doesn’t help that he’s really now quite registered that there’s something rather elegant about the woman before him, quite stunning really, especially compared to him in his silly getup.) His gaze drifts away for a second when she refocuses on him -- and could he really stop making himself more conspicuous? He tries to think about Sana instead, but ends up thinking about instead how she left him for the horror house (with that one pair from his hall, no less -- he’s wondering if he should start questioning her choices more often) and he scrunches his nose for the briefest moment.

“Sana. Minatozaki Sana…?” he answers without a pause for thought, but there’s a note of a sigh that he almost winces at himself for. He’s fairly sure the hesitant ending note isn’t exactly confidence inspiring either, but it’s not why he gives up on keeping the chair from his face and fully presses the back of it against his burning face with a jingle of the cans against its metal frame, muffling a quietly hissed “porra.”

“...And she lives on this floor, doesn’t she?” And here he is, standing next to the elevator on the opposite side of the floor.

It would be really nice if the ground would open up and swallow him alive -- better than roasting alive in his own skin here before she calls someone to remove him, but alas, he wouldn’t have such luck.

|| november 1, 6:01am ||

she’s hardly conscious when the bracelet falls against her, weight like a stone against her thigh. it snaps her awake, has her flail without thought─ that such a thing is now instinct, that the sight of the room being just as empty as it was last her eyes had taken it in was relief in its purest form stands as nothing but testament to the jagged shapes the night’s made of a form fairly soft. 

bleary eyes focus in, not making sense of the band’s restriction around her wrist being lifted; hansol remains unconscious, half in her lap where she’d settled him some time earlier. she doesn’t know how long its been since then. she doesn’t know how many times she’s found herself awake and short of breath only to unwillingly doze off a short amount of time later, but she knows that they’re still as safe as she’d hoped for them to be, and that her stand-in golem-like creations still stand guard at the door as they were meant to. everything seemed the same─ all but the fact that the admission bracelet has unlatched itself. a brief glance lets her know that hansol’s, too, has released him.

before she can think straight enough to wonder why, her phone chirps in her purse, a spam of alert tones chiming the sudden re-connection of service. 

it’s all she needs to know.

hands scramble through the tucked away broken bits of metal to get to the forgotten device, disbelief and hope mixing to paint a series across her expression. tears gather before she has the chance to stop them, and trembling, clumsy fingers take one, two, three attempts before finally dialing a number she knows by heart.

the moment the screen reads ‘call connected’, her voice breaks, spills over in a mess of sobbed out words, pleas of rescue wrapped around fragmented attempts at recounting the night’s horrors.

“help─ help me─ we’re going to die─ we’re all─ i can’t─” 

when sana hadn’t answered the first couple of texts from him, he was… concerned. granted, changsub figured the younger had just gotten caught up in the horror house -- too busy having a good time to message him. a few more hours in, and after an unusual encounter he’s not entirely sure what to think of in a neighboring hall later, and he’s sent a couple of reminder texts (the frequency of which is meant to be annoying rather than overly concerned, really) but still nothing -- it’s then he realizes, of course, the texts aren’t even being delivered.

(he’d insisted she charged her phone, keep his mind easy just in case -- she could have just turned her phone off but he can’t believe she’d do it just to spite him or something... but what else is he supposed to think? he’s got no idea.)

changsub’s considering sleep whenever his phone starts to buzz, the distinctive ring of a call and not the buzz of incoming text messages.

any sleepiness lingering in his system evaporates at the broken voice on the other end of the line. he’s never heard such raw terror in his life.

“sana-- sana--” his voice breaks in reply, clutching at his phone. “tell me -- tell me what’s going on--who’s--?”

his movements are stiffened, and his face drained of all color, her voice chilling him to the bones. it’s as if he’s on autopilot as he fumbles with getting proper shoes on while still holding his phone in a death-like grip; he has no idea what’s going on (has no idea of what could have sana like this or would be able to wrap his head around it even if he did) but he does know that he’s got to get to her.

To say it was late was a misunderstanding of its own. It was long past her personal curfew when Bingbing leaves the male dorms, though she deems the evening to be well-spent and so, that detail doesn’t bother her much. She should do fine with a few hours of rest, even if they aren’t the usual eight which she finds to be ideal. The close proximity between the buildings ensures that she arrives at the female hall within a couple of minutes; it’s one of the things that she is grateful for, seeing how being out at exceptionally late hours of the night isn’t something she particularly enjoys.

Even with Daybreak’s high level of security and the close-to-zero risk of bumping into potentially dangerous individuals, she moves through the open area rapidly. A sigh of relief passes her lips as she faces the entrance door to the building, fingers pressing down onto the handle to unlock and push open the door. Upon entering, her attention shifts to her purse, respectively to retrieving her keys from within it. It doesn’t take much digging around through it for them to be found and then taken out, though it’s then that she comes to notice something else. She’s not alone, which isn’t exactly the issue – were it not for the other person present within the hallway to be male, at least.

For a couple of moments, she stands frozen into place as she gazes at the other, looking rather surprised to find him there. There’s no sense of familiarity, nothing to tell her who the man was or what he was doing around in such a place at a later hour like this; the folded chair which he carried didn’t help either, though she held back from making assumptions just yet. There’s a shift in her expression, going from shocked to neutral but there’s clear rigidity behind it, along with the way that she moves. It isn’t forced, but it still looks mechanical – that’s due to her fears. Even when the man doesn’t look or sound threatening, she gives him the benefit of the doubt.

“I don’t think we have,” she replies as soon as the distance between them is closed down to a few steps. “I can’t help but find myself wonder what it is that you’re doing around here at such a late hour?” her eyes momentarily dart to the folded chair, only to then settle back onto the other. An eyebrow arches slightly and arms come to fold themselves below her bust. Was he here to try and steal? No, that didn’t seem right with the number of cameras laying around the corridors.

“It’s a little late for visiting, I’m afraid,” she tries to rule out any possibility of an escape route being found, “And it feels futile doing that, when you seem to already know that most people are out at the haunted house.”

The look of utter confusion on his face is entirely genuine, eyes wide and smile immediately withdrawn.

Changsub’s immediate thought is still that this woman has to be part of the administration, but why is she asking him such questions if she is? It feels like scolding, like he’s the metaphorical kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar being asked to spell out his misdeeds or duck away admonished -- but even though that thought occurs to him, makes him blush slightly in embarrassment and indignance for being spoken to in such a way, it doesn’t fit quite right, even if she does glance at the chair in his arms he used to get at the cameras. 

The first question merely gets a blink and a mumbled “I…” Changsub gets the urge to both hide behind the chair tucked under his arm like a shield from her rather intimidating stance and to somehow hide the thing behind him if that’d keep it from her scrutiny. He dismisses both thoughts, tells himself he’s not so cowed, even if he’s looking for a way to escape now with eyes shifting slightly. The next statement makes him blink even more in confusion -- but there aren’t strictly visiting hours, are there? 

There’s some excuse of just “exploring” on the tip of his tongue; surely it’s not that strange that he’s just in the hall -- but then it hits him (far too late) that he is, in fact, in the female dorm. 

In the middle of the night. By himself.

His face turns bright red and he nearly drops the bagged cans and chair in an attempt to frantically gesture that he’s not -- he doesn’t know what not but he’s not --

“I--I wasn’t--I’m not--” he stutters out, mind fumbling for any excuse but ones that would lead to the very wrong conclusions that could be drawn or the actual reason he’s there; he hardly thinks that bugging cameras would be taken as anything but negative even if he only has the best of simple intentions. He remembers the bag of energy drinks in his hands and snatches onto a faint idea. 

“I’m just here to see -- drop off some stuff for my sister--”