99.9

jaehyun flipped down onto the floor and started pacing.

"i - i’m not nervous! i’m just being careful! they - they deserve the best and i don’t want to mess it up!” he blabbered, more to himself than the gaggle of petty thieves.

"dude, calm down,” one of them pipes up and jaehyun pauses mid-step, "you’re spider-man! what are you so nervous about?”

"what if they don’t like the ring i picked?” jaehyun - to his credit - does not clam down, instead, his voice rises as he continues to panic, "what if they say no? oh my god - what if they actually hate me and has just been pretending to like me all this time?”

the goons exchanged a glance.

"did you ask them? about... you know?” one of them asked.

"of course i did! i quadruple checked literally three days ago!” jaehyun blurted out, "a - and they just winked and said that they’d love to marry me.”

"so… why are you worried?”

"what if they changed their mind!” jaehyun clutched at his head in a panic, "i forgot to take out the trash yesterday! oh my god - they’re so not marrying me now!”

"bro, chill,” one of the goons held out a placating hand - well, his best attempt at one while his arms are still webbed down to his side, "you should trust them - if they said they want to marry you then you need to believe them.”

"b - but i’m a horrible partner! they made me dinner yesterday and i forgot to eat it!”

"dude, he’s crazy,” one of the thieves whispered to the others, "like - he actually needs help.”

"we’ve been together since we were sixteen. guys, do you think they’re sick of me? it's been a really long time.”

spider-man looked up to the thieves from where he is crouched in the floor - and all of them furiously shook their head and plastered their best smiles on. one of them even shot spider-man a thumbs up.

"no way man - that’s a long time!”

"yeah! if they were sick of you they’d had left a long ass time ago!”

jaehyun took a deep breath and stood up, patting one of the goons on the back.

"you’re right. thanks guys, i really needed this.”

"no problem, spider-man!” one of them wriggled in the webbing, "could you let us go then? in return for being your hypemen?”

spider-man laughed, "sorry, dudes! stealing is still a crime!”

the three of them groaned as spider-man took off - swinging out of the atm room.

"wait - spider-man’s about to get hitched?”

"hi, baby!” jaehyun swung in through the window, landing lightly on the floor and crawling the rest of the way until he has his face pressed into your lap, his mask already pulled off, "did you have a good day at work today? i missed you!”

you laughed, setting down your book and ruffling his hair, "yup, finally handed in the new draft of my paper. sorry i missed you, had to stay behind to explain how dinosaur babies are made.”

jaehyun’s ears flushed a deep red - it seemed like any mention of babies or romance or marriage flustered him lately. not that you would know anything - not when he’s been guarding his sock drawer like a protective dog these past two weeks and launching himself at you when you dared tried to approach his drawers to put his socks away. nope - you didn’t know a single thing.

"y - yeah?” jaehyun coughed and tried to return to a normal colour, "that’s cool.”

"what?” you raised an eyebrow, "you interested?”

jaehyun jumped up, "n - no! i know how babies are made!”

you giggled, "i bet.”

"what are you insinuating?” he did not succeed in his mission. instead, he got even more red - the colour splashed across his cheeks and you resist the urge to tease him.

"hmm - i thought your memory was pretty good? weren’t you talking all about it last night?”

jaehyun spluttered and wrapped his arms around himself, "you’re such a pervert!”

"hey,” you held up your hands in surrender, "you’re the one who blabbed all that.”

jaehyun fumed, “i’m gonna go take a shower!”

you laughed loudly as he scrambled away, picking up his pajamas from where you always left them on the back of the couch and booking it to your bathroom.

"remember, turn the handle to the right for cold water!”

"shut up!”

you watched him eat.

jaehyun chewed dutifully on his dinner while getting his knee knocked by your own repeatedly - force of habit - you said, i'm bad at staying still. jaehyun doesn't mind.

"i think i got better at cooking,” you say absent-mindedly, pushing more meat onto his plate.

"ish weally good,” jaehyun said through a mouthful of broccoli and you laughed fondly.

"i got more time since i got that promotion,” you drummed your fingers on the table, "i’ve been thinking about bringing you lunch so you don’t have to reheat and eat last night’s leftovers.”

you raised an eyebrow at him, "and to make sure you actually eat.”

jaehyun’s head spun.

bring him? lunch? the only people who gets lunch brought to them was - oh god - one of the biochem teachers. she had her husband bring in lunch everyday - husband! he was loud everytime he swept through the office like a hurricane and everyone teased her about her husband everytime and - they’re married! and if [y/n] brings him lunch, then they’d have to be married and then -

"hello? earth to jae?”

you snapped your fingers in front of him and he reacted just as quick, immediately straightening up and trying his best to not look flustered and/or embarrassed.

"what’s that?”

you laughed fondly at him, "nothing. finish your food before it gets cold.”

you picked up his empty bowl and shuffled into the kitchen, humming loudly as you turned on the tap and started scrubbing at the dishes in the sink.

jaehyun slowly brought a piece of meat to his mouth before dropping his fork - it clatters against the plate loudly as he pushed back his chair with urgency.

"honey - wait! no! it’s my turn to wash the dishes! you promised you’d let me do it!”

"ugh! myung jaehyun! go to bed!” you giggled, pushing his arms away from your side as you squirm, "stop that!”

"but i missed you!” he whined, ceasing his tickles and settling for wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into the crook of your neck.

"i’m right here, aren’t i?”

"yeah, but…” he murmured, rubbing his eyes sleepily against your collarbone, "i always miss you.”

you rolled your eyes in the dark, "so clingy.”

jaehyun giggled happily, "you love me.”

"’course i do.”

"i love you too.”

"i know.”

"just making sure,” he exhaled.

you’re warm and almost asleep when jaehyun speaks up again.

"thank you.”

"mm?” you stir slightly.

"thank you for coming into my life,” he whispered, "thank you for making it better. thank you for making me better.”

"you’re welcome, jae,” you slur, finding his curls under your finger and patting it softly. he responds by pressing himself tighter against you, his grip on your tightening.

"i promise i’ll always come home to you. i promise i’ll always be someone you can rely on. i promise myself to you, always. come rain or shine, hell or heaven - i’m your’s.”

jaehyun peeks up from where he’s situated against your chest when you don’t respond, a smile slowly splitting across his face when he sees you’re completely out, eyes closed and mouth slightly ajar as you breathe deeply, your breath tickling your hair.

"sleep well, my love,” he leaves a soft kiss against your skin, nestling deeper into the pillows and blankets, "i’ll meet you in your dreams.”

you remember how bright the sun used to be when you lived alone, waking you up rudely with it’s sun rays beating down on your face.

nowadays, its not so bad. not when jaehyun takes care to block the sunlight from catching onto your face, shifting ever so slowly with his arms still wrapped around you so his shoulders catches the sunrays and leaves them there - the sun warming his back.

"you’re staring,“ you mumble into his chest, and his arms around you tighten.

"i have the world’s most gorgeous person in my arms and i’m not allowed to stare?“ he softly exhales, brushing his nose against the top of your head.

you curl into him, smiling into his skin. somehow, in the middle of the night, you’ve switched positions, with you buried in his chest while he tucks your head beneath his chin.

jaehyun’s hand moves up to brush your hair out of your face, sighing lovingly as he does so.

"can i ask you a question? three, actually,“ he whispers.

"so curious so early in the morning,” you murmur, drawing circles around his heart - you own it - he swears, that’s why you do it. drawing circles around myung jaehyun’s heart so everyone knows it’s yours.

he exhaled a laugh, "humour me.”

"alright, hit me.”

"what day is it today?”

you blink sleepily, "um, thursday? why?”

jaehyun’s chest rumbles under your cheek as he laughs, rubbing his cheek into your hair, "nothing. ready for question two?”

"they better not all be this silly,” you scold, but he can feel the curve of your smile wrinkle up his shirt.

“it’s not - i promise,” he takes a deep breath, "what did you mean? back when you said i was something?”

you pause, thinking back to that first conversation you had all those years ago - when he tripped in the hallway and you picked up his book and told him he was something.

"i guess… i didn’t really know back then. but i do now. you’re something good, jae, you’re everything.”

"really?”

"really.”

the crickets continue to chirp outside your window, and when you shift to look at jaehyun’s face he’s staring off somewhere else, his face doing that thing again - where his nose scrunches slightly because he’s thinking hard and fighting internally with himself about something.

you reach up and poke him in the cheek, he reacts with a startle and immediately laughed when you pinch his cheek.

"satisfied with my answer?”

"very,” he laughs, pinching your side in retaliation, "you’re my everything - too. you know that."

“i do. so - what’s your third question?”

jaehyun looks at you strangely, then his eyes break into something soft, tender - like the type of eyes he gave you at the top of that ferris wheel in the fair, the eyes he had when you finally woke up in the hospital, and the eyes he had when the two of you visited the gravestone of his parents for the first time.

"promise you won't say no?" he fiddled with a piece of your hair.

"is that your third question?"

"huh? no! no... it's not," he groaned, hiding himself in your hair in embarrassment, the tips of his ears going red as you laugh.

"pop the question already, jae. i know my answer."

jaehyun laughs back, pulling back so he can look you in the eye, "you know me too well."

jaehyun breathes you in.

"[y/n], will you marry me?"

for rosy who from literally part two of the spidermyung series has given me a comment along the lines of WHEN WILL THEY GET MARRIED AND BE HAPPY?? this is for you 🤞🤞

♡ or ↻ if you enjoyed, support your writers, thank you!!

he feels the tingle in his nerves change slightly and now he has a new power. telekinesis? maybe? he throws out a hand like he saw the other telekinetics do but nothing happens and his power changes before he can even attempt another fancy hand move. 

super speed? he feels his feet kick at inhumane speeds and he vibrates so hard his teeth chatters, but he’s also still halfway into the floor so he’s now just stuck and nauseous.

the sentinel brings its fists down and woonhak squeezes his eyes shut. 

“terminate the simulation.”

sungho’s voice cuts through the comms and immediately the room stops whirring. drones stop dead in their track and the form of the sentinel shimmers before it disappears. woonhak finally becomes tangible enough to pull himself out of the concrete floor before he becomes a permanent tripping hazard.

woonhak slumps to the ground (solid!) in an undignified heap. he lies there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath. his powers are still flickering through him like a broken radio - for a second he has enhanced hearing (he can hear sungho sighing in the observation deck), then night vision (useless, the lights are on), and what might be echolocation (also useless).

“third time this week, woonhak,” sungho says, the door to the danger room opening with a soft hiss. he doesn’t sound angry, just tired, and that is somehow worse.

“i know,” woonhak says, still on his back, “i’m sorry. i just panic - and everything goes crazy, and then i panic more because it’s crazy, and -”

“and you create a feedback loop,” sungho extends a hand, pulling woonhak to his feet.

“yeah, that.”

woonhak clasps his hands and allows sungho to haul him back onto his feet.

“your powers are manifesting your subconscious needs and emotional state. fear creates chaos, and chaos creates even more fear.”

“so i just need to be… not scared when a giant robot is trying to turn me into a woonhak flavoured pancake?”

sungho gives him what can only be described as a ghost of a smile, “you just need… targeted advice. someone to tell you what your subconscious is trying to do before the fear takes over.”

woonhak’s power flickers through him again - this time it feels like electricity. he shakes it out of his hands and shudders.

“does someone like that exist?”

“i’ve learnt that there’s a person for everything,” sungho checks his watch, “get cleaned up. we’re taking a field trip, and our advisor does not like sweaty teenage boys.”

you’re on the beach, not the nasty kind where sand gets everywhere and sticks to your skin, but a beach where everything is perfect and there are no responsibilities and no one is asking you to carry their emotional baggage and codify it into helpful advice for them in the world’s worst therapy session.

your phone is ringing. you ignore it. the beach is more important. there’s a pineapple drink with a little blue umbrella in it.

the phone keeps ringing.

“go away…” you mumble into your pillow. your dorm is blessedly dark - you’ve duct-taped blackout curtains over the windows after your roommate moved out last semester. the aircon is blasting and no one is around to judge you for napping at 2pm on a tuesday.

the ringing stops. precious silence.

then it starts again.

“my god,” you lurch up and grab the phone and stab the accept call button, “who’s dying?”

the person on the other end clears their throat, “no one… yet.”

you frown at the voice you don’t recognise and pull the phone away to stare at the caller id. ‘big s’. ‘encrypted call’. whatever that means.

“who are you again?” you ask, trying to clear the grogginess in your voice.

“it’s sungho.”

“oh! sungho. hi. great. love this for me. who’s going on a rampage this time?”

“no one. we need you to come in for a consultation.”

“i’m in… in the middle of something.”

“you sound like you just woke up.”

“yes, exactly. i was in the middle of my nap,” you rolls your eyes and pull the covers over you and pray this call takes less than five minutes, “get jiwoo to do it. or lily. you know, the actual telepaths.”

“this isn’t a telepath situation. it’s a… you situation.”

you groan, “sungho. i have a biochem lab tomorrow. you can’t do this to me.”

“listen -”

“- i already helped you last time when you called me to help diffuse the situation with a guy who could only speak in colours.”

“and you did a wonderful job.”

“and i missed my organic chemistry test because of it,” you drag a hand down your face, “i’m trying very hard to maintain a normal life here, sungho. and normal lives don’t include ditching class to translate emotions for literal walking talking bomb threats.”

“i understand, and i apologise. but this is important. we have a new recruit whose powers we believe will thrive with the right guidance. your guidance.”

“get someone else, sungho.”

“there is no one else.”

there’s a deep seated hatred for sungho growing in your soul right now as you suck a deep breath in. calm. ocean waves against sand. pineapple drink with a blue umbrella.

“what’s so special about this new guy?” you sit up in your bed.

“his powers manifest randomly based on emotional need, but, as you might expect, he has no understanding of what they do or how to control them. he needs an interpreter, and you're the best interpreter we have.”

you stay quiet for a long moment, weighing your options. you could say no, go back to your delicious nap, and pretend this conversation never happened. but there’s something in sungho’s voice - he wouldn’t be asking you this if it wasn’t a last resort.

“this is a consultation, right? quick evaluation, i give you my professional opinion, and i’ll be back for lab tomorrow?”

there’s a pause that’s a few seconds too long.

“sungho.”

“we’d prefer you to run some preliminary field tests with him.”

“you lost me.”

“[y/n]-”

“fields test equal danger room. equal at least a whole day. equal barely anytime to prepare for lab. equal my gpa falling. equal -”

“i understand,” sungho interrupts, “we’ll compensate you for your time.”

“i don’t want compensation. i want a degree!”

“what if,” sungho says carefully, “we arranged for… academic support? professor xavier has connections with the university. he would ensure your professors are understanding about your absences.”

“that’s called academic dishonesty.”

“it’s accommodations for a student with unique demands on her time,” sungho corrects.

you flop back onto your bed, you can feel the beginning of a headache forming - not from your powers, just from sheer annoyance of the conversation.

“you’re not going to let this go, huh?”

“no.”

at least he’s honest.

“his name is woonhak. he’s eager, well-meaning, a quick learner, and also currently a danger to himself and others because he can’t predict what his powers will do. yesterday he manifested laser eyes and put a whole through the entire left wing of the mansion. last week he phased through five floors and ended up in the sewers of chicago,” sungho says, like he’s pitching you a ikea put-it-together-yourself! project instead of a person.

you feel a flicker of sympathy. you remember being new and young, being uncertain about her powers, not knowing what exactly you could do. 

“you think i can help him?”

“i think you’re the only one who can.”

you sigh. long, loud, and exaggerated, to make sure sungho can hear how deeply inconvenienced you are from the other side of the line.

“fine. but compensation. and i bill by the hour and by cups of coffee from my favourite spot.”

“deal.”

“and professor owes me a personal apology letter to my biochemistry teacher.”

“i’ll draft it myself.”

“and i want -” you try to think of something to demand in the exploitation of this unfair power dynamic, but you blank - “whatever. i’ll be at the mansion in an hour.”

“actually, we’re outside already.”

“you’re what?”

“in the parking lot. blue car. thought it would be more efficient.”

“you don’t have a license,” you mutter suspiciously.

sungho laughs nervously, “nobody needs to know that.”

you look around your room. laundry everywhere, books opened and furiously coloured with highlighters, three coffee mugs on the table.

“give me twenty,” you mutter.

“understood. thank you, [y/n].”

you hang up without responding and drag yourself out of bed. you look like a mess - because the better the nap the more wild you look.

“normal life,” you mutter to yourself, running a hand through your hair, “i could have a normal life. be a chef. work at a bookstore. but no, i just had to have weird emotion-reading powers.”

you finish in eighteen minutes, a new record. the air outside is warm and sticky as you push open the doors, autumn’s humidity clinging to you like a second skin. your biochem book is in your hands, because you’ll study in the car, and your shoelaces are untied. the campus is busy - students chattering everywhere, heading to classes, laughing with friends, living normal lives. you weave through them, gritting your teeth at how suddenly it’s everyone's first day on a university campus and no one knows how to act. you think about how nice it would to be worried about nothing more than exams and which party to hit up next.

you spot the blue car immediately. it’s ugly, as you expected. no superpower could fix bad taste. sungho sits sprawled out in the driver’s seat, and in the passenger seat is a guy around your age, all nervous energy and fidgeting hands. you watch how he keeps checking himself in the mirror every few seconds. you catch his eye in between blinks and your eyes meet.

even from a few feet away, you can feel the absolute chaos of his emotional state - anxiety, excitement, hunger, fear, determination. all swirling together like a storm in human form.

“wonderful,” you mumble, wrenching open the passenger door, “this is going to be a disaster.”

you fling your book into the backseat and slide in after it.

“hi!” the guy twists around to face you, his smile bright and genuine and way too energetic for 3pm tuesday, “i’m woonhak!”

“noted,” you say curtly.

“it’s so nice to meet you. sungho told me about your powers and i just think its so rad that you can -”

“coffee first,” you interrupt, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the headrest, “talk later.”

sungho starts the car, “there’s coffee at the mansion.”

“are you trying to poison me?” you scoff, “i want the expensive coffee. from my favourite place.”

sungho sighs, “we’ll stop on the way.”

woonhak is still turned around, still looking at you with those earnest, eager, hopeful eyes. you can feel his emotions without even trying - he’s nervous about making a good impression, excited at the prospect of maybe making sense of his powers, anxious about how it entirely works, hopeful this might be the answer he’s been looking for.

it’s exhausting.

“you can turn around now,” you remind him, eyes still closed.

“oh, yeah,” he faces forward, clicking his seatbelt into place, but he’s still vibrating in his seat and you’re pretty sure he’s peeking at you through the mirror.

“coffee. now. and get woonhak a doughnut. he’s practically broadcasting hungry.”

you made the right decision to detour for coffee. you clutch the latte in your hands like it's the only thing keeping you tethered to the normal world as sungho pulls through the gates of the mansion.

woonhak hasn’t stopped talking, not since he’s finished his doughnut.

“- last night, i dreamt that i was floating, and when i woke up - bam! i really was! my nose was touching the ceiling and everything. but i got scared and i immediately fell down and i got even more scared so i manifested, like, absorption impact. it was weird. i ended up blasting a hole into hyung’s room and -”

you wonder if he ever stops talking. you think you prefer your lab partner, who’s biggest flaw is that he doesn’t wash the beakers properly and you have to go back to the sink every time to do it yourself. you take a long, deliberate sip of your coffee.

sungho ushers you inside, and you’re immediately hit with the familiar sensation of the mansion - dozens of emotional signatures layered on top of each other. students worried about controlling their powers, teachers stressed about lesson plans, heroes anxious about their next mission, and the constant, buzzing fear that comes with being a superpowered mutant.

you’ve learnt to filter it out over the years, like white noise, but woonhak emotions cut through everything else like a siren - wee woo wee woo-ing his excitement and fear.

“[y/n]!” sakura appears in the hallway, “sorry for such short notice! thanks for coming.”

“i go where i’m needed,” you grumble.

“the professor is waiting in his office. we need to brief you on the situation before we begin the comprehensive tests.”

“comprehensive tests?” woonhak perks up, “i thought we were just doing an evaluation?”

sungho and sakura exchange a look.

“no - i agreed to preliminary field tests, only. the one day type situation. comprehensive tests means multiple sessions and i’m not -”

“let’s just let the professor handle it,” sakura interjects smoothly, already guiding you down the hall.

you shoot sungho a withering look, at least he has the decency to look somewhat apologetic.

professor xavier’s office was always too tacky for your liking. too many old books and it always smelt like tea - deliberate ambience. it couldn’t deceive you. you know he’s a complete fool.

“[y/n],” the professor greets you warmly, “it’s wonderful to see you again. how are your studies progressing?”

“would be progressing better if i wasn’t here,” you mumble, xavier gives you the textbook definition of a tight smile.

“i apologise for the sudden summon. i’ve already sent a notice to your professors explaining you’ve been called away for a family emergency.”

“a family emergency,” you repeat, “is that what we’re calling this?”

“well, in a sense, we are family here,” xavier gestures to the chairs in front of his desk, “please, sit. both of you.”

woonhak practically throws himself into a chair, still alight with nervous energy. you hope you’ve achieved more grace with the way you take to your seat slowly.

xavier steeples his fingers, his expression losing that hint of warmth and more serious, “woonhak, i understand sungho has explained why we’ve asked [y/n] to consult on your training?”

“yes, sir,” woonhak quickly replies, sitting up straight, “because my powers manifest randomly and i don’t know how to control them. and [y/n] can read emotional intent and translate it into… um… instructions?”

he glances at you uncertainly as the ending of his sentence falters.

“close enough.”

“your power is quite unique, woonhak,” xavier nods knowingly, “we’ve seen adaptive powers before - minji absorbs abilities through touch, and yunah can copy powers, but your manifestation is different. you don’t copy or absorb. you generate entirely new abilities based on your subconscious emotional needs in the moment.”

“right. so, to summarise,” you set down your coffee cup, half empty, “you don’t know what you’re doing half of the time.”

woonhak slumps, “yeah, it’s like, i’m just constantly surprised by what my own body is doing.”

“precisely,” xavier turns to look at you, “and that’s where you come in. your ability to sense and interpret… emotional intent - makes you uniquely qualified to help woonhak understand what his subconscious is trying to accomplish before the power fully manifests.”

woonhak perks up, “it’s like your power is made for mine!”

you ignore him, his relief and excitement stinging over you like electrical signals.

you take in a deep breath, “so i’m basically going to be his instruction manual.”

“think of it more as… a translator,” xavier suggests gently, “his powers speak a language he doesn’t yet understand. you can interpret that language for him.”

“and you believe this will help control his powers?”

“we believe, with proper guidance and experience, woonhak’s powers will stabilise. it wouldn’t eliminate the randomness - that appears to be intrinsic, but it will give him the tools to work in tandem with his powers rather than fight a battle against them.”

you roll the suggestion around in your mind like sisyphus pushing a stone up a hill. you can feel woonhak’s hope radiating off him like a heat from a furnace, his desperate desire for this to work, for someone to finally put sense to his chaos. 

“let me ask you something,” you finally say, turning to woonhak. he straightens at your voice.

“what do you want to do with your powers?”

“i want to help people,” woonhak answers without hesitation, “i want to be good.”

“define good.”

“like, doing the right thing,” woonhak says, less confident than before, you feel hesitation trickle down his spine, “saving people.”

you frown. unconvincing.

“please,” woonhak says quietly, desperation rolling off him in waves, “i just want to be useful. i can’t be useful if i’m falling down sewers or floating away every time there’s a threat. i just want to protect what’s important to me.”

he looks down at his hands like he’s mourning what he could do. regret pings off him in sparks and shame fills your lungs - his. you watch as he flickers between them and your figure - hopeful, but also telling himself he can’t be.

“how long?” you finally ask, the question directed back at the professor, “i can do a one-time evaluation, maybe a few trial tests. but i can’t put my life on hold for - for a guy.”

xavier and sakura exchange looks. you’re starting to hate these looks. just pretend you don’t acknowledge each other like normal telepaths do.

“we were hoping,” sakura says carefully, “that you might consider more… ongoing arrangement.”

“define ongoing?” 

“a few sessions per week. possibly more if it's urgent.”

“a few sessions per week,” you repeat slowly, “while i’m a full-time student, with a course load that people without a secret superhuman consulting job find way too much already.”

“we will take the necessary measures,” xavier suggests, leaning forward in his wheelchair.

“like what?”

“providing academic support, and i have connections with several of your professors -”

“so you’re gonna bribe them or do your telepathic mumbo jumbo to them. got it.”

“i prefer to think of it as letting them know you’re doing valuable work outside of the classroom.”

you breathe in, “and what if it doesn’t work?”

“it will,” sakura says firmly, like she has complete faith in professor xavier’s brainwashing capabilities.

you look at the two of them skeptically, “this is insane. you’re asking me to drop everything.”

“you have a gift, [y/n]. a gift that could help someone who needs it. is that so insane?”

“it’s like a full-time job,” you say.

“we’ll try to be understanding of your other commitments.” keyword: try.

you look at woonhak, who has been uncharacteristically quiet through the whole exchange. his emotions swim around him in a miasma - guilt that he’s causing problems, hope that you’ll say yes, fear that you’ll say no. and under all that, a deep, aching loneliness he thinks no one will understand.

the stone rolls down the hill.

“damn it,” you mutter.

“is that a yes?’ xavier asks, the slight smile on his face suggesting he already knows the answer, probably because he saw your metaphorical sisyphus rock roll down the hill through his telepathic bullshit.

“yes, maybe,” you grumble, “one month. if it’s not working and woonbaby over here doesn’t improve, or my grades slip, or your connections with my professors aren’t connecting - i’m out. no guilt tripping and no ‘but he needs you!’ speeches. and no puppy dog eyes.”

“that seems more than fair.”

“and a better coffee machine. the mansion coffee tastes like it's been there since the 1980s.”

“understood. i’ll speak to the kitchen staff,” xavier says, amusement clear in his voice.

“and if we’re going to do this, woonhak,” you turn to him and he jumps at his name, “you need to be honest with me. about what you’re feeling, what you’re struggling with, all of it. i can’t help you if you’re hiding things.”

“i can do that,” woonhak says immediately, “i’m an open book. way open. people tell me i overshare sometimes and -”

“great. perfect. wonderful,” you cut him off, “when are we starting?”

“how about now?” sakura suggests, “the danger room is unoccupied.”

you look at your half empty coffee cup. you think about your untouched biochem textbook and your comfortable bed back at dorms. 

you look at woonhak, who is looking at you with said puppy dog eyes and like you just offered him a life raft in the middle of an ocean. 

“fine,” you sigh.

“okay,” you say, inserting your data into the computer, “let’s establish some ground rules.”

you hold up a finger, “first, when i’m reading your emotions - it’s not telepathy. i’m not in your head. i’m sensing what the purpose of the emotions are, which means -”

“you experience my emotions secondhand,” woonhak finishes, “but unlike me, you also know what i’m actually feeling and what my emotions are manifesting into.”

“look at you, clever kid.”

“feeling other people’s emotions all the time - it must be painful. is it painful?”

“sometimes,” you admit, because you’re too lazy to lie, “but that’s not your concern.”

“it feels like it should be my concern,” woonhak frowns.

“just trust me,” you breathe in, “this is about you working with me, not worrying about me. concentrate on yourself.”

woonhak nods, but you can feel his anxiety spike anyways, leaving you with goosebumps down your arm. great. thirty seconds in and everything’s already worse than when you walked in.

“second,” you try to recalibrate, redirect - “when i give you an instruction, you follow it immediately. no ums and ahs. no hesitation, second guessing, or talk backsies. your power responds to emotion and intent - if you doubt yourself, you’ll lose the power.”

“okay. trust you. don’t doubt myself. got it.”

“third, if at any point you feel like you’re losing control. you tell me. immediately. no dilly dallying. don’t push through it, don’t try to be tough. just tell me.”

woonhak fiddles with his fingers, “why?”

“because your powers are connected to your emotional state. if you’re spiraling, you’re losing control, and i can’t help you. i need to know so i can help you course correct before something explodes.”

woonhak eyes widen, “explode? me?”

“it’s just a figure of speech, let’s hope it stays that way.”

you press your palm against the scanner on the door to the danger room, and the panel slides open. you can feel sakura and sungho’s simmering anxiety when you step closer to the observation deck. the danger room whirrs to life around you, but it doesn’t change appearances - baby mode, you deduce, for dummy testing.

“let’s start simple,” you step away from woonhak, “i want you to try to manifest a power. any power. just focus on needing something and see what happens.”

“er,” woonhak stands in the middle of the room, looking like a lost baby chick, “like this?”

“like… that,” you wave non-committedly at him.

woonhak closes his eyes and concentrates. you watch him, extending your power carefully. you feel his emotions shift - determination, focus, performance anxiety.

and then, like a switch flipping, you feel his power activate.

it hits you like a wave of vertigo. the world suddenly has too many dimensions, space folding in on itself in ways that makes your stomach lurch. spatial manipulation? reality warping? something that fundamentally breaks geometry and laws -

“got it,” you press a hand to your forehead.

woonhak’s eyes fly open, “what? did i do something wrong?”

“no, you did something right,” you hiss through teeth and wait for the sensation to pass, “i’ll give you a gold star sticker later. right now, concentrate on the power. probably some kind of spatial distortion ability. do you feel it?”

woonhak looks down at his hands, confused, “my hands are kinda tingly.”

“that’s it trying to activate. your subconscious generated the power, but you don't know what to do with it, so it's just sitting there.”

“then what should i do?”

“think about what you need.”

“i don’t know? to understand what i’m doing.”

“deeper, woonhak. be more introspective. your subconscious manifested spatial manipulation for a reason. think. what do you need space for?”

woonhak is quiet, thinking. you can feel him sorting through his emotions like a stack of cards, trying to identify the source.

“i need room,” he starts, quiet, “i feel… cramped. like my powers are too big for my body and i need more space to contain them.”

you blink, “good.”

“what now? how do i use it?”

“can’t. too advanced for day one,” you step closer, watching him carefully, “i want you to let it go. release the power.”

“i can do that?”

“letting go is part of control, woonhak. you need to learn when to hold a power and when to release it.”

he looks uncertain, but he closes his eyes again. you feel him struggling with it - his instinct tries to hold on, and he tries to force it out in a push, like it could pop out of his body if he clenched hard enough.

“don’t force it,” you bark, “think of it like releasing a breath, not forcing out a stool.”

woonhak snorts, but slowly, gradually, you feel the spatial distortion power face. the vertigo eases and the world returns to normal geometry.

“did i do it?”

“you did,” you give him a small encouraging smile, “first lesson - manifestation and release. you’re going to practice that until it’s second nature.”

“when’s that?”

“when i say you’re done.”

he groans but nods. 

“its nice. having someone who understands what’s happening. usually i’m just flailing around hoping i don’t phase through a wall again.”

“don’t get used to it. you need to learn to rely on yourself, too. one month, remember?”

“right. trial period,” he nods furiously, but his emotions tell a different story - like he’s already hoping you’ll stay longer, already imagining what it would be like to have someone who actually understands. 

but you love to disappoint.

rule two: never question me. always trust me.

woonhak’s room is quiet except for woonhak’s occasional frustrated breathing. you’re nestled on woonhak’s bed - on your laptop that you’re supposed to be taking notes about organic chemistry on.

“again,” you say, without looking up.

“but i’ve done it fifteen times already!”

“you’ve only done it fifteen times,” you correct, “you need to hold your power for at least two minutes. you’re only at forty-five seconds.”

woonhak sighs like a kid being told he has to finish his homework before he can play on the ipad and closes his eyes. you watch as his power activates again - it’s like a buzzing under your skin, an emotion sharpens into focus.

alertness, tension wound tight around awareness. a strain and desperate need to not miss a single thing.

“heightening perception,” you say slowly, “hearing? other senses?”

woonhak’s eyes open in surprise, “yeah! i can hear… everything. like taesan’s record player from upstairs.”

“makes sense,” you say, highlighting a word on your document, “some part of you is probably afraid of missing something important. now, the critical part is not fighting it, acknowledge the need and let the power do it’s job.”

you can feel him trying, holding onto his power but not tugging on it. his feelings stabilises slightly as his frustration mellows out.

forty-five seconds.

fifty seconds.

a minute.

“new record,” you whisper.

one minute fifteen.

one minute thirty -

the power flickers out like birthday candle. woonhak slumps to the floor, shaking his head like an oversized dog.

“minute thirty seven,” you announce, “good job.”

“really?” he lights up immediately, all exhaustion forgotten, “that’s like two minutes!”

“it’s like one minute and thirty-seven seconds. you do know how time and minutes work, right?”

woonhak rolls with it, unperturbed, “i’m celebrating!”

he sprawls onto his back, grinning at the ceiling, teeth and all, “minute thirty-seven, that’s like, way better than yesterday.”

“uh huh. yesterday you managed fifty-two seconds before you put your hand through the wall because you accidentally manifested super strength.”

“in my defense, i panicked and got too excited.”

“i know,” you deadpan, “i was there, and you panic a lot. that’s your default reaction to everything.”

“i’m working on it,” he looks at up at you curiously, “how do you deal with it? all those emotions at once.”

you consider the question, "learnt to tune it out. it feels like background noise now - irrelevant, uncessary. like when you’re at a party and twenty different conversations are happening around you but you gotta concentrate on the desperate guy trying to tell you about his vhs collection in front of you.”

"i’m never been to a party,” woonhak mumbles.

"you’re not missing much,” you stab a key on your keyboard, "practice. you still haven’t reached minute two yet.”

"okay, okay,” he sits up and closes his eyes again, and you scoff at how he never questions you - what a rule abiding goody two shoes.

rule three: always tell me if something is wrong

"i can’t do it.”

you look up from your biochemistry notes, because your life isn’t complicated enough by basically being an emotional sponge, and squint at woonhak, who’s sitting on the floor with his head in his hands.

"tell me,” you prompt.

"i can’t do anything of it - the powers, the control drills. they just keep shifting before i can figure out what they are! i’ve been at it for an hour!”

you lean forward in his chair - elbows on your knees, "what happened?”

"i don’t know!” he stares down at his fingers, "i was doing so well yesterday! i was hitting three minutes consistently - sometimes even four! but i can’t even feel it today. it’s like - like my own body doesn’t want to listen to me!”

you push his sweaty hair out of his eyes with a delicate finger and a feeling pops out from where your skin grazes his skin. it’s gnaws at you like a dog with blunt teeth - it doesn’t hurt, but it chews.

"homesick?” you say softly, "a call from home?”

woonhak’s swallows harshly, "i can’t hide anything from you, can i?”

"nope,” you lean back in his chair, wiping your finger against your shirt, "tell me.”

woonhak is back to fiddling with his fingers, because he can’t sit still and his brain runs a mile a minute like he’s trying to break the record for world’s most anxious marathon.

"my mom called, said she misses me. asks if i’m eating well and if training is too hard. i told her i was learning to control my powers and everything’s great. but - but i don’t know if that’s the truth.”

"you held a power for five minutes yesterday,” you point out, "i know you’re bad at maths and telling the time, but do you know how many things you can do in five minutes, woonhak? a lot - you can do so much.”

"but what if that’s just a fluke? what if its just a lucky try?”

you’re quiet for a moment, "come on.”

"where are we going?” woonhak asks as you stand up.

"training room.”

"i told you. i can’t do it today -” you shush woonhak.

"i’m hearing a lot of this chattering but i want,” you clap your hands together, "silence."

woonhak nods dumbly as he stumbles to his feet.

"trust me."

you back out into the hallway of the mansion and woonhak patters after you like a sad dog in pouring rain, confusion radiating off of him. you can practically see the question mark over his head.

the training simulation is simple. a few swaying targets, a basic obstacle course.

"manifest something,” you stand back, "anything.”

woonhak frowns - "can’t.”

"don’t talk back,” you snap, and woonhak straightens in attention. you watch as he defeatedly sighs and closes his eyes. something flickers through him - anxiety? but it’s gone as soon as it comes and leaves the lingering bitterness of doubt. 

powers swing through his body, his feet is alight with super speed and next it’s anchored down by metallic armour. his fingers tingle with telekinesis until it shatters into time manipulation. he doesn’t even have a second to manipulate, though, but it’s just replaced with simple super strength.

"see?” he sighs, "can’t.”

"again.”

you say forcefully.

"it’s not going to -”

"again.”

he tries again to the same results.

"[y/n] -”

"again.”

"i can’t do it!”

"again!”

something in him breaks and frustration bursts out of him like water breaking through a dam. a target explodes into smithereens and both of you cough as fine dust spreads through the room.

woonhak stumbles back, eyes wide, "what was that?” he manages through his coughs.

"frustration,” you say, wiping at the tears that gathered at the edge of your eye. the training room’s machine activates as it starts cycling clean air back in - never a stranger to unintentional simultaneous combustion.

"you’re trying to control it - but you can’t. that’s a feeling too. it manifested as a spark - an explosion, because that’s what you feel. there’s no specific manifestation, just pure power.”

woonhak frowns, "but that’s not useful, making things explode is not handy at all.”

you tap your head, "first of all, many problems can be solve via explosion. secondly, your powers aren’t failing. you’re just anxious, scared, which makes your power unstable.”

you place a hand on his shoulder, "you can’t let your anxiety control you, woonhak.”

"i don’t trust myself,” he’s trembling under your touch.

"then trust me. lean on me. but also learn to accept yourself, and the fact you’ll make mistakes, and the fact that it’s okay.”

"you’re really bad at bringing the mood up. no wonder you don’t like parties,” woonhak laughs wetly.

“excuse me. my kindergarten teacher told me i was a joy to have in class,” you squeeze his shoulder as your tone softens, "do you know what i feel from you right now?”

"failure?”

"no, fear. you’re scared of disappointing your mom, you’re scared of wasting peoples’ time. but do you know what else i feel? determination.”

you poke him in the chest, over his heart, "it’s just so teeny tiny down here that you want to ignore it. but it’s there. i know you want to try - so hard. that’s all you need, woonhak.”

“is that enough?”

“of course. trust me.”

rule four: let’s be open to each other.

you twist and turn around in the bed. the pillow smells like a garden after rain, which of course it does, because that’s the perfume woonhak uses. he insisted you take the bed (you wrinkled your nose when he said he had a sleeping bag) and demoted himself to the floor. you pull the blanket up as your cheeks heat up at the fact that you are wrapped in his scent and it just makes it worse. it smells like him but sweat free, and it smells comforting, like cool dew dripping from leaves and the earthy tones of dirt. 

"are you asleep?” you whisper softly, muffled by feather down and soft moonlight.

you hear woonhak’s sleeping bag shuffle before a zipper gets pulled down.

"no,” he whispers back, speaking into the cool midnight air. you can feel his anxiety hum through the air.

"you should sleep,” you frown.

"but you’re awake.”

"no talking back,” you grumble, and woonhak chuckles.

"why are you still awake?”

"exam in four days,” you stare out into the darkness, "i don’t think i know the content.”

"i’ll quiz you tomorrow. you should sleep.”

"quiz?” you scoff, "woonhak, you don’t even know which blood cell carries oxygen.”

"i can still read from your textbook!” woonhak defends himself, his sleeping bag rustling more now. you can imagine the wide eyed look he always gives when he thinks he’s been wronged.

"tomorrow, you can try,” you let scepticism bleed into your voice.

"i want to help you too,” woonhak starts playing with the zipper on his sleeping bag. it makes a clinking noise, "you’re doing so much for me.”

you let silence consume the room.

"can i tell you something?”

"always.”

you take in a deep breath, "my first mission. i was fifteen, fourteen? it was supposed to be a simple undercover mission at some company building. the goal was to get in, disable some security codes for the main team, and get out. but somehow they found out about it - the enemy. they ambushed us. we were completely caught off guard. i don’t remember much - just suddenly the entire building exploded into intense panic. i felt like i had ants crawling all over my skin, i’ve never been burnt but i guess it would be something like that. it was so scary. my brain completely shut down and i would’ve died if my partner didn’t drag me out.”

you grab a fistful of blanket - "the worst part was - was there were injuries. we couldn’t prevent them. for some people it might have just been a temporary upset, or a guilt - because injuries heal and it wasn’t our fault, however they justify it. but - but i wasn’t for me. i felt their fear, panic, and pain. it felt like i broke every bone in my body. you can’t forgot emotions like that.”

you bury your face into woonhak’s pillow, "i was so scared of my powers afterwards. quit the institute and packed my bags to go home. i kept thinking about what would happen if i failed one day, if someone died, and what would happen to me if i could feel that. i could live with background noise emotions, but i had nightmares about what ifs. i never linked myself up so - so closely up with other people like that ever again.”

you sprawl out, suddenly feeling too hot and the bed too small for your big feelings. the slight breeze cools the heat that pools in your palms, "i don’t do this for just anyone, woonhak. you’re helping me already - just by being yourself. i’m learning to not let my powers control me, too. i’m trying to be brave again.”

you hear him shuffle before a warmth envelopes your fingers. you realised he’s grabbed your hand that dangle over the edge of the bed when a flurry of emotions - not your’s, settles like a light layer of snow over you. nervousness at his actions, sadness at your story, gratitude that you trust him enough to let him know. 

"i’m sorry that happened,” he picks his words carefully. you still can’t see him over the edge of the bed and the darkness, "you’re being really brave. thank you for telling me.”

he squeezes your fingers.

"you were vulnerable this morning,” you let out an unamused huff, "it’s my turn. relationship economics.”

"okay,” he whispers, "let’s be open to each other, from now on.”

"okay,” you move your hand so you’re gripping him too, "deal.”

"thank you for not giving up on me.”

"oh, no, don’t mistake me. the paperwork would be a nightmare if you quit.”

woonhak chuckles, "you’re honest, even if you wound me.”

"i’ve learnt that hiding emotions don’t actually do much in the end,” you give his hand a squeeze, this time, "that’s why i like you. you wear your emotions on your sleeve.”

"you like me?”

"you’re easy to read,” you correct.

"i’ll take that as a compliment,” his voice drops into a quieter volume, "you should go to sleep. we still have training tomorrow.”

"okay,” you settle back into the mattress, "goodnight, woonhak.”

"goodnight, [y/n],” his thumb rubs comfortably across your knuckles as you finally let sleep take over.

"are you ready?”

sakura appears in the door of the danger room. woonhak has suddenly taken to doing push ups on the floor while you chug your water, exhausted by the recent training session. woonhak can consistently hold a power for five minutes now, and he’s becoming overly self-confident - he thinks doing push ups makes him look sexy. you’re still thinking how best to humble him.

"ready?” you look up at sakura as woonhak claps dirt off his palms, "woonhak can do five minutes now. we’re working towards six.”

"that will have to do,” sakura purses her lips, "what about you?”

"what about me?” you ask, before realisation dawns on you when you feel sakura’s hesitance dance across the room.

"oh. oh no. i am not field mission material.”

"you’re field mission material for this mission alone,” sungho appears behind sakura, tablet in hand, "we need you two specifically.”

woonhak jumps to his feet, suddenly on high alert, "we’re ready!”

"no - no we’re not. don’t listen to him,” you’ll let him do as many push ups he wants to do, "i’m not ready.”

"i’m afraid you’ll have to be,” sungho shakes his head, "it’s a situation i believe only you two can handle.”

"what situation?” woonhak blurts, he avoids your burning stare - you didn’t raise him to have free will!

sungho crosses the room in easy strides while tapping on his tablet. he stops in front of you two and you groan as you pull yourself up to your feet. the screen shows aerial footage of a small town shrouded in thick mist.

"mist,” you say flatly, "you’re worried about mist? just uncondensise it with your powers or something. you can literally control the weather.”

"no, that’s not it,” sakura cuts in, tapping the screen so it zooms in. you watch as silver flashes under the mist, curling and unnatural.

"the mist appeared two days ago in millbrook, approximately forty miles north. population of about 3000, now completely cut off from outside contact,” sungho finishes.

he swipes to another video - one taken from the edge of the phenomenon. buildings are visible through the fog, but they’re… wrong. twisted. you watch a particularly thick patch of fog temporarily covers a building and when it drifts away the roof is angled in the opposite direction. a street sign is readable but the letters keep moving and glitching like a computer screen.

“it doesn’t comply with normal physics. space and logic break down inside it. we’ve sent in reconnaissance drones but they either stop functioning or come back with stuff that looks like this.”

“sounds like a job for not us,” you say flatly, tugging down your sweater sleeve, “woonhak barely has any field experience. send someone who can, like, punch the weird mist away.”

“we’ve tried,” sakura’s expression is grim, “lily attempted to enter telepathically. she said the emotional landscape inside is too incomprehensible, too chaotic and layered. everyone who’s tried to enter physically has been turned back within minutes, disoriented.”

“so naturally you’ll send in the reserve member and the rookie,” you nod, “makes total sense.”

“we want to send in the adaptive power manifester and his emotional interpreter,” sungho corrects, “[y/n], if the mist is responding to emotional states, as lily’s analysis suffests - you’re our best chance at understanding it, and woonhak’s power will adapt to need. inside the mist ,he might manifest exactly what you need to navigate it.”

woonhak is vibrating with barely contained energy. he’s jumping on his heels when he responds; “we can do this. we’ve been training. i’m so much better than i was -”

“- three weeks ago you could barely hold a power for thirty seconds,” you interrupt.

“and now i can hold one for five minutes! that’s a thousand percent improvement!”

“that’s not how percentages work.”

“what i mean is - we’re ready! put me in, coach!” woonhak stares pleadingly at you. you look at him, then at sakura, then at sungho - both of whom are strangely very calm about this situation, or maybe woonhak’s excitement is so overwhelming to your senses that everything else seems baseline and normal. you stare at the video on the tablet - thick smog churns and swirls like it’s alive - and waiting.

“what about the people inside? the 3000 residents?”

“we don’t know,” sungho admits, “no response when we tried to make contact. but we need to assume they’re trapped and need help.”

“you want to do good, right?” you turn to woonhak and he nods furiously, “are you sure you’re ready?”

“i am!” he insists, “you said all i need is determination! and - and i’m determined!”

you’re quiet for a long time. three week ago you would’ve said no immediately. found an excuse to pack up your bags and go back to normal life again. said you couldn’t use your powers properly anymore. even though you could. what were you scared of? yourself? the pain of others? you play with a loose thread from your sleeve. you could turn away - sakura and sungho couldn’t force you into doing something you didn’t want to.

woonhak’s hand find yours, clasping around your fingers gingerly again, like he’s too scared to actually commit to holding your hand and settled for the next best thing.

“it’s time to be brave, [y/n],” he says quietly, soft enough only you can hear.

you’ve gotten soft.

“if i die in weird mist,” you say finally, “i’m gonna be so annoyed.”

woonhak’s face lights up like bright red lights on a christmas tree, “is that a yes?”

“and for the record, i never said determination is the only thing you need. it’s just something you need.”

you say gruffly, slapping your water bottle into his chest, “when do we leave?”

“two hours,” sakura says, a relieved smile breaking over her face, “we’ll brief you on everything we know right now on the flight.”

“not much, i suppose,” you grumble, “fantastic. great. love this for me.”

you look at woonhak, “go get your gear. and maybe do some breathing and meditation exercises. your excitement is going to make me throw up.”

woonhak rushes out, stilling grinning like an idiot and clutching your water bottle, leaving you alone with sakura and sungho.

“he trusts you,” sakura observes.

“well, yeah. he’s an idiot,” you swipe your training equipment off the floor.

“no,” sungho says, with a far too serious tone than the situation called for, “he’s someone who finally found someone who understands him. that’s not stupidity, that’s hope.”

for once, you don’t have a response.

woonhak’s leg bounces with nervous energy as he sits next to you in the small cockpit in the x-jet. your hand shoots out to settle on his knee, forcing him to still.

“you’re going to burn yourself out if you spend all your energy worrying about something,” you say, “do the breathing exercises i taught you.”

“okay,” woonhak says, somewhat breathless, he sucks in a deep breath and closes his eyes as he exhales with the force of a rocket taking off into space.

“now listen while i go over the protocols,” you pull out a notebook from your suit - you haven’t worn it in years, and it’s just as uncomfortable as before.

“we have protocols?”

“we have now,” you huff, “i made them up on the way to the jet.”

“one. stay within ten meters of me at all times. i am squishy and also i need to be close to read what’s happening.”

“copy.”

“two. when i say do something, you do it immediately. do not second guess me. we worked on this in training but it’s real now.”

woonhak lets out a particularly loud exhale, “i understand.”

“three. if at any point you feel like your powers are not under your control or if i am in distress, you pull us out. it doesn’t matter if the mission isn’t complete. you get us out.”

“but -”

“no buts. i’m serious, woonhak. i know how much you want to help, but if i’m compromised, i can’t help you, which means you’re like a blind rat in a maze full of cheese. you’ll be disoriented and flying solo in a place that literally doesn’t follow physics. that’s how people and rats die.”

he’s quiet for a moment, his emotions dulling from a bubbling excitement to something more somber.

“okay. rule three. if you’re in trouble, we extract.”

“good,” you snap your notebook shut, “now let’s lay out what we do know. the mist appeared suddenly, two days ago. no warning or building. that suggests -”

“a trigger event,” woonhak interrupts, “something happened that caused it.”

“glad you’ve been paying attention. pop quiz - since lily said the emotional landscape is chaotic and layered, this implies -”

“multiple sources? one really confused source?” woonhak scrunches up his nose in confusion.

“trick question. could be either,” you tap your pen against the cover of your notebook, “the fact that space and logic breaks down inside suggests reality manipulation - or something like that. perception alteration. your powers might adapt to counter, or they might get weird because rules don’t function the same in there.”

“weird?”

“yeah - code for ‘i don’t know’.”

woonhak laughs, “three weeks ago i would have been terrified to do this. but now? i mean, i'm still scared, but i also feel like... like maybe we can actually handle it?"

you glances at him. his emotions are steadier than you’ve ever felt them - still anxious, but grounded and determined.

"we will handle it," you say, steady and convincing, “you’re gotten better at control, and i’ve gotten better at reading you specifically. we’re functional.”

“functional,” woonhak repeats, grinning - all of his teeth showing, “you believe in me.”

“of course i do,” you snort, “if i didn’t - i wouldn’t have come here.”

“you complimented me.”

“don’t make me regret it,” you cross your arms.

“too late. it’s imbedded in my brain forever,” woonhak sits back in his chair with a grin that makes him look like a kid who got into the candy jar.

sungho clears his throat awkwardly from his co-pilot seat, “we’re approaching. town to your two o’clock. you should be able to see the mist in about thirty seconds.”

woonhak’s eyelids fly open as he presses his face into the window, you settle for a peek that doesn’t scream eager and desperate.

the mist rises like a wall, perfectly vertical and straight. it stretches as far as the eye can see in either direction. it’s churns and drifts between white and gray, other colours swirling through it that definitely makes it not normal fog. 

“oh,” woonhak says quietly, “that doesn’t look normal.”

no shit.

you extend your awareness carefully, trying to grasp some of the emotional signatures pinging off the fog.

pain, confusion, fear, loneliness. all twisted together in a horrible stew that makes her head spin just by touching the edge of it.

“someone’s hurting,” you supply.

“who?”

“won’t know until we find out,” you look sideway at woonhak, “are you sure you’re ready for this?”

he takes a deep breath, then nods, “ready.”

sakura sets the jet down in a clearing about a hundred meters from the mist wall. as you disembark, you can feel the discord from even there - dancing like static on your skin and a pressure in your ears.

sungho hands you both a small disc, “stay in contact. this is a tracking device. if it stops moving or loses signal, we’re coming in after you.”

“with what?” you stare at it with an eyebrow raised as woonhak attaches to his wrist, “you said drones don’t work, and everyone who tried got turned around.”

“we’ll try harder,” sungho says seriously, “be careful. trust each other. don’t die.”

woonhak salutes, which is dorky but somehow appropriate. you just nod.

they approach the mist together, the air growing warmer as they step closer. you can feel woonhak’s anxiety spike in real time - a blood rushing through your ears suddenly - his powers start pinging in response.

“hey,” you say quietly, just before the wall, “look at me.”

woonhak turns.

“you’ve got this - we got this,” you try to keep your voice as steady as you can - because in a duo mission, one person freaking out is the limit, “you trust me to read you, i trust you to manifest what we need. that’s the deal, right?”

“right,” his voice is steadier than his emotions.

“then let’s go find out what is making this mist and stop it.”

you offer him your hand, and after only a moment’s hesitation, he takes it.

together, you step into the mist.

and everything goes sideways.

your stomach flips, like the world’s most dangerous rollercoaster. once that settles the first thing you notice is the noise. each footstep you take returns three echoes, one from your feet, one to your side, and one echoes from faraway, like it didn’t come from you but another person, far far away. woonhak’s breathing is inside your head. in the unexplainable and illogical, woonhak’s hand in your’s seems like the only real thing in this world.

"okay,” you say, your voice rippling out like skipping a stone across water, "this is strange.”

"[y/n],” woonhak says, his voice tight, "i - i can see buildings. but they’re not right. one’s - one’s turned upside down, and the building that was on our right is now on the left, but we didn’t move.”

you look. he’s right - the pink building that was on your right hand side has suddenly plopped itself onto your left, in between the upside house and the house that’s l shaped. you’re pretty sure the yellow house wasn’t there either.

"architecture playing musical chairs,” you mumble, "how wonderful.”

"what - what should we do?” woonhak loses all the confidence he has before, leaving only nervousness.

you squeeze his hand, "power check?”

woonhak shuts his eyes, "feels kinda dizzy.”

dizzy. you shift through woonhak’s feelings. peeling back a layer of nervousness and a tinge of panic, you find an intense curiosity.

“spatial manipulation? does your hands feel tingly?”

woonhak shakes his head, “no, not like last time. it feels more like a humming under my fingers.”

“time related, then. chronokinesis, i’m thinking something like psychometry.”

“that’s a big word,” woonhak laughs nervously. the chuckle echoes back at him through the mist a few seconds later and the both of you jump.

“you’ll be able to see the historical memories of objects,” you touch the lamp post that suddenly sprouts up from the ground next to your feet, “you should try it - like, before it disappears.”

woonhak slaps his free hand against the cold metal and winces, but his eyes instinctively shut. you feel his emotions dip out of your awareness, like his existence isn’t completely on the same reality as your’s. it’s suddenly quiet. you’ve been connected to him for three weeks now, and the sudden feeling of emptiness leaves you cold and nervous.

“woonhak?” you try, and he gasps as his eyes fly back open and he folds onto himself like he has a horrible tummy ache.

“did you see anything?” you prompt as his emotions - loud as ever, flood back into you through your hands - panic, disbelief, disorientation. it makes the world in front of you spin for a moment - or maybe it actually has, seeing that the lamp post has completely disappeared out of view after woonhak pulled his hand off it.

“yeah,” woonhak looks winded, “i saw… things.”

you sigh. it sounds like a trumpet blaring.

“did you see where the mist came from?”

“oh, yeah,” woonhak finally straightens up - maybe the trumpet reignited the marching band kid in him, “that way.”

he gestures towards a thick wall of mist.

you gulp. for once, you don’t know what will happen and where you’ll end up.

“lead the way, then,” you try to sound confident, but woonhak squeezes your hand like he’s trying to remind you he’s right here, next to you.

he starts walking, still holding your hand, and follows. you walk toward the wall of mist, and just when you’re sure they're going to hit something solid, the mist parts and you’re on a street that shouldn't exist.

there’s people here. 

but they’re frozen mid-motion, like a video that someone hit pause on. there’s a kid jumping off a curb, a woman reaching for a car door, a man with the trash bag he was throwing out suspended in mid-air, and an elderly man watering a potted plant that has spiraled impossibly through the air.

“are they,” woonhak swallows, “alive?”

you extend your powers out cautiously.

“they are,” you gestured to the woman by her car, “she’s anxious about being late for something, but it’s looping - like, like a broken stereo.”

woonhak winces, “that sounds like it sucks.”

“yeah,” your head is starting to pound - there’s too many emotions, too many people, too much of one thing is never good, there’s at least a dozen knots of emotions on this block alone.

“we should move. the sooner we find the center, the better.”

you walk through the frozen town, the pavement twisting right before your eyes, and woonhak’s power shifts.

you feel it like a key turning in a lock - the psychometry fading and being replaced by something else. this one is more obvious - it hits you harder. your eyes water as your vision blurs.

“enhanced vision,” you say through gritted teeth, trying to blink away the sensation, “can you see the pattern of the mist? signals?”

“there’s a path,” woonhak says, wonder tinges his voice despite the hellscape, “like - like a river. if we follow it upstream -”

“we’ll find the source,” you finish, “let’s go.”

you move faster now, woonhak pulling you along the invisible current only he can see. his power shifts again and this time it makes your muscles vibrate at the wrong frequency. his urgency is palpable - it singes like friction. enhanced speed? teleportation? time dilation? whatever it is, you’re covering ground faster than you should be able to.

the frozen people dot the path. they become more frequent, popping up like weeds that refuse to go away. a bunch of kids mid tumble, a couple whose fingers just about graze each other, a dog suspended mid bark. 

then you turn the corner and find the town square. there’s a foundation with water that’s frozen but still flowing - huddled up near it, a girl, with mist pouring off her.

she can’t be more than fourteen. her eyes are closed and her face is peaceful despite the chaos that surrounds her. the mist swirls around her, curling up her legs and weaving inbetween the strands of her hair. you can feel the wisps trouch you - and its like emotion made visible, friend and confusion and fear and loneliness spiralling outwards in waves.

“found her,” woonhak breathes.

you extend your powers towards the girl and immediately regret it.

the emotional impact is like being hit by a truck - hell, actually being hit by a truck would probably hurt less. you feel the pain cut through your flesh like a knife and it worms into your bones - deep and absolute. death in the family? you vaguely wonder. recent - someone she loved more than anything. it broke her and her mutation activated in her grief - stopping time like all of us wished we could.

“[y/n]?” woonhak's voice sounds far away, “[y/n], you’re shaking.”

you realise it when he says it, your entire body trembling from the force of the emotions that latched onto you. it’s too much, your head screams, you’ll overload your brain and explode. it’s too raw and too -

woonhak’s power shifts again, but this time it feels gentle and soothing, like you were suddenly slathered in a thick layer of aloe vera gel.

it dampens the overwhelming input of emotions just enough so you can breath. emotional buffer? psychic shielding? you gulp down air and focus on the feeling of your hand in his - whatever his power is, it’s grounding you so you don’t turn into a pile of emotional slop. 

“i’m good,” you gasp out.

“what do we do?” woonhak asks, worry etched into his brow, “should we wake her up?”

“can’t. not too suddenly,” you force yourself to think through the pain, to recalibrate, “could make it worse. her mutation is reality manipulation, i think, emotion - shit. she’s trapped in her grief, mist is a physical manifestation.”

“so what? do we just - leave her?”

“no -” you look at the girl, at the mist pouring out from her, “we need to go in.”

“in… in her brain?”

“her emotional space,” you force out over the pain that’s building again, “i need you manifest something - something useful. if we connect our powers i might be able to create a bridge into her consciousness.”

“that sounds dangerous.”

“it is.”

“is it the only way?” 

“i can’t think of any other way that’s quicker,” you offer.

woonhak frowns, “and what if we fail?”

“then we’re stuck in weird mist town forever, and i fail my midterms,” you try for humour, but your voice cracks on the word fail, “woonhak. i can feel what she’s feeling. she doesn’t want this but her mutation kicked in instinctively - it’s protecting her but its trapping everyone else. we have to help her.”

woonhak is quiet for a moment, his emotions cycling through fear and uncertainty and then settling on determination - growing by the minute.

“okay,” he says, taking both of your hands, “tell me what to do.”

“i need you to trust me. no hesitation or doubt. your powers respond to emotional need - i’ll try to extend it towards her’s.”

“i’m nervous,” he admits, his teeth catching his bottom lip.

“i know. but i’ll here, i’ll guide you through it,” you squeeze his hand, “i won’t let you get lost in there.”

his eyes meet your’s, and for a moment, there's nothing but trust between them. pure, absolute trust.

"okay," he says softly. "let's do it."

you close you eyes and extend your awareness towards woonhak. you feel his emotions like it’s your’s - determination, fear, hope… you feel his power stirring, responding to his desperate desire to help, to connect, to understand.

the power blooms under your hand like a flower. it’s not flashy or obvious, but subtle, intimate. a psychic bridge forms between you two and you gently nudge it towards the girl. woonhak’s consciousness slips in and out of your’s, beside you. you feel the moment the both of you reach the edge of the girl’s mindscape and -

you fall in.

“i want to barf.”

woonhak’s voice echoes and it makes you even more nauseous. you hold your breath until you can get your bearings, and breathe out once you do.

“not right now,” you shake your head, “i don’t know the effects of psychic vomit.”

you look around you - you’re standing in what looks like a living room that’s fractured. the furniture exists in multiple states at once - a couch which is pristine but covered in dust and scratched up on the other end. the coffee table switches between intact and shattered, a cracking sound accompanying it everytime it glitches. the frames on the wall show smiling faces that disappear the longer you look at it. 

but, god, the space is alight with emotions, like a fire tearing through the room.

you can barely stand under the weight of them. every surface is slick with grief, every object screams loss. woonhak makes a pained sound next to you, he can feel it too - through your connection.

“stay with me,” you say, though you weren’t sure to him or to your soul that’s threatening to drift away any moment, “we have to find her.”

you slowly move through the living room - a feat that is harder than twenty rounds of sungho’s training regiment. it’s a house - you realise, a house that radiates grief and absorbs sadness, a collection of items that scream despair. you push open a door to another room - it’s the same. every room exists in multiple states, caught between before & after, unable to move forward but also impossible to return to what once was.

“[y/n],” woonhak says, his voice strained. you look at him and his face is screwed up in hurt and worry, “your nose is bleeding.”

you touch your face and your fingers come away stained red. the strain of being this deep in someone else’s emotional space while also channeling woonhak’s manifested power is taking a toll.

“it’s okay,” you lie.

“it’s not,” woonhak stops walking, turning to face you, “this is too much. we should -”

“we need to keep going. the people outside are trapped. she’s trapped. we’re really close, woonhak. come on.”

his face projects conflict - caught between concern and his need to help the girl. you feel his power shift again.

this time, you feel strength flood into your limbs - endurance of some kind. his subconscious is trying to help you - give you what he thinks you need to continue.

“thank you,” you breathe, and woonhak just wipes the blood off your face with his sleeve.

you climb the stairs together and stall at the door at the top. unlike everything else in the house, the door is real - solid, unchanging.

behind it, you can taste the bitterness of concentrated grief.

“she’s in there,” you say, trying your best not to let nervousness bleed into your words, “behind that door is where she’s hiding from her own pain.”

woonhak reaches for the doorknob and hesitates, “what should we say to her?”

“i - i don’t know,” you admit, “let’s just be honest - we’re not here to fix her… just talk to her.”

“okay,” woonhak nods, “when all else fails, try honesty.”

he pushes open the door.

inside is a bedroom - there’s posters on the wall and books on the shelves and a desk covered in textbooks and homework. sitting on the bed, knees pulled to her chest, is the girl from the town square.

but this time, she’s wide awake, and crying.

“go away,” she says thickly, “this isn’t real.”

“we’re real,” you step forward, slowly, “we’re here to help you.”

“i don’t need help, i need -” her voice breaks, “i need my mom.”

the words chokes you, her grief becomes clearer. mother died - suddenly, recently. mutation activated in response to grief and pain. 

“i’m sorry,” you say, and you mean it, “i’m so sorry you lost your mom.”

the girl finally looks up, her eyes red, “you don’t understand anything.”

“no,” you agree, “i don’t understand, not completely - but my powers let me feel what other people feel. i can feel you’re sad, and that you loved her so much.”

the girl’s face crumples, “it hurts. it won’t stop hurting.”

woonhak moves forwardly, slowly, inching closer to the girl, “i know what it feels like - to have emotions that feel too big for your body. like they might tear you up and eat you alive.”

“you do?” she looks up.

“yeah,” he nods, “my powers - they’re super random, manifests based on what i’m feeling. i couldn’t control it at all in the beginning. everything i felt suddenly was dangerous - chaotic. i wished i’d stop feeling things, at one point, because i didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

“does it ever go away? this feeling?”

“it gets better,” he gently says, “it’s hard but it gets easier to control.”

the girl is quiet for a long moment.

"i didn't mean to do this. to trap everyone. i just - when mom died, i felt like the whole world should stop. like nothing should keep moving when she's gone. and then my power activated and-" she gestures helplessly, "and now it won't stop."

"because you won't let it," you say gently, "your power is responding to what you need - like, you need everything to stop because moving forward feels like leaving her behind."

"isn't it?" the girl's voice is small. "if i let go, if i move on, doesn't that mean i'm forgetting her?"

you move closer, until you’re standing at the edge of the bed. you’re sure you look like a mess with blood running down your face - you can taste the copper on your tongue and your head is pounding like the world’s loudest rock concert.

“moving forward doesn’t mean forgetting,” you say, “it means carrying her with you instead of being buried by losing her. i know it sounds hard, and i know it feels like the pain might never end. but we have to be brave now - we can’t let this drown you, and everyone else.”

the girl looks around the room, at the fractured house beyond the door, "i don't know how to let go."

"that's okay," woonhak says, "nobody really does. but you don't have to know how. you just have to want to. and we'll help you."

"how?"

you extend your hand, "by feeling what you're feeling, and showing you that you can survive it. that's what i do - i translate emotions, i help people understand what they're experiencing. and right now, you're experiencing grief. real, terrible, overwhelming grief. but you're also experiencing love. so much love for your mom. and that love doesn't go away just because she did. you can remember her - but it doesn’t have to be painful."

the girl stares at your hand for a long moment.

then, slowly, she reaches out and takes it.

the moment your fingers connects, you feel everything.

grief hits you like a tidal wave. quite literally. you feel like you’re drowning, like water is filling your lungs and you’re being pulled under a wave that’s too strong to fight. her pain is everywhere, in everything, an unhealable wound.

you struggle to breath. as you start doing your own breathing exercises you can feel her overwhelming grief - and under that, even more overwhelming love. it’s blinding and heavy and unexplainable. memories of her mother flood your brain, it sounds like laughter and feels like safety. it tangles into grief - inseparable, because you can’t have one without the other.

“it’s not just pain,” you rush out, “do you feel it? love?”

the girl is crying harder, but she nods, “i forgot. it hurt too much.”

“that’s grief,” you can barely hear yourself over the thunder in your ears, “grief is love, your love has always been there.”

woonhak moves closer, pressing his shoulder against your’s. you can feel his power activating again, dully, it feels like emphatic healing or something - you can’t think straight, but it’s flowing through your connection to the girl, stabilising.

“your mom loved you,” woonhak says softly, “your grief - it’s your love persevering. its all the love you never got to tell her.”

the girl’s grip on your arm tightens, “but the town - the people. i trapped them because i -”

“they’ll understand,” you say, “you didn’t mean to hurt anyone. your power was just trying to protect you. but now you can let them go. you can let yourself move forward.”

“i’m scared,” she whispers, “what if i forget her? what if moving on means she’s really gone?”

you think about how you spent years trying not to feel too much of anything, put up a wall between your normal world and the world you left behind. then you think about your past three weeks with woonhak. how you tried to not care. how that failed spectacularly because you couldn’t help but fall in anyways. how you started to care - for god’s sake.

“you won’t forget her,” you say, “i promise you won’t. emotions like love and care never goes away.”

the girl takes a shuddering breath. then another. and slowly, gradually, you feel the grip of the grief starting to loosen. not disappearing, but no longer drowning.

"okay," the girl says, "okay. i'll try."

"that's all you need to do," you said, "just try."

the girl closes her eyes, and you feel her reaching for her power. it releases like an exhale - the fractured house around them starts to solidifying and the mist starts to thin. woonhak squeezes your hand in careful excitement.

and then you start feeling something shift wrong inside your own body.

the strain is catching up to you. holding woonhak’s power and emotions that made an entire town freeze in time. you realise in horror that blood is dripping onto the bedsheets and you can taste iron in the back of your throat. you cough - once, twice, and your vision drifts in between black and blurry.

“[y/n]?” woonhak’s voice echoes in your brain and is muffled like he’s underwater, “your nose!”

you can’t find the strength to respond. you hold the girl’s hand tighter - you can’t severe the connection now, not at this moment. you need to help her find her way back.

you register the faint chirping of birds, and everything goes white.

you’re on the beach. there’s a pineapple drink with a blue umbrella. you pick it up and it’s delightfully chilly. the sun is beaming - literally, it feels like heaven on earth.

“[y/n]! come on - please, [y/n]!”

someone is calling your name. you peer over your sunglasses around the sandy beach but there’s no hot beach boy calling for your attention. you settle back into your beach towel.

“[y/n]!”

someone shakes you and you gasp as your beach dissipates like a popped bubble. 

“w - what?”

the sky above you is clear - no mist, no fractured reality, just a normal sky with normal clouds.

“[y/n],” someone curses under their breath as their hand slaps your cheek gently, “over here.”

“ugh,” your head pounds as woonhak’s face swallows the blue of the sky - he looks terrified.

“please tell me it worked,” you croak.

“you literally stopped breathing for at least a minute,” his voice is rough and wild, “i thought you died on me!”

“woonhak,” you touch his arm, “answer the damn question.”

he sits back on his heels, looks around at the normal town with normal cars and normal plants, “yeah. yeah - it worked. the mist is gone, people are unfrozen. the girl - her name’s ellie. she’s okay, just disoriented.”

“good.”

you try to sit up and immediately regret it. the world spins violently. woonhak lets out a worried squeak when you flop back against the concrete - “okay, maybe i’ll just stay down here for a bit. i did die for a minute.”

woonhak’s face scrunches up like he’s about to cry, “the x-jet is coming. sungho’s coming with medical.”

his hands hover over you, like he wants to help and doesn’t know how, “you scared me. like, really, really scared me.”

“sorry,” you close your eyes - maybe that will help with the spinning, “occupational hazard.”

“don’t - don’t say that. you - you were convulsing, your body shutting down from the strain, hell - you stopped breathing for a really, really long time! i could feel it - but i couldn’t stop it. i - i didn’t know how to.”

“you’re being overdramatic,” you force your eyes open again, finding his face, “it was just a minute - not a really, really long time. besides. you did help. your powers - you were manifesting exactly what i needed. if you hadn’t been there, i wouldn’t have made it that deep.”

"if i hadn't been there, you wouldn't have been hurt! the only reason you had to push yourself that hard is because you were connected to me and my chaotic powers while also dealing with ellie’s emotions."

"woonhak -"

"no."

his voice is firm in a way you’ve never heard before.

"no, you don't get to do that. you don't get to act like you being hurt is just part of the job. every time my power shifts, it hurts you. and today it literally - " he stops, voice breaking. "it literally killed you."

you’re quiet for a moment, processing his outburst. you can feel his emotions even now, even though you’re barely holding onto consciousness - you can taste the fear, the guilt, the desperate need to protect you, even from himself.

“hey,” you say softly, “look at me.”

he does, and he sniffles, his eyes wet.

“it’s not your fault. i chose to go that deep. i chose to hold the connection. that girl needed help, and we’re the only ones who could help her. you get it - right? you said you wanted to help people.”

“not if it means you die!”

“i didn’t die,” you hold up a finger, “okay, i technically did. but i’m alive again - so it’s not that bad.”

“you’re trying to be funny,” he frowns.

“listen, i’m just stating the facts here.”

“[y/n] -”

“woonhak,” you interrupt, “when i agreed to this whole arrangement, i knew this was a possibility. your powers could push me to my limits. but in the end, i think it was worth it. you’re worth it.”

he stares at you, “what?”

“don’t make me repeat it,” you grumble, “i am very injured and it was embarrassing enough the first time.”

but you let a slight smile ghost over your face, “you’re worth it, woonhak. these past three weeks, watching you grow, seeing you learn to trust yourself - it's been worth every headache and nosebleed and death - well, one death.”

“i don’t -” he stops, swallowing hard, “i don’t know what to say.”

“you don’t have to say anything,” you throw an arm over your eyes, “just keep manifesting those healing abilities. i might pass out again.”

as if on cue, you feel his powers shift. a familiar, gentle energy washes over you, numbing the worst of the pain. it smells like a garden after rain. he's getting better at manifesting specific powers when he needs them. the control they've been working on is paying off.

“see?” you murmur, “we’re a good team.”

"the best," he says, and there's something in his voice - something warm and soft and impossibly fond - that makes your heart do a complicated flip that has nothing to do with the strain of the mission.

fuck, you thinks distantly. when did that happen?

but you don’t have enough time to think about it too deeply because the x-jet is landing nearby and sungho is running towards you with a medical kit and suddenly there are people everywhere checking and prodding and asking questions you’re too tired to answer.

through it all, woonhak doesn’t let go of your hand. you realised he’s never let go since you two stepped into the mist hours ago.

and, well, you didn’t let go of his.

the bed is comfy, and you’ve managed to bribe sungho into installing blackout curtains. you’ve been in the hospital wing for two days, recovering from what has been clinically described as "severe neurological strain from prolonged psychic bridging while experiencing secondary power manifestation feedback”.

you just called it “pulling an empathetic hamstring and now everything hurts”.

you’re sitting up in bed, shifting through your biochem notes because your exam is in three days and extenuating circumstances doesn’t cover ‘injured because of mindscape deep dive’. your head still pounds if you concentrate too hard, and you’re not allowed to actively use your powers for at least a week, but at least you’re not a permenant stain on the street of millbrook.

there’s a knock on the door.

“come in!” you yell, expecting sungho with more medication.

instead, it’s woonhak. he hovers by the door, a cup of coffee and a bag of pastries and a face of uncertainty in tow.

“hey,” he says, “is this a good time?”

"is any time a good time when you're stuck in a hospital bed?" you jest, "get in here."

he enters, setting the coffee and pastries on your bedside table, “i got it the way you like it, and the cookies you always order.”

“you remembered!”

“i watched you order it, like, fifty times.”

he sits down in the chair besides your bed, and passively you can still feel his emotions seeping out of him - concern, relief, and something else.

“how are you feeling?”

“better than yesterday,” you reach for the coffee and take a grateful sip, “god, that’s good. i swear, the mansion coffee is actively trying to make me worse.”

“okay,” woonhak laughs, “no mansion coffee.”

the room is quiet for a moment, the comfortable kind of quiet you’ve developed over weeks of training together.

“i talked to ellie,” woonhak says finally, “says she wants to say thank you and sorry, and she’s in therapy now.”

“oh, good. that’s good,” you set down your coffee, “and the people?”

“better, still processing, but no one was hurt. just confused and scared,” he pauses, “she asked if she could come say thank you in person - when you’re better.”

"she doesn't need to thank me. we were just doing our job."

"see, that's what i keep saying! but everyone keeps insisting what we did was extraordinary." 

he grins, but it fades quickly. "i've been thinking."

"uh oh. that's dangerous."

"i'm serious." he leans forward, elbows on his knees. "i've been thinking about what you said. about how working with me pushes you to your limits. and i don't - i don't want to be the reason you get hurt."

you raise an eyebrow. you know where this is going.

"woonhak -"

"let me finish." he takes a breath. "i talked to sungho. and i just - just wanted to let you know that if you don’t want to work with me anymore it’s okay."

he fiddles with his fingers.

“no, it’s okay,” you say simply.

“what?” he blinks, “you - you aren’t going to go away? but - but you literally died and -”

“and i’d die again,” you interrupt, “pop quiz! do you know why?”

“because you’re really stubborn.”

“no, dumbass,” you sit up straighter, “because you’re worth it.”

you hold his gaze, “i said it on the field - and i can’t believe you’re making me say it again, but i meant it. yes - working with you is hard, but woonhak - seeing you go from someone who couldn't hold a power for thirty seconds to someone who can manifest healing abilities to save people? that's not something i want to give up."

“even if it hurts you?”

“i told you -” you take his hand, “i’m being brave. i don’t want to live in constant fear of what i can or can’t do anymore, and how am i supposed to do that if i keep doing what makes me comfortable?”

“are you sure?”

“yes. a thousand percent,” you squeeze his hand, “you might drag me into weird mist towns to save people, but i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

woonhak’s emotions wash over you - relief and delight and something deeper - something that makes your pulse quicken.

"you really want to keep working with me?" he asks quietly.

"yes - i want to keep working with you. and i like you. as a partner. as a... friend."

the word friend sounds weird on your tongue. you don’t really want to dissect why just yet.

woonhak's face breaks into that bright, genuine smile - the one where his eyes disappear and his teeth show. 

“i like you too, even when you’re grumpy and sarcastic and pretend you don’t care about things.”

“harsh, but okay,” you roll your eyes and he laughs. 

“so,” he fiddles with your fingers, carefully, “if you're willing to keep putting up with me and my chaos, i promise i'll do everything i can to keep my powers from hurting you. i'll train harder, focus better, manifest that healing ability more consistently -"

"woonhak."

"- and i'll carry extra tissues if you have nosebleeds again, and i'll make sure we always have coffee that won’t kill you nearby, and -"

"woonhak."

he stops, looking at you.

"you're rambling," you say softly.

"i ramble when i'm nervous."

"why are you nervous?"

he's quiet for a moment, his emotions swirling. "because i almost really lost you. and i realized that somewhere in the past three weeks, you became really important to me. and i don't know what to do with that."

your heart is doing that complicated flip thing again, and this time you can't blame it on coming back from the dead.

"you became important to me too," you admit, "which is inconvenient, because i was trying very hard not to get attached."

"how's that working out?"

"bad."

you both laugh, and the tension breaks slightly.

"so," woonhak says, "partners? still?"

"partners," you confirm, "but i have conditions."

"of course you do."

"one: you have to stop asking if i'm okay every five seconds. i'll tell you if i'm not okay."

"copy that."

"two: you have to actually study the emotional manifestation triggers i wrote up for you instead of just saying you'll memorise them later."

"ugh, fine."

“three: you have to deal with my grumpiness in the mornings, because i hate getting up.”

“got it,” he nods, “i’ll get used to it”

you're both smiling now, hands still linked. 

"when you’re better… would you take me to the coffee shop?”

he scratches his cheek.

"like a date?”

embarrassment washes over him, "y - yeah. something like that.”

"hmm,” you tap your chin, "i think i can fit you into my schedule.”

"really? you can?!”

"i’m a very busy woman, woonhak. i don’t do this for just anyone.”

"i know,” he grins, "but i’m not just anyone, right?”

"no, you’re just someone very special to me. that’s all.”

♡ or ↻ if you enjoyed, support your writers, thank you!! what did you think? drop your thoughts in my inbox!

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

you’re studying the boy’s face when he suddenly stirs. “look, joshua!” you tug on his arm, “he’s waking up!” “wow, his eyes really are pretty!” you lean forward when his eyes slide open and the boy cringes at your volume, pushing himself as far back into the pillow as much as he can. “personal space, [y/n],” joshua grabs you by the back of your collar and drags you away from him. “this is my place, you’re safe here,” joshua offers to the boy as you shake yourself out of his grip and pouts. the boy sits up immediately, pressing himself into the corner like a scared puppy. “joshua hong? you - you brought me here? are you insane?” the boy yells, his voice echoing around the guest room, “do you know what you have done?”

“hey! show some respect!” you slam a pillow against the boy’s shoulders and he winces, “for someone who’s so beat up, you sure are loud!”

“wha -” he looks at you with wild, wide eyes, “who the heck is this?”

“it’s my younger sister,” joshua places a hand on your head and pushes you back down to sit, “i told you i had a sister around your age, didn’t i?”

“i’m [y/n],” you hold out a hand before joshua can embarrass you anymore, “what’s your name?”

the boy just regards you warily, his eyes narrowing.

“c’mon kid, we’ll be looking after you now. you should tell us,” joshua picks up the blanket you unceremoniously pushed to the floor and gently pulls it up the boy’s shoulder.

“yeah! it isn’t fair that you know my name and i don’t know yours!” you huff.

the boy looks between you and joshua, mouth open and closing with a general air of incredulousness, “i -”

he hesitates, closing his eyes in frustration.

“my name is donghyun,” he finally lets out, his brown eyes opening slowly to warily look at the both of you.

“well, donghyun. welcome home.”

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

the next morning, you find donghyun still huddled in the corner of the guest room, knees pulled up to his chest. the bandages on his face have been changed, stark white against his skin.

“morning donghyun!” you say cheerfully, slamming open the door with a plate of toast in your hands, “joshua and i made breakfast! he says you should eat!”

donghyun doesn’t look at you.

you plop down on the bed in front of him anyways, holding out the plate, “this is my favourite. strawberry jam! it’s a little burnt but - but it just adds to the flavour!”

nothing.

“do you like jam? i like ham too. what do you think about peanut butter? joshua says i basically eat anything,” you tilt your head, “what do you like?”

“... nothing.”

it slips out so quietly you almost miss it.

“no - really?” you feel genuinely distressed, “everyone likes something! um - i like toast. and fishing. and when the books joshua reads to me sometimes, even if i don’t understand half of the words. oh, and birds - and - and…”

you pause, “what were we talking about again?”

something flickers across donghyun’s face as you snap your fingers, finally remembering what exactly you were talking about before the ramble.

“right - things you like!” you set down the plate of toast on the bedside table, “well, you don’t have to like anything yet, but maybe we’ll find something while you’re here!”

you jump up from the bed, “i’ll come back tomorrow, okay? we can not-talk again if you want.”

as you reach the door, you hear it - barely a whisper.

“... thank you.”

you turn back around so fast it gives you whiplash. you grin at him, but donghyun is staring at the sheets, a faint pink dusting his cheeks.

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

two weeks later, you find donghyun in the backyard.

he’s up more now, walking around the house, even though he doesn’t talk much still. joshua says he still needs to heal - that being hurt isn’t just about bones and blood.

“whatcha doing?” you plop down next to him in the grass, holding your fishing rod in one hand and bucket in the other.

donghyun doesn’t startle - but joshua says it’s because anyone can hear you from a mile away because you’re like ‘a bull in a china shop’, whatever that means.

“listening,” he replies to you simply.

“to what?”

“the birds.”

you tilt your head, trying to hear what he’s hearing. there’s chirping in the trees, sometimes melodic, most times just high pitched and scattered, completely unintelligible to you.

“i wonder what they’re talking about,” you sigh, cupping your cheeks.

for the first time since he arrived, donghyun’s lips curve into something that resembles a smile.

“they’re just… talking. about food, and nests, and the weather.”

“you can hear what they’re saying?”

he nods slowly, “that’s what i do. i can understand all animals.”

your eyes go wide, “that’s so cool! what else can you do? joshua can make things explode! can you do that too?”

donghyun smile fades, “just that.”

“still, that’s so cool!” you bounce excitedly, “can you talk to dogs? cats? what about fish? oh no - do fish not like me because i keep taking away their friends? oh! can you talk to butterflies? wait, are butterflies animals or bugs? is there a difference? donghyun, what's the difference between animals and bugs?”

“i… i don’t know,” he admits, looking a bit overwhelmed.

“we should ask joshua! no, wait, we should find a butterfly first!” you jump up, grabbing his hand without thinking, “come on!”

donghyun freezes at the contact, and you realise this is the first time you’ve touched him since he arrived. his hand is cold and stiff in yours.

“sorry,” you say, starting to pull away, “i - i should’ve asked -”

but donghyun’s grip tightens, just slightly, “it’s… okay.”

when you look at him, that almost-smile is back.

“let’s go find a butterfly,” he says quietly.

you don’t find any butterflies that day, but you do discover that donghyun can have full conversations with the neighbourhood cats, and that one particularly sassy squirrel that has very strong opinions on the bird feeder.

it’s also the first time you hear donghyun laugh - soft and surprised, like he forgot he could.

you like it.

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

it’s been three months since donghyun arrived. he’s still quiet, but you do enough of the talking that your moments together are never dull.

today, the two of you are lounging in the spring sun. one of donghyun’s dog friends is splayed out on his stomach as he dutifully guards your bait box, listening to the goldfinches in the trees again. you hold onto your rod as you listen to the symphony of the birds and the rush of water going by. 

you yawn as you slowly reel in your line, spinner bobbing up and down in the water as you watch the sun glint in the reflection of the waves. you’ve been here for at least an hour already and not a single fish has bitten. but joshua says that fishing is about the art of waiting - so you’re trying your best to be patient and not wade into the creek to catch fish with your bare hands instead.

you wait, and wait, and wait.

“i got one! i got one!”

the silence breaks as you yell, shooting up on your rock, hands already furiously reeling in your line as it pulls against you, “i think it’s a big one!”

donghyun peers through his hair as you scream excitedly about your catch, animatedly pulling back your fishing rod in tandem with your reeling.

“... you’re going to scare it away,” he quietly says, and you barely manage to catch his voice over the chirping of the goldfinches egging you on and your own exclamations.

“don’t jinx it!” you laugh, leaning forward as the end of your line nears the surface of the water, breaking through with -

“ugh! you jinxed it!” you flop back onto the rock, your hook disappointedly empty with no fish. it hangs limply in the air and you blow out an exaggeratedly loud sigh.

“sorry,” donghyun says, decidedly very not sorry.

“it was the first bite i got in an hour!” you whine, frustratedly casting your bait back out into the creek and settling back on your rock as you wait for it to hit the bottom.

“it’s only been twenty minutes,” donghyun points out.

“wh - whatever! it’s been a very long time,” you puff your cheeks out in annoyance. donghyun just responds with a quiet laugh and lays back again.

you watch the clouds reflected in his brown eyes float by like light passing over still water, and you watch how they scrunch up in amusement when a leaf lands rudely on your hair and you shake it out like a wet dog after rain.

“there you kids are,” joshua eventually appears, ambling up with a drink in his hand.

“joshua! none of the fish are biting!” you complain loudly once he’s in earshot.

“remember, kid, the art of fishing is patience and being quiet,” joshua flips down his sunglasses as he puts down his fold-out chair, “and you are doing none of that.”

you want to say something in retort, but since joshua says that being quiet is the key to fishing, you keep your mouth shut and stare intensely at your rod instead, tugging at intervals to catch the attention of the fish.

joshua nods at donghyun with a mysterious smile, “keeps her quiet and busy for at least two hours. heaven.”

donghyun bites back a smile.

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

six months pass, and donghyun slots into your daily life like he’s always been there.

one afternoon, you find him sitting under the big tree in the backyard, a small bird perched on his finger. he’s humming to it, a few simple notes repeated gently.

“what song is that?” you ask, sitting down beside him.

donghyun tilts his head as his humming stops, “i… don’t know. i just learnt it from somewhere.”

“before joshua found you?”

he nods, his face careful and dusted with sadness, “yeah.”

“[y/n],” he shifts around and turns to you, “do you want to know about me? before this?”

you peer at him curiously, “i mean - yeah. but - but only if you want to! i don’t want to pressure you or anything…”

“really?”

he lets out a quiet, relieved breath at your insistent nodding, “[y/n]. i promise i’ll tell you about it when i’m ready.”

“okay, promise,” you hold out a pinky finger and he looks at it curiously.

“it’s a pinky promise!” you take his free hand and wrap your pinky around his, “if someone breaks the promise, then the other one can break their finger!”

“huh?” donghyun tries to retract his pinky, “but i don’t want to break your finger!”

“it’s just a myth,” you laugh, pulling away, “but you promised, alright? and i’ll wait, even if it takes a thousand years.”

donghyun gives you his almost-smile, “thank you.”

you flop onto your back and fold your arms behind your head. donghyun hums again, patient and soft. the little brown bird chirps hesitantly, trying to mimic the tune.

“are you teaching it to sing?” you ask, somewhat dazed, “but i thought birds already knew how to sing? like they just… do that. like how fish know how to swim! wait - do fish know how to swim or do they have to learn too? donghyun, do fish go to school?”

“i… don’t think fish go to school, [y/n],” there’s a hint of amusement in his voice.

“ugh, i wish i didn’t have to go to school either,” you kick your legs slightly, “so you’re like the birdy’s teacher! man, i could never be a teacher. i can’t even remember what i had for breakfast! … donghyun, what did we have for breakfast?”

“we had cereal,” donghyun says patiently, with a twinge of muffled laughter, “you told me it was too soggy but you ate it all anyway.”

“oh yeah!” you brighten, “see, this is why i need you. you remember things for me.”

donghyun glances at you, and there’s something warm in his eyes that makes your stomach flip in a way you don’t quite understand yet, “i don’t mind.”

“really?”

“really,” he looks back at the bird, “you remember the important things, like all the names of the vendors in town and the kids from the skate park. that’s better than remembering breakfast.”

you sigh loudly and sit up, leaning your head on his shoulder without thinking about it.

“can you help me study for my maths test soon?”

donghyun laughs - softly. it jostles you while you’re on his shoulder and you smile.

“sure, [y/n].”

the bird tries the melody again, getting a few notes right this time.

you both sit there in silence, listening to the bird learn how to sing.

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

“it’s dark and i’m sleepy,” you whisper into joshua’s side as the two of you watch donghyun press his face against the glass of the aquarium.

“stick it out for donghyun, kiddo,” joshua slaps you on your back to wake you up and you cringe, “i’m gonna go check out the sharks, you keep him company. don’t wander off, okay?”

you grumble as joshua walks away, whistling a tune.

“donghyun!” you jump onto him from behind and he grunts under your sudden weight, “what are you looking at?”

“... nothing in particular,” he mumbles, steadying himself on his feet so he can support the both of you.

you survey the tank, tracking a round orange fish with your eyes, “fish really are peaceful, huh?”

“yeah,” he says quietly, “they are.”

“can you talk to them?”

donghyun concentrates, and he gets that faraway look in his eyes that appears whenever he’s conversing with animals.

“yes,” he finally says.

“really? what are they saying?”

“nothing, really. they’re just thinking about food, the temperature, the currents. they’re very… quiet.”

“that sounds nice,” you finally release your grip on him, “your brain is probably pretty loud, huh? with all the animals chattering and stuff.”

donghyun nods slowly, “it is. but when i talked to the fish… it got quieter.”

“do you like it?”

donghyun tilts his head as he thinks about it, “i do.”

you beam at him, “so fish are your favourite! problem solved!”

“i don’t -” he stops, “can fish be someone’s favourite animal?”

“why not? they’re animals! you get to pick whatever you want,” you grab his hand, “come on - i think they have fish tanks over there, too!”

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

age 12

“can we go in?” donghyun asks, stopping suddenly in front of a pet store window.

you’ve been running errands with joshua in town, and normally donghyun never asks to do anything or go anywhere. he just follows along quietly like a sunflower following the sun.

“the pet store?” joshua looks surprised but pleased, “sure. go ahead. i’ll finish up at the hardware store and meet you back here.”

the moment you step inside, donghyun makes a beeline for the back wall.

“woah,” you breathe, slightly intimidated by the rows and rows of tanks filled with different types of grass, rocks, fish, and other organisms you can’t identify.

donghyun is already crouched in front of one, his face as close to the glass as it can be without literally being pressed against it. his breath fans out over the glass holding tiny black and white striped fish.

“these are zebrafish,” the store employee notices his interest and walks over, “they’re very active little fish. they adapt well - good for beginners.”

“those are guppies, right?” donghyun points to another tank, this time carrying fish with large tails.

“they are,” the staff nods and smiles, “are you looking to get an aquarium?”

“i don’t -” donghyun looks uncertain, “i don’t know if i’m allowed.”

you pull away from a staring contest with an iguana in a tank further away and pipe up, “ask joshua! he’ll probably say yes!”

the staff laughs, “well, you’re free to just look around. i’ll be up front if you have any questions.”

he walks away, and for the next twenty minutes or so, donghyun moves from tank to tank. he doesn’t talk, but you can tell he’s communicating with them - his eyes get that distant look they always do when he’s using his powers.

“what are they thinking about?” you say, peering into a tank with round, bright orange fish.

“the goldfish are thinking about food. they’re always thinking about food,” he moves to the next tank, “these are corydoras, they’re pretty easygoing. they’re the most relaxed fish i’ve ever talked to. they don't even care if the other fish come and pick on them.”

“huh, that’s kinda sad though. there’s tank bullies?”

“well, yeah. they’re all fighting for survival, after all.”

the two of you shift to the next tank - full of fish that are suctioned to the wall of the tank. 

“hello all,” donghyun says seriously before peering at the label under the tank, “these are otocinclus - or just otos.”

“they’re kinda ugly,” you observe.

“i like them,” donghyun says immediately, “they have a purpose. they clean algae.”

you study the otos as their mouths work methodically, “i guess that’s pretty cool. like underwater janitors.”

“they’re necessary,” donghyun says quietly, “the whole ecosystem needs them.”

“sorry i called you guys ugly,” you crouch down next to donghyun and place a finger gently on the glass, “they can’t understand me, right? are they offended?”

donghyun shakes his head with a smile on his face.

when joshua finds the two of you, donghyun is still crouched by the otos tank.

“i thought [y/n] would’ve dragged you away to the ice cream stand or something. did you guys see something interesting?” joshua asks.

“could i…” donghyun hesitates, “could i maybe have a fish tank? in my room?”

joshua’s expression softens, “i think that’s fine, kid. which one do you like?”

donghyun looks back at the otos, then at all the other tanks.

“i need to do research first, if i’m going to care for another living being. fish are… they’re important. they need specific conditions to be healthy.”

“that’s very responsible,” joshua says, patting donghyun on the head, “tell you what - we’ll get some books on caring for fish from the library on the way back. when you’re done researching and when you’re ready, we’ll set up a proper tank.”

donghyun’s face lights up in a way you’ve never seen before, “really?”

“really.”

on the walk home, donghyun talks more than you’ve ever heard him talk. he talks about filters, and nitrogen cycles, and pH levels, saltwater and freshwater systems, and what theme he’s going to make his tank. you don’t understand most of it, but you nod along anyway.

“you’re going to be the best fish dad ever,” you declare suddenly.

he laughs - “fish dad?”

“yeah! you’re going to take care of them!”

“mm,” donghyun looks down at his hands, “i guess that does make me a fish dad then.”

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

it takes donghyun around three months to finish his research. he ended up getting himself a bunch of corydoras, otos, rummynose tetras, cherry barbs, and extremely temperamental angel fish.

“how are your babies doing?” you ask, barging into his room one day and flopping onto his bed.

“they’re good. i think i might have to move the angel fish into a new tank, since their vertical fins grow depending on how tall the tank is.”

you watch as donghyun sprinkles food into the tank and tests the water chemistry before recording it in his notebook.

“you really love them, huh?”

he glances over at you over the tank, “i do.”

“that’s good then!”

you watch as he sprinkles more food, taking extra care that that one corydoras who’s ‘a pushover’ gets it’s share.

then, he sits on the floor and simply watches them, you join him on the floor and watch as his tetra fish swim around in synchronisation.

“do you know what fish think about most?” he asks quietly, as the two of you watch a corydoras munch on a piece of fish food.

“food?” you point out.

“besides food,” he smiles slightly, “each other. sometimes i talk to the tetras. they like to be aware of each other, and just swim together, eat together, sleep together… they don’t like being alone.”

“that’s cute,” you say softly.

“it is,” he’s watching his otos now, who are methodically cleaning the glass, “otos don’t really care about not being as pretty as the tetras or that their job is just cleaning. they just do it.”

“sounds kinda like you,” you say, nudging him in the shoulder.

“what?”

“i mean, you’re always cleaning up my messes without complaining, and you take care of everyone so things go smoothly. you’re just like the otos! but you’re prettier - no offense.”

donghyun laughs, “i’ll keep that a secret from them.”

you sit together in the glow of the fish tank, watching his fish drift through their underwater world and listening to the soft bubbling of the filter.

“thank you for helping me get them,” donghyun says eventually, “i know you think they’re boring.”

“they’re not boring! they’re…” you rack your brains for the word, “they’re yours! and anything that makes you happy is interesting to me.”

“and i’m sorry for dragging you out to fish with me,” you say, suddenly very sober, “it must not be very nice.”

donghyun laughs again - “it’s okay. you know, you’re the best friend anyone could ask for.”

you beam, “i know. that’s why you’re stuck with me forever.”

“that sounds nice,” he replies quietly.

for that moment, everything is right in the world, sitting next to your best friend and illuminated by the light of his fish tank.

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

age 13

for the first time since donghyun came - it snowed.

you wrapped a third scarf around donghyun - much to his complaint, before marching him out into the backyard and promptly engaging in the world’s most intense snowball fight. by the time you were done, all three of donghyun’s scarves are on the ground and both of you are heaving in the embers of the streetlamps.

"let’s go inside,” donghyun says after catching his breath, "you’ll catch a cold if you lay in the snow any longer.”

he pulls you up by your arms, the orange glow turning his eyes into something more akin to a warm, caramel brown. his breath fans over your face and stings against the cold of the air.

“don’t wanna!” you whine.

“we can play again tomorrow,” he says, patient as always as he brushes snow off your jacket and picks up his scarves littered across the ground. you shuffle after him into the house with weak protest.

"hot chocolate, kids?” joshua holds up two steaming mugs as the two of you track wet snow into the house. donghyun shakes snow out of his hair as you nod enthusiastically, throwing your gloves away in a hurry and shedding your coat as you bound into the living room.

"what did i say about leaving your stuff around?” joshua pulls the hot chocolate out of your reach just as you jump for it and you groan.

"sorry,” you chorus, turning around and stomping back into the foyer even though donghyun has already dutifully hung up your coat alongside his own near the door.

you make a show of helping donghyun put up one of his three scarves before rounding back around and finally tasting that sweet, sweet hot chocolate.

"ugh, that just warms me right up!” you gulp down your hot chocolate in record speed and elect to splay out on the blanket covered couch with a satisfied sigh afterwards, watching donghyun delicately sip his own hot chocolate while joshua whistles in the kitchen, placing away the plates you used for dinner tonight.

you look at the ceiling and start to list off what you’ll be doing tomorrow with donghyun: ice fishing, sledding, going to see the winter lights in town and -

your internal listing is cut off by the sudden sound of silence. the lights flicker off with an audible sigh and you hear the heater putter before slowing down.

"looks like the power’s out,” joshua sighs, emerging from the kitchen and patting his hands on his apron. his face is dimly illuminated from the silver orb that bobs closely to his head.

"[y/n], donghyun - can you get the spare candles from the shed? i’m gonna go check out the generator downstairs.”

you hear donghyun set down his mug carefully in the dark and reply with an affirmative sound. 

"come on, [y/n],” he says softly, somewhere to your right, "we should take the backdoor. i’ll get your jacket.”

the lights outside are out too, orange streetlamps gone and string lights dark. you huddle closer to donghyun as the winds howl and trees shake louder than they did a few minutes ago.

"it’s kinda dark,” you comment quietly, unconsciously pressing closer to donghyun.

"don’t worry,” his hand somehow finds yours in the dark and gives it a squeeze, "i’m here.”

the two of you brave the winter winds for a total of five minutes as the shed looms in the shadows closer and closer before you.

“stay here,” donghyun squeezes your hand before slipping away, “i’ll be back.”

you wait in the cold for donghyun, who you can hear rifling in the back of the shed where joshua keeps the candles. the winter winds presses onto you and you shudder - from cold, from fear, from whatever.

you hear the shuffling stop but donghyun doesn’t appear.

“donghyun?” you call out, your voice embarrassingly shaky. but the shadows are growing longer and the night is growing darker and you have never been a fan of the dark.

“i’m here.”

you scream as donghyun emerges to your left - you didn’t even hear the crunch of snow under his feet over your heartbeat in your ears. you stumble backwards and land with a huff on the ground.

“are you laughing at me?” you whine at donghyun’s poorly muffled giggle.

“not at all,” he says with an inkling of fondness, hooking his arms under yours as he pulls you up.

“come on, you can hold the candles,” donghyun says, pressing the box into your hand as he maintains his hold on your other one.

you clutch it tightly, still trembling a little. the two of you start trooping your way back to the house, shuffling through the snow that has quickly accumulated on the grass.

but as you get closer, you notice something’s wrong. through the window, you can see donghyun’s room - and the window where you can usually see the glow of his aquarium.

donghyun notices too. he stills for a brief moment, his grip tightening on your hand.

“the heater,” he says, voice suddenly tense, “the tank heater runs on electricity.”

you’ve never seen donghyun run so fast before, usually he’s all slow and calm - but he sprints the rest of the way home, and you have to run to keep up, the candle box bouncing in your arms.

inside, you can still hear joshua banging around downstairs with the generator. donghyun throws off his shoes and rushes to his room, you close behind, abandoning your boots at the backdoor as he takes the stairs two steps at a time.

the tank sits in the darkness, absent of its usual glow. donghyun immediately sits down in front of it, his hands pressed against the glass.

“how cold is it?” you ask, setting the candles down as you clutch onto the doorframe for support.

“too cold already,” he says, voice cracking slightly, “i can feel it. they’re getting stressed. if the temperature drops even more…”

he cuts himself off, jaw clenched as he frantically looks around his room.

“hot water bottles. i can - i need to fill them with hot water, put them against the glass -”

“the water heater is electric too,” you say quietly.

donghyun’s hands ball into fists against the glass.

“there has to be something. i can’t just - i can’t just let them die because of this.”

you’ve never seen him like this. donghyun’s always calm, collected, and somehow already has control of the situation. but right now - it’s the first time you’ve seen him genuinely scared since the first night he came.

inside the tank, you can see the fish moving sluggishly. the otos have stopped their cleaning and the tetras aren’t schooling properly. even the usually active corydoras are just hovering near the bottom.

“they’re cold,” donghyun whispers, “they’re so cold. they don’t understand what’s happening.”

your heart squeezes as you watch him - breaking over his fish, these little creatures he’s cared for so meticulously.

“i don’t know what to do,” he presses his forehead against the glass.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers to the little fish, “i’m so sorry. i’m supposed to take care of you.”

you kneel beside him, staring at the tank. 

“i wish i could help,” you whisper, placing your hand on the glass next to donghyun’s, “i wish i could just… i don’t know, warm them up or something.”

then something cracks.

a warmth, like a yolk of a gooey egg, starts in your chest and spreads down your arms. it feels like standing in sunlight, pooling in your fingers until your palm against the glass feels hot.

“[y/n],” donghyun’s voice is strange, “[y/n] - your hand.”

you look down at your hand, which is glowing - quite literally, with a soft golden light. where your skin meets the glass, you can see condensation forming, like the glass is warming up.

“what -” you try to pull your hand away, but donghyun grabs your wrist.

“no, wait!” he presses your palm back against the glass, “keep doing… that! look -”

he gestures at the temperature gauge on the side of the glass that’s beginning to tick upward, slowly but surely.

“i don’t - i don’t know what i’m doing,” you stammer, but the warmth keeps flowing through you.

“you’re heating the water,” donghyun breathes out, “[y/n] - you’re saving them.”

“but - but how?”

“i don’t know. but please, don’t stop.”

donghyun presses a hand over yours and you press your other palm against the glass. it doesn’t hurt - it just feels warm and tickles like a tiny flame.

the temperature continues to climb. 18. 20.

inside the tank, you swear the fish are perking up. the otos resume their cleaning slowly and the corydoras are swimming to investigate the sudden warmth.

“is - is this good for them?” you say worryingly.

“it’s better than freezing to death,” donghyun keeps an eye on the temperature, “it’s warming up slow enough… i think. just - just keep doing it.”

you try to keep the warmth steady.

22 degrees. 24. the ideal temperature.

“okay,” donghyun says softly, “that’s good. it’s perfect. can you hold it there?”

“i - i think so?” you’re honestly not sure.

you’ve never done anything like this before. you didn’t even know you could do anything like this! sure - joshua was a mutant, but you’ve never gotten your powers. you thought the mutant gene had skipped over you entirely.

you concentrate on the feeling of warmth. steady - like sun rays and the heater and the fireplace on wintery day.

“it’s working,” donghyun’s voice is thick, “they’re going to be okay.”

he turns to look at you, “you’re saving them.”

“i didn’t - i don’t even know what i did,” you admit, still staring at your glowing hands in disbelief.

“you have powers,” donghyun says, “you’re a mutant. like me. like joshua.”

“oh,” you say dumbly, “i have powers, and - and i saved your fish?”

donghyun laughs wetly, “yeah - you saved my fish.”

you giggle back, “i got powers - and the first thing i did was warm up your fish!”

donghyun smiles weakly at you, “thank you.”

“happy fish, happy donghyun,” you hum, “they’re important to you, so they’re important to me, too.”

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

you end up sitting there for at least an hour. donghyun sits next to you, sharing his blanket as the two of you huddle around his fish tank and your glowing hands.

“does it hurt?” he asks at one point.

“not really,” you wriggle your fingers against the glass, “it feels like laying out on a rock on a summer day.”

“makes sense,” donghyun nods, his hair falling into his eyes, “joshua has lunar powers - you probably have solar powers.”

“wow!” you brighten up, “does that mean i can explode people too?”

donghyun smiles grimly, "i would hope not.”

"hey!”

joshua comes up the stairs a little while later, and finds you half-asleep and drooling on donghyun’s shoulder while he watches his fish swim peacefully in their tank, both of you swaddled in his goldfish patterned blanket.

"everyone - i fixed the generator!” joshua announces, before stopping in the doorway, "wait - why is it warm in here? why is [y/n] glowing?”

"powers,” you say sleepily, "i heated up the fish tank.”

joshua blinks, "you did?”

"the tank was getting cold, then [y/n] got warm, and then she saved all the fish,” donghyun supplies helpfully, adjusting the blanket that’s threatening to slip off your shoulder.

"huh,” joshua nods, "well! welcome to the squad, kiddo.”

but you’re already nodding off - again, thinking about sunny days and fishes and donghyun and saving the world.

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

age 15

“you can’t just explode your way out of every problem, [y/n],” joshua calls from where he’s leaning against the fence. the dummy he’s set up in the backyard still smoking from the fire blast you’ve directed at it.

you groan from your position on the floor, splayed out like a starfish as you watch the clouds drift through the gaps in the leaves.

“maybe we should take a break,” donghyun suggests from where he’s stretching on the grass. he’s finished his training session with joshua ages ago and have been just watching you struggle since then. he’s finally taller than you now, lean and quick, with an arsenal of tricks that make him seem older than fifteen.

“she’s got at least one more round in her,” joshua shakes his head, “c’mon, [y/n]. think about the sun! it’s so useful! the literal center of our universe!”

“ugh, but i can just explode my way out of everything!” you flop your limbs wildly.

“a good fighter is a versatile one,” joshua says wisely.

“i - i just need a break,” you sit up and wipe away the sweat pouring from your forehead.

“that’s exactly why you need the practice. in a real fight - the enemy won’t give you a break,” joshua gestures at the rest of the dummies, “now think. the sun has a gravitic field, it’s got a magnetic field, the weather is largely powered by the sun, it shines light - even potential for nuclear fusion. the limit is your imagination, kid.”

“what if i’m imagining an explosion?” you sigh, but stand to your feet anyway.

“okay - can i just make things really bright?” you suggest, “that could be useful, right?”

joshua cocks his head, “maybe. show me.”

you focus, and light blooms from your palms - not heat, but literal illumination. it’s like joshua’s silver orbs, but infinitely brighter. you always find it easier than the heat blasts - your powers take to shining better than burning.

“good!” joshua calls, “now make it blinding - like you’re trying to disorient an opponent.”

you concentrate harder, and the light intensities until even you have to squint against it. joshua and donghyun both throw up their hands to shield their eyes.

“okay, okay! dial it back!” joshua yells.

you let the light fade, feeling pleased with yourself, “see? i can do other stuff!”

“that’s just one ability. you’ve got dozens more,” joshua shakes the disorientation away and picks up a training weight - a solid metal ball that weighs about 20 kilograms.

“let’s work on gravity. you’ve seen me do it before. donghyun, stand over there.”

“why do i have a bad feeling about this?” donghyun asks, but he shuffles over obediently to where joshua pointed.

“because you’re smart,” you tell him, and he grins back at you.

joshua hefts the weight, “in three seconds, i’m going to throw this at donghyun’s head. you’re going to stop it.”

“what?!” you yell as donghyun’s eyes widen slightly.

“think fast!”

joshua, true to his word, hurls the weight directly at donghyun. your thinking turns into pure panic.

the weight stops mid-air, a meter from donghyun’s face.

it just floats, suspended, like gravity forgot it exists.

“jeez,” you let out a shaky breath as donghyun steps warily away from the trajectory of the weight.

“good,” joshua says casually, like he didn’t just almost kill donghyun via training weight, “now, bring it towards you.”

you stare at the floating weight, trying to figure out what you did. you imagine the weight floating towards you - like you were fishing and it’s a fish that bit onto the hook and you’re slowly reeling it back in.

the weight drifts towards you, wobbling slightly in the air. when it reaches you, you panic again and it drops. it hits the ground with a heavy thud, leaving a dent in the dirt.

“passable,” joshua nods when you look over at him, “you’ll work on it until it’s second nature.”

“can you fly?” donghyun says as he walks over.

“maybe,” joshua replies for you, “it will be your most useful ability if you master it.”

“can we go lie down now?” you ask, slouching into yourself.

“one more drill,” joshua says mercilessly.

you groan dramatically, but before you can protest further, joshua gestures to donghyun. 

“donghyun, i want you to attack with everything you’ve got. [y/n], defend yourself using any combination of your abilities.”

“everything?” donghyun hesitates, looking worried, “are you sure?”

you slap donghyun on the arm, “hey! i can handle it!”

joshua nods, agreeing, “the two of you need practice going all out, donghyun especially. you’re always holding back.”

“because i don’t want to hurt anyone,” donghyun mutters.

“which is admirable. but in a real fight, your enemy won’t extend the same courtesy,” joshua steps back, “whenever you’re ready.”

you let donghyun walk to the other end of the yard, looking apologetic already.

“don’t hold back because of me,” you say, even though you’re nervous. donghyun is one of the fastest people you’ve ever seen, and you’ve seen him accidentally pull a door off its hinges once because you woke him up the wrong way.

“i won’t,” he promises, but you can hear the doubt in his voice.

“go!” joshua yells.

donghyun moves first - not towards you, but away, circling to your left. you track him, your powers humming beneath your skin.

then the birds come.

crows nosedive at you from the trees, and sparrows dart at your face. you yelp and throw your hands up, creating a flash that sends them scattering.

you realise too late that it’s a distraction. in the time for you to do that, donghyun has already closed the distance - and suddenly, he’s right there, tapping your shoulder to signal you’re out.

“point to donghyun,” joshua calls out, “[y/n], that was poor!”

“the birds distracted me!”

“i’ll start with something else next time,” donghyun gently replies as one of the sparrows lands on his shoulder and chirps angrily at you.

“again,” joshua orders. 

so bossy, you think to yourself. but you ready yourself for whatever animal donghyun throws at you next.

you wait for the tell-tale chirp of birds out of trees, but rats pour out of the shed, tiny bodies streaming across the grass towards you. you scream and instinctively heat the ground around you. the rats squeak in fear and immediately change direction.

“good - but you need to stop being reactive!” joshua calls.

“i’m - i’m trying!” you say, flicking away with a wave of your hand the barrage of acorns the squirrels are launching at you from the trees. donghyun sends another flight of birds at you, crows cawing as they fly in and nip at you. you throw up a barrier of light that blinds them and they angrily change directions. you’re spinning in circles trying to deflect the attacks donghyun is throwing at you, all while keeping an eye on donghyun himself.

you hold out a hand and a crow that was diving for literally your eyes stalls in mid-air, it’s wings flapping helplessly as it screeches to a suspended halt.

“woah,” donghyun says, “that’s cool.”

you’re momentarily distracted by donghyun’s comment - your mistake. while you’re preoccupied, a particularly bold squirrel launches itself at your head.

you shriek and duck, instinctively creating a heat burst that sends the squirrel flying backwards into a bush.

“sorry!” you call worryingly after the squirrel.

“focus!” joshua shouts through barely concealed laughter.

donghyun is moving again, using your distraction to get close. but this time you’re ready. you create a zone of intense heat around yourself - not enough to hurt, but enough to be uncomfortable.

donghyun stops at the edge of it, testing the temperature.

“hot,” he notes.

“that’s the point!”

he circles, looking for a weakness. you try to maintain the heat while also watching for any more sudden surprise attacks from his animal friends. 

the heat zone flickers when a particularly large bird - you don’t even know what it is at this point, sails overhead and swoops for the crown of your hair. donghyun spots his opening and immediately capitalises on it. before you know it, he’s stepped through the zone.

you panic and do the only thing you can think of - you increase the effect of gravity on him.

donghyun stumbles, suddenly moving like he weighs twice as much. his eyes widen.

“okay, this is really unfair,” he throws out.

“all’s fair in love and war!” you yell, then immediately regret the ‘love’ part. your face heats up for reasons that have nothing to do with your powers.

donghyun struggles against your gravitic trap, but he’s adapting. animals are lighter than humans - so they’re less affected by your powers. a dove manages to get through and dive bombs your head.

you lose concentration and the gravity effect drops. donghyun immediately springs forward, faster than you expected, and taps your shoulder again.

“point to donghyun! match over,” joshua announces, “that’s enough for today.”

you collapse onto the grass, breathing hard. for all his efforts, donghyun still looks like he just took a walk in a park, hair all tousled in a nice way and not looking like he walked a mile in the rain.

“that was pretty scary,” he admits, sitting next to you with a loud exhale.

“you still won though,” you pout.

“just barely,” donghyun says, even though the both of you know he hardly tried.

“both of you did well,” joshua says, coming over with water bottles and tossing them at the two of you. donghyun catches his easily with one hand while yours smacks against your forehead and all you can do is let out an indignant ‘hey’!

“donghyun, you’ve been learning fast too, good job. i liked how you were coordinating attacks from all angles.”

“it felt like i was fighting an army,” you grumble, unscrewing the cap of your bottle.

“you were - just that it was an army of acorn launching squirrels,” joshua says gravely, shaking his head.

“it was their idea,” donghyun offers as a squirrel chitters furiously at you from the bushes, the tip of its tail still smoking and singed.

"language,” donghyun says sternly to it before turning to you, “she says she wants an apology.”

“sorry!” you yell at her guiltily and donghyun laughs as the squirrel more or less turns it nose up at you before scurrying away. 

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

later, after you’ve both showered and changed, you find donghyun in his room as usual, doing his evening check of the fish tank.

“everything okay?” you ask, flopping onto his bed.

“good. the angel fish might need a bigger tank soon,” he glances at you, “you okay? you took some hard hits during training today.”

“i’m fine, just tired,” you yawn to really emphasise the idea, “what about you? the gravity thing - did it feel weird?”

he pauses, considering, “it didn’t hurt. it just felt like trying to move with weights strapped to me.”

“oh, okay, good,” you let out a sigh of relief, “i didn’t want to hurt you.”

“you didn’t. you won’t,” he says with certainty, sitting at the foot of the bed, “you never hurt the things you care about.”

“what if i lose control or something?” you raise your hands up against the ceiling and stare at them.

“you won’t, besides, if you did. i’ll be there to help you,” donghyun nudges your foot and you sigh loudly again.

“you’re right. thanks, donghyun.”

“by the way,” he sets down his notebook, “about what you said… about how stuff is fair in love and war -”

“it’s just an expression!” you bolt up from his bed, face burning, “it means like - anything is fair as long as you get what you want in the end! i read it in a book!”

donghyun’s eyes study your expression, and his face is set into that unreadable poker face where you can tell he’s either thinking or spaced out.

“okay, i get it,” he finally says thoughtfully.

"yeah… yeah,” you cough away the awkwardness and settle back in the pillows. it’s just a slip up - stop making such a big fuss!

"can i watch the fish for a bit?” you ask instead.

"you never have to ask,” he says softly.

so you stay, eventually dozing away on his bed while listening to the bubbling of his fish tank and basking it’s glow.

somewhere in the middle, donghyun’s hand finds yours, and neither of you mention it or pull away.

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

age 18

the summer is sticky.

you sprawled out on donghyun’s floor, sharing the fan and groaning about the heat. you’re supposed to be worrying about summer homework but you’ve taken to instead talking animatedly about the fish you managed to catch over the weekend while donghyun just listens.

"[y/n]! donghyun! come downstairs - we have a visitor,” joshua yells, breaking the humming of the fan.

the two of you exchange glances. visitors were rare - you lived practically in the middle of nowhere in the woods. your neighbours lived miles away.

"coming!” you yell, snapping your notebook close.

you take the stairs two steps at a time, donghyun behind you as you bound down the stairs.

"who is -”

you stop short. 

in the middle of the living room is a man in a wheelchair - with the type of eyes that are kind but make you stand on edge, it’s like he can see right through you as though you were glass.

"donghyun, [y/n]. this is professor xavier,” joshua says after a deep breath.

donghyun steps forward, "it’s nice to meet you.”

he says evenly, and professor xavier gives a deep chuckle that sounds more polite than amused.

"no need to be so on edge, mr. kim,” he steeples his fingers together, "let me introduce myself. i am charles xavier, i run a school for… mutants. for people like you and [y/n] here.”

"a school,” you repeat quietly, "for mutants?”

“yes,” professor xavier nods, “a place where you can be safe, get an education, and develop your abilities. there are others like you there - you are not alone.”

you glance at joshua, who’s leaning as casually as he can against the wallpaper in the hallway with a carefully crafted look on his face.

“why now?” donghyun asks quietly, but there’s an edge to his voice you rarely hear.

“joshua and i have been… in contact,” professor xavier says gently, “i understand this is a…  surprise, but there is quite the special situation here.”

he turns in his wheelchair around to you, “[y/n], if i am to understand correctly - you have solar manipulation, correct? much akin to the lunar abilities your brother has.”

you feel your mouth go dry as you nod slightly.

“if that is to be believed, then - my dear, you have potential to be classified as an omega-level mutant.”

“wh - what’s that?”

“omega-level mutants are special, they’re the strongest mutants there is,” professor xavier explains, “they have no defined upper limits to their power, and the ability to affect the entire world.”

“i - i can do that?” 

“i understand you are just starting your training, miss [y/n],” the professor glances back at joshua, “but if your brother represents the upper echelons of your power, i believe there would be no argument on whether you can.”

joshua? the guy who burns pancakes? you knew he was an avenger, and that meant he was someone important - but…

“we’re fine here,” donghyun insists, crossing his arms across his chest.

“i do not doubt that,” the professor reassures quickly, “joshua has done an admirable job keeping you safe and helping you develop your abilities. but you're both eighteen now. adults. and the world is becoming more… complicated for mutants. at my school, you would have access to training facilities, more resources, other young mutants your age - people who understand what it's like.”

“we understand just fine,” donghyun’s mouth is set in a thin line.

“there is value in being part of something bigger,” the professor’s tone is patient, “in being a part of a community of people like you.”

you glance at joshua again, trying to read his face. he’s been looking after you both for years - teaching you, training you, protecting you. the thought of leaving is… foreign, it feels wrong. leaving was for a day trip to town where you get ice cream and come home, not going to a new place with new people.

“i am not trying to take you away from your home,” professor xavier continues, as if reading your thoughts, “think of it as… an opportunity to grow - to branch out. joshua and your home will always be here. but my school can offer you things that even he cannot.”

“like what?” donghyun huffs.

“structure. resources. friends. the world beyond these woods isn’t always kind to mutants, my dear children. my school will help you… prepare for that reality.”

you and donghyun exchange a glance.

“can we think about it?” you eventually say.

“of course. it is, after all, a decision that should not be considered lightly. take your time, discuss it together. when you are ready - joshua will know how to reach me,” the professor inclines his head and gives you a smile.

he wheels himself towards the door, then pauses.

“for what it’s worth - the two of you have a rare gift. not just your powers… but each other. my school won’t change that. if anything, it will help the both of you to become strong enough to protect it.”

after he leaves - driving away in a blue car that rattles loudly and swerves wildly, a heavy silence settles over the three of you.

“so, what do you think?” joshua finally breaks the silence as he detaches himself from his place on the wall.

“did you call him?” you ask softly.

joshua massages his temple, “i did. what the professor said was right. i think… it’s time you two discovered the world for yourself.”

“are you sending us away?” your voice comes out smaller than you intended.

“what? god, no,” joshua says immediately, “never - it’s your choice. if you want to stay here forever, that’s okay too. i just want you to have… choices - options.”

“what do you think we should do?” donghyun asks quietly.

joshua pauses, “i think you should go with what you want. you're both incredibly powerful, more than you realise. i can’t protect the two of you forever - and there are limits to what i know. professor xavier - he’s… he’s old. and he’s helped hundreds of mutants - people like us, control abilities far more complex and scary. he can help you.”

“but?” you prompt, jumping onto the hesitation that trails in his voice.

“but you’re my family,” joshua says simply, “there’s a part of me that wants to keep you here where i know you’re safe. where i can protect you. but, it’s up to you. i won’t stop you, and i wouldn’t want to. do what you think is right.”

“i don’t trust myself,” your voice is shaky.

“sometimes, neither do i,” joshua says softly, “but we do it anyway.”

that night, you and donghyun sit in front of his fish tank like you did a thousand times before.

“what do you think? should we go?” you ask quietly.

“i don’t know,” donghyun replies, watching his fish clean his tank methodically, “part of me wants to stay here - with my fish, and you, and joshua.”

“but?”

“but… what if the professor is right? what if there’s more out there for us?”

he turns to you, “[y/n], what do you want?”

you’re quiet for a moment.

“i want… i want to become strong enough to protect the things that are precious to me. like - like joshua, and you, and your fish.”

“then maybe,” donghyun starts carefully, “then maybe we go. learn. become stronger. and then we come back.”

“together?” 

“of course,” donghyun finds your hand and squeezes it, “always.”

“okay,” you take a deep breath, “let’s do it.”

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

“god, this is heavy!” 

you whine as you slowly make your way down the stairs, gripping onto the corners of donghyun’s fish tank. donghyun’s already made sure his fish is transported in a less precarious tank, but he insisted on bringing the whole thing with him anyways instead of just getting a new one when you arrive at the x-mansion.

“it’s their home,” donghyun protests from where he is on the other side of the tank, “don’t drop it!”

the two of you manage to shove the fish tank into the back of joshua’s car with great effort and a telling twinge in your back.

“is this really necessary?” joshua raises an eyebrow.

“the fish aren’t good with unfamiliar environments,” donghyun says, fussing over the smaller tanks and making sure they’re comfortable enough for the road while you’re relegated to carrying your (and donghyun’s) bags of personal belongings out of the house and loading it into the car.

“one, three, five… ten. my fishing rod. donghyun’s net. okay - i think that’s everything!” you clap your hands as you count up the bags. 

“there’s barely enough space to sit,” joshua grumbles as he shoves a bag off the driver’s seat and sits down heavily, “it’s like you guys emptied the whole house.”

“it’s okay, donghyun and i can squeeze in the backseat,” you try to push yourself into bags the best you can so donghyun can squeeze into your side, knees knocking together as he reaches out to pull the car door shut.

joshua sighs loudly, “make sure you’re comfortable, it’s going to be a five hour drive.”

“wake me up when we get there,” you announce loudly, promptly dropping your head onto donghyun’s shoulder and squeezing your eyes shut in a show.

“smooth driving,” donghyun says with a smile and joshua just sighs loudly again in response.

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

five hours later, you’re standing in front of the mansion for the first time.

it’s larger than you imagined. at least five times the size of your house, if not more. it’s all stony and weathered and… old. there’s students everywhere - younger, older, your age. some of them have visible mutations - angel wings, green skin, a thousand eyes all over their body, all of them chatting with each other and mingling, like a normal school.

“woah,” you breathe.

“yeah,” donghyun agrees, equally awed.

joshua puts a hand on both of your shoulders, “ready?”

“not really,” you confess.

“well, you’re here now!” joshua cheerfully says.

“is it too late to turn back?”

“yup!”

professor xavier meets you at the entrance - alongside a tall boy with dark hair and intense eyes.

“welcome,” the professor says warmly, “this is sungho, one of our senior students. he’ll be showing you around.”

“nice to meet you,” sungho says stoically, extending a hand out, “welcome to the mansion.”

you and donghyun both awkwardly shake it and he turns on his heel immediately, tapping on the block in his hands.

“so, [y/n] & donghyun, i’ve heard a lot about you two. your abilities are quite impressive,” he says as he taps on his slab.

“thanks,” you say, suddenly shy.

“i’m sure you’ll learn a great deal here,” sungho looks at you over his shoulder, “so try your best.”

is everyone out here so intense?

“you’ll both get individual rooms, but they’re adjoining. professor xavier thought you’d appreciate that,” sungho screeches to a halt in front of a closed door, “since they’re close to the entrance, it’s a bit noisy, but it’s our last pair.”

you watch as something indescribable flickers across sungho’s face as he fiddles through his pocket, but before you can point it out his calm and collected face settles back into place. you watch as sungho produces a key from his pocket and hurriedly inserts it into the door and twists.

“this one’s been lived in before,” his voice cracks slightly towards the end and he coughs loudly to cover it, “so it’s furnished slightly already. i hope you don’t mind.”

he pushes the door open slightly and hands the key over to donghyun. he swings open to a room with an expansive view of the back garden through the large window, white curtains billowing in the breeze. there are various posters pinned to the walls and a corkboard, full of holes, hung up above the desk. on the floor is a colourful, out-of-place rug, accompanied by a matching full length mirror.

“this one is donghyun’s,” sungho pulls out another key from his pocket, “and the room next door is [y/n]’s.”

he lets you open your own dorm room - which in comparison is more impersonal and emptier.

“you’re welcome to decorate how you like,” sungho continues on, “we just ask for nothing too permanent or staining.”

he taps on his board a few more times, the sound sharp and unnatural, “classes start at nine every morning. breakfast is from six to eight in the dining hall. you’re free to use the kitchen whenever you like. in the morning, you’ll get regular academic classes - maths, literature, science, the likes. the afternoon is reserved for mutant-specific classes, combat training, or danger room sessions. outside of that, you can sign up for the classes you’re interested in once the school year officially begins. you’ll be placed into teams in your second year, depending on your progress.”

sungho hands you the two large manila files he’s been carrying this whole time, “you’ll find your schedule in there, alongside a map of the mansion and the handbook. we try to be light on punishments, so don’t be the first to get expelled from this school, alright?”

sungho looks up at the two of you, “any questions?”

“sounds like a lot,” you admit.

“it’ll take some getting used to - but you’ll adjust soon enough,” sungho’s tone is somewhat sympathetic.

“the bathroom’s down the hall on the right and the showers are communal,” sungho barrels on, “you’ll be sharing it with some other students, but it doesn’t get too bad, at least, in my experience.”

sungho looks back down at his thin notebooknot-notebook, “dinner’s at seven. the professor wants to meet the two of you tomorrow morning to assess your abilities and figure out the right classes for you. for now, feel free to explore the mansion. try not to blow anything up on your first day.”

“no promises,” you joke weakly.

sungho gives you a grim smile, “wouldn’t be the first time. see you at dinner.”

after he leaves, donghyun and you just stand there in the hallway, carrying your bags.

“so…” you trail off.

“so,” donghyun echoes.

“i’ll help you move your tank in?” you ask delicately.

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

dinner is overwhelming.

the dining hall is larger than you imagined - and it is also loud. it’s filled with dozens of students that seem to all know each other already. you and donghyun are squeezed together on the same bench at the end of one table, picking at your food.

“they’re staring,” you mumble, noticing several students glancing your way.

“they’re just curious about the new people,” donghyun replies, as unbothered as always as he pushes his vegetables around.

“i don’t like being the new people,” you manage to say through a mouthful of rice.

“hey there, boy who thinks about fish and girl who thinks about fishing,” a pair of boys sit down across from you uninvited, setting down their trays with a loud rattle.

“what?” you swallow down your food.

“sorry. i’m a telepath,” one of them says - the one with reddish brown hair, pointing at his forehead, “can’t help myself sometimes, especially when people are thinking loud.”

people can think loud?

“sure can,” he replies breezily, and it takes you a moment to figure out he’s responding to your literal thoughts, “you’re the new kids who enrolled late, right?”

“uh, yeah,” you manage to stutter out.

“i’m heeseung,” he says, chopsticks swirling through his ramen, “this is my teammate, jake.”

“hey,” jake says, and you can’t help but notice his accent, “so what do you guys do? power-wise, i mean.”

your eyes widen, “you can just ask that?”

jake and heeseung exchange a look.

“i mean, we’re all mutants here - besides, i told you i had telepathy. isn’t it fair you tell me yours?”

jake nods, “for what it’s worth, i’ll reveal mine too.”

he puts a hand over his heart, “jake sim. year three. i have fire powers.”

as if to prove it, he flicks out a finger and lights the candle on the table on fire.

“your turn,” heeseung grins.

you glance at donghyun, who shrugs slightly - your call.

“i have… solar manipulation. heat, light, gravity. stuff like that,” you hold up your hand and it glows slightly. when you hover it over the candle next to jake’s one, it bursts into flames as well.

“wait, no fair. how come you get to control so many things?” jake grumbles, watching as his fire gets absolutely trumped by the intensity of yours.

“what about you?” heeseung turns to donghyun.

“i can talk to animals,” donghyun says simply.

a pause. as if heeseung and jake are waiting for donghyun to elaborate more.

“that’s it?” jake asks - more curious than unimpressed.

donghyun nods, “that’s it.”

“still, that’s pretty cool,” heeseung folds his hands together, “do birds make your bed or something? like in the movies?”

donghyun gives him his almost-smile, “sometimes, if i ask nicely.”

“solar manipulation, though,” jake muses, still stuck on your power, “that’s way cool.”

“hey - that’s how mutations work. everyone’s got something - it just sucks that some are cooler than others,” heeseung sighs and shakes his head, “like - there’s at least two new telepaths in the new batch. both level 5, too, with telekinesis.”

“there’s just… a lot of people,” you eventually manage over their quiet grievances.

“you’ll know everyone soon,” heeseung reassures, “it took me weeks to remember everyone’s name - i settled for yelling out what they were thinking to grab their attention.”

despite yourself, you giggle.

“it’ll be fine,” jake affirms over his sandwich, “so - donghyun. do you actually talk to animals? or is it more like - feeling what they feel?”

“a bit of both,” donghyun explains, “i can… have conversations, talk directly to them. they have their own languages and personalities. it’s not mind control. they can choose not to listen, but usually they do.”

“that’s so cool,” jake leans forward, “so, like, right now, could you… i don’t know - are there any animals around?”

“there’s a mouse in the wall behind you,” donghyun says casually, “she’s annoyed that we’re being so loud.”

“oh - what?” jake immediately pulls away from the wall with a cringe, “a mouse?”

the four of you watch as said mouse emerges from a hole in the wall, sniffling before leaping onto the table. jake immediately snatches his sandwich up and moves thirty steps away as heeseung slowly lifts up his bowl of ramen, as if any sudden movement could alert the mouse to his existence.

“someone do something!” jake hisses loudly.

donghyun scoops the mouse up casually with his hands and it disappears into the folds of his clothes.

jake stills.

“is - is that it?” he asks quietly.

“she just wanted to make new friends,” donghyun shrugs.

“friend,” heeseung repeats carefully, “imagine fighting an army of rats.”

“no, thank you,” jake breathes out as he nears your table again, “i’d rather fight anything else.”

“i’d rather not fight at all,” donghyun says quietly, as his new friend pokes her snout out of his sleeve and looks directly at you. 

“all of us would rather not fight,” someone cuts in before either heeseung and jake could say something.

you look up to see an older girl - gorgeous, is your first thought, scary, is your second, “but we have to be prepared.”

she flashes you a large smile, “i’m sakura. i help run combat.”

“combat,” you repeat, feeling your stomach drop.

“don’t worry, we’ll start you slow,” sakura says, but there’s something sharp in her smile, “but the danger room is named that for a reason.”

she gives a nod to heeseung and jake, “well - glad to see you’re all getting along. enjoy the rest of your evening, kids.”

she walks away, and you slump in your seat.

“sakura’s nice,” heeseung offers, “she’s just happens to be an omega-level mutant - and that’s the scary thing about her.”

that phrase again.

“does being an omega-level mutant mean you’re scary?” you ask quietly.

jake shrugs, “there’s, like, ten omega-levels in the whole wide world. of course it does.”

you feel your heart sink, the weight of being here finally settling like a pit in your stomach.

“hey, let’s exchange phone numbers or something,” heeseung says casually.

“oh, sure,” you fumble for your phone in your back pocket.

“woah, flip phone - super retro,” jake’s eyes widen, “where did you get that?”

“it’s a hand-me-down from my brother,” you explain as you flip open your phone to turn it on.

donghyun flips open his own one and heeseung coughs awkwardly.

“is that all you have?” he asks curiously, shaking a slab of black metal at you, “no, like - smartphone? iphone?”

“uh,” heeseung and jake watch as you slap your phone to get it to power on, “yeah - joshua says screens are bad.”

“jesus christ,” jake mutters, “you poor things.”

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

that night, donghyun finds you collapsed on his bed by the time he comes back from the showers.

“that was a lot,” you say, staring at his ceiling.

“yeah,” he sits at his desk as he dries his hair with a towel, “how are you feeling?”

“fine… just different.”

“different isn’t always bad,” donghyun offers. 

you’re quiet for a moment, and donghyun swears he can hear you thinking.

“hey, donghyun?”

“mhm?”

“promise you’ll always be my best friend?”

when you look at him, his eyes are soft, “i’m not going anywhere, [y/n].”

he holds out his pinky and you link yours with his.

“even if you have to be my best friend for a thousand years?”

“even then,” he confirms, “and for even longer.”

you fall asleep on his bed that night, and he doesn’t wake you. just drapes his goldfish patterned blanket over you and goes back to examining his new fish tank, penning his thoughts and observations in his notebook.

some things, you think to yourself before drifting off to sleep, some things never change.

and thank god for that.

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

summer is bright. 

“way too bright,” you mumble against your pillow as you crack an eye open against the streaming sunlight. you stretch lazily before checking the alarm clock on your bedside table.

9:47.

your eyes widen as you pretty much trip out of your bed, flinging your blanket and pillows back onto the bed as you dig through your closet. you were supposed to meet donghyun at 10 for a visit to the vet clinic.

“crap - crap. donghyun’s gonna be so mad at me!” you mumble as you quickly grab your things and scramble out the door, taking the stairs two steps at a time as you basically fly down it. you’ve been doing this every few weeks for the past months, bringing the various animals donghyun has collected around the mansion to doctor lee, who runs a vet clinic in the town nearby. sungho had recommended him to you after an injured fox came to donghyun’s door the second week into school.

and you tag along because… well, wherever donghyun goes, you follow. it’s been like that for the past eight years, and it doesn’t seem to be changing anytime soon. following him, relying on him, getting butterflies in your stomach because of him (not that that means anything), having dreams where -

you shake the end of the thought out of your head, because living with mutants means living with at least three telepaths tuned into your thoughts at all time, and you would rather not address whatever you’re thinking about donghyun, if possible.

donghyun is waiting by the front door when you skid into the hallway, a cardboard box cradled in his arms. he looks up at the sound of your approach with a pout on his lips.

“you’re late,” he mumbles.

“i know! i’m sorry!”

“you set five alarms. i heard all of them.”

“and - and i snoozed all of them,” you cringe at yourself, “stop pouting! i’m still on time, aren’t i?”

donghyun turns his face away in mock hurt, but when he turns back around he has that soft, fond expression dongmin claims only you get to see.

you peer into the box to hide the heat growing up your neck - three baby rabbits nestle in torn cloth that you recognise as one of donghyun’s old tshirts, huddling closely around each other.

“aw, baby bunnies! where did you find them?”

“north garden. their mother was killed by a predator,” donghyun adjusts the box carefully, “doctor lee will know how to care for them. they can’t speak well yet.”

mid-summer heat beats down on the two of you as you walk into town. you’ve never been too bothered by the heat, but donghyun looks like he’d rather die than spend a second longer in the sun. you talk enough to entertain the both of you during the trip - sakura’s teaching a new combat technique, the news you’ve heard about teams for the second year, the movie night everyone’s planning for friday. donghyun listens with his usual quiet attention, offering hums and hahs when appropriate.

“do you think they’ll put us on the same team, donghyun?”

“i don’t know, [y/n],” he answers truthfully, shifting the box in his hands.

“i hope so,” you look down at your feet, “i don’t know what to do without you.”

“hey, it’ll be okay. you’re one of the most powerful mutants in the mansion.”

“still…”

it’s not news to you how much you depend on donghyun. even joshua jokes about how he worries about you if donghyun isn’t there. but the funny thing is that… he is. he always is.

“[y/n]? you okay?”

you blink, realising you’ve gone quiet, “yeah - sorry. just thinking.”

donghyun’s gaze is searching, but he doesn’t push. he never does, because you usually just blurt out your thoughts to him in the end anyways.

the veterinary clinic smells clean - like antispectic. the bell above the door in the shape of a bird chimes as you enter. doctor lee emerges from the back with a lizard, which he places into its cage before wiping his hands on a towel.

“donghyun! [y/n]! right on time,” he smiles at you, “what do we have today?”

“baby rabbits,” donghyun says, setting the box on the counter, “i found them orphaned.”

“poor things,” doctor lee’s smile drops, “let me take a look at them.”

you hear doctor lee hum and hah as he peers into the box - “donghyun, you have such a gift for nurturing damaged creatures, don't you?”

donghyun shifts uncomfortably, rubbing his wrist, “they just need to be cared for.”

“care. love. purpose. whatever it is,” doctor lee pets one of the rabbits on the head with a finger, “they’ll find it here, i promise.”

while they discuss care instructions, you wander around the waiting room, staring at the posters of cute puppies and kittens. you wag a finger at a puppy with a blue collar and coo at kitten with a leg wrap. a pair of brightly coloured, peach faced birds chirp at you when you stand up.

“agapornis - they’re a parrot species,” doctor lee informs you as he appears behind you, checking things off his clipboard, “are you and donghyun in the market for adopting birds?”

“huh?” you look back at the birds, who stare back at you, “well… donghyun does like birds. he likes to teach them how to sing.”

doctor lee raises an eyebrow at you, “these birds come in pairs. perfect for you and donghyun. they mate for life, you know? fascinating creatures. they'll die if separated from their mate. literally.”

you laugh nervously, “um - that sounds pretty sad.”

“it is,” doctor lee agrees, “well, i was just merely suggesting they might suit you two. symbiotic creatures. two halves of a whole.”

doctor lee’s voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, “also… they’re also commonly called lovebirds.”

“what?!” you lurch backwards and yelp, gaining a chuckle from doctor lee as you step away from the cage.

“what’s wrong?” donghyun looks up from where he is with the baby rabbits, worry evident in his voice.

“n - nothing!” your face burns and you quickly wrench open the door to the clinic, “i - i think saw someone outside! i’m gonna go say hi!”

the bell rings behind you before either of them can object, and you’re racing down the street in a flurry of shame and embarrassment.

“[y/n] -” donghyun moves to follow you.

“donghyun, stop.”

doctor lee calls from behind him and donghyun’s feet stop, his entire body freezing up at his command before he forcibly makes himself relax.

“is something wrong?” donghyun says as he turns around.

“not much,” doctor lee places a bunny back in the box and extends a hand out to donghyun.

the moment their palms touch, doctor lee's grip is firm.

“take good care of her,” doctor lee says, eyes locked onto donghyun’s, “well - you’re good at protecting what matters to you, aren’t you?”

donghyun pulls his hand back, “of course.”

“even if it means protecting her from yourself?”

“i’m not sure what you mean,” donghyun replies stiffly and doctor lee just laughs.

“ah, young love and desire,” the doctor releases him with a smile, “off you go, then. i’m sure she’s waiting for you.”

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

ten minutes. fifteen. 

you’re finally confident that enough time has passed for both donghyun and doctor lee to forget the whole lovebird incident and finally find it in you to round the corner onto the street with the vet clinic. donghyun is already waiting for you outside, hands in his pockets and leaning against the wall.

a girl is gesturing to him, shyly kicking her feet as she points to her phone. as you draw nearer, you can see donghyun’s carefully constructed neutral face as he shakes his head.

the girl catches your approach in the corner of her eyes and her hand dips, horror on her face as she stutters.

“oh - i’m, uh, i’m so sorry! i didn’t realise -”

“it’s fine,” donghyun says gently - in that way where he’s always so nice to everyone, “i’m flattered - really, but i’m not really interested in dating right now.”

the girl nods quickly and bolts, practically scurrying down the street with red cheeks. you watch as she disappears, and turn to donghyun with a teasing grin.

“wow, donghyun - you really are popular!”

donghyun gives you a look - the one that he gives you when he catches you doing something you’re not supposed to do.

“it happens sometimes.”

“well… you are tall,” and other things.

you shift your weight and look down at your feet, “she seemed nice.”

“she was,” he agrees simply, then tilts his head, trying to catch a glimpse of your face, “are you okay? you left pretty fast back there.”

your face immediately heats up at the memory of the lovebird incident, “i’m - i’m fine! doctor lee just says some weird things - y’know! stuff!”

donghyun’s lips quirk into his almost-smile, and you know he just figured out what exactly made you stumble out of doctor lee’s clinic. the idea of that makes you want to evaporate into steam.

“something about the birds?” donghyun asks, his tone laced with amusement.

“no! yes! maybe! can we just walk back already? talk about something else?” you plead, starting down the street without waiting for an answer.

you hear donghyun laugh lightly before he falls into step beside you - the afternoon sun beats down on both of you - a quiet midsummer.

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

age 19

you’ve been waiting for autumn’s orange hues - when the river is plentiful with fish and the temperature is hot but not too hot.

“it’s a reconnaissance mission,” sakura hands you and donghyun a file at the beginning of your second year, “i’ve sent a digital copy to your tablets as well.”

“recon?” you groan as donghyun pulls out the stack of papers from his folder, “but that’s so boring!”

“it’ll be the test to determine your team placements,” sakura gives you a ghost of a smile as she points to your folder, “we’ll be selecting teams depending on your performance - and if you do well enough, you may be fast tracked onto one of the x teams.”

you perk up - the x teams. the elites. the real superhero who does actual missions and aren’t just regulated to patrols and training exercises.

“what’s the mission?” donghyun says, flipping through the papers methodically. you watch over his shoulder as he scrutinises a photograph.

“we’ve just received intel that there’s unusual mutant activity in the area,” sakura explains, pulling up a map on her tablet, “nothing dangerous, just… anomalies. we want confirmation of what exactly is happening there. your job is to scout the perimeter, identity any threats, and report back. you are not to engage unless absolutely necessary.”

sakura swipes through her photos, “you’ll be there for three days, and heeseung will be supervising. it is imperative you document anything strange but remain unengaged, understood?”

the two of you nod in unison and sakura smiles, “if there is anything unexpected or dangerous - we expect you to disengage and leave immediately. if you are forced to fight - do whatever is necessary to defend and remove yourselves from the situation.”

she nods at the both of you, “you will leave tomorrow morning. any questions?”

you look at donghyun, who shakes his head.

“nope, thank you, sakura!”

sakura clicks off her tablet, “good. remember - take care of each other.”

that night, you’re repacking your bags again for the fourth time since you got the debriefing from sakura. you pace your dorm room, checking and rechecking against the list you’ve drawn up. suit - check. comms - check. emergency rations - check. you’re so lost in the ticking off of checklists that you jump when there’s a soft knock on your door.

donghyun stands in the doorway in an oversize t-shirt and sleep pants when you open the door, brown hair in his eyes as he yawns.

“you’re awake,” he observes.

“couldn’t sleep,” you give him a tight smile, “why are you awake?”

“wanted to check on you,” he runs a hand through his hair, “heard you pacing.”

“sorry,” you whisper, “i’m just nervous. what if i forget something?”

donghyun steps lightly into your room and closes the door behind him, stepping over your open duffel bag and sits on the edge of your bed, reviewing the contents with the same attention he gives to injured animals and hungry fish.

“it looks good,” he says after a moment, “did you pack the thermal patches i mentioned?”

“ugh, yes, donghyun,” you groan, “did you know? i told joshua about this mission and he asked if i was bringing you! he said ‘oh, but i worry about you if donghyun’s not there!’”

you pout as you cross your arms, flopping down next to him on the bed as he laughs quietly.

“well, someone has to keep you organised,” he replies, ribbing you in the side, “you’d probably forget your head if it wasn’t attached.”

“but still,” he continues on, voice softer, “i don’t think you would have to worry about that. i’d like to stay with you.”

stay with you? as in like - together? as in something like girlfriend boyfriend? not like you’d complain but -

“huh? like - like in what way?” you spring up, eyes wide as the thought registers in your head.

“why are you surprised?” donghyun blinks innocently at you, “is that a problem?”

“yes? n - no! i mean - do what you want!”

donghyun stands, coming closer to you and his expression unreadable in the dim light of your room.

“[y/n], i…” he starts, and your heart jumps into your throat. this is it - he’s going to say something about the distance (or lack thereof) between you, he’s going to confess his love or something, or he’s going to say you’re acting weird and he actually really isn’t looking to date anyone right now -

“i think we should get some sleep,” he says instead, and the moment shatters like glass.

you deflate, though you’re not sure if you feel relieved or disappointed.

“big day tomorrow.”

you nod, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth, “y - yeah. we should.”

donghyun moves towards the door, stretching as he yawns.

“goodnight,” he says, lingering by the doorway.

you swallow, reach out, and say something that’s been simmering underneath you.

“wait!”

he cocks his head as he waits for you to continue.

“can - can you stay?”

donghyun goes very still, the moon shining on his face in a harsh glow. they say the eyes are the mirror to the soul - but somehow his are stormy, and for once in a very long time - completely undecipherable to you.

“what’s wrong?” he says quietly, crossing back across the room.

“i’m scared of messing up,” you whisper, your arms hanging listlessly by your side.

“you won’t,” he says simply, taking your hand gently as he guides you back to bed.

“but what if?”

“it’s no use thinking of what ifs right now,” he shakes his head, sitting on the edge of the bed as you burrow under your covers, “you’re one of the strongest people i know, [y/n]. in every way that matters.”

you want to ask what he means by that. you want to ask a thousand things that sit heavy on your tongue and weigh in your mind. but you’ve learnt that pushing does nothing to donghyun, and you’ve promised him that you’ll take it step by step - at his own pace. so, instead, you close your eyes and let yourself drift to sleep with the sound of his steady breathing as your anchor.

when you wake up the next morning, he’s gone, but there’s a note on the nightstand from him.

besides, i’ll always be here to help you. you’ll never be alone, not while i’m here. - d.

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

grey skies and rain greets you as you step outside.

“there’s our omega-level superstar,” heeseung grins as you approach the vehicle, “ready to show everyone how it’s done?”

“looks like a bad omen,” you shake your head as you look up at the sky, drizzling slightly, “like - here comes the girl with the sun powers, let’s make it rain.”

heeseung laughs, “don’t stress. it’s just a recon mission.”

donghyun arrives a few seconds later, climbing into the car next to you as heeseung loads up a map at the screen in the front of the car.

“this is nicer than sungho’s blue van,” donghyun notes.

“well, it’s my baby,” heeseung pats the steering wheel proudly, “and also, the blue van is a low bar to clear.”

his eyes turn serious, “alright, listen up. i’ll be supervising, but i won’t intervene unless necessary. you get in, and then get out. we'll establish a base camp in the foothills before approaching the facility.”

he pulls up satellite imagery of the location - a sprawling complex nestled in the mountains, tucked between large trees and dense vegetation.

“we’ve confirmed no hostile activity so far, but that doesn’t mean it’s safe,” heeseung continues, “it’s your job to observe, patrol, and document once we’re close enough. understood?”

you nod and heeseung smiles, meeting your eyes in the mirror.

“alright, let me show you how a person with a license actually drives!”

the vehicles hums to life as it lurches into motion, and heeseung cranks up the volume on his radio. donghyun jostles into your shoulder and you laugh breathlessly at the absurdity of going on your first real mission. two years ago you were playing target practice with tree branches, and now you’re on your way to exploring a literal abandoned factory. you shudder in your seat in a fizzy mix of excitement and trepedation.

“don’t be so nervous,” donghyun whispers under his breath as his hand finds yours, squeezing it in reassurance, “it’ll be fine.”

you’re thankful that heeseung is already too engrossed into singing along to his playlist for him to notice your hands.

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

the facility looms ahead, grey and concrete and cold. donghyun and you decide to approach from the east side, moving carefully through the treeline and slipping into shadows like ghosts. your thermal suit kept you invisible from any heat sensors, and donghyun moves like water - his presence so silent you’d sometimes forget he was just a few steps ahead and lose him amongst the trees sometimes.

“something off,” donghyun observes, quietly relaying the information through the mental link heeseung has set up prior to your expedition.

“elaborate,” heeseung’s voice has taken on a sharper edge as it fills your mind.

“i… i’m not sure,” donghyun throws you an uncertain glance, “but the air’s heavy.”

heeseung pauses for a breath.

“get closer,” he eventually says, and donghyun gestures at you to stick close as the two of you slink closer, slick against the wall of the facility.

“anything?” donghyun whispers and you shake your head. just walls - normal walls. walls meant to keep someone out and whatever is inside… in.

then - something. you hear them coming first - like the sound of the whistling of wind through trees: sharp, discordant, and piercing.

donghyun’s entire body goes rigid and he immediately starts pulling you back by the arm.

you see them at the same moment he does. they - whatever they are, emerge from the shadows of the facility like oil, figures of pure darkness that seem to absorb light. they move in waves, jerky and unnatural as they claw towards you.

dogs - you realise with a start - canines, made of literal darkness.

“run,” donghyun says urgently, pulling you back towards the tree line.

at the same time, a sliver of darkness detaches itself from the mass and lunges at you with inhuman speed, jumping into your path of escape and making a sound that sounds like a snarl and broken glass. you throw up a wall of fire instinctively, and it recoils with a shriek, darting back to rejoin the group.

donghyun pulls you away and you feel the shift in the air as donghyun communes with the wildlife around you. birds explode from the trees in a chaotic flock, and rats pour from the ground beneath the creatures’ feet. but the thing - the hounds, don’t seem bothered at all, swatting them away like they’re insects. donghyun flinches at the psychic feedback while your light blasts bounce off them like ping pong balls.

“go!” donghyun shouts, and this time you hit the ground.

but one of the hounds is faster.

a jaw clamps quickly around your ankle as you scream out in pain - it’s teeth piercing skin and it’s cold, slimy maws sink into flesh. you twist your body, trying to shake it off with heat blasts and anything you can throw at it - gravity, light, fire, but nothing works. your powers slide off it’s skin like water off glass.

“let go of her!” donghyun’s voice is a sound you’ve never heard before. it’s a far cry from the quiet, gentle donghyun you know. it’s louder, scarier, more afraid.

he’s on the creature in an instant, moving with a speed and ferocity you’ve never seen that makes your heart stop. the dagger he carries on him appears in his hand with a glint, and he manages to strike it in the side, and it releases your ankle with a pained howl, folding into itself as it tries to snap at donghyun. but he’s faster - pulling away and brandishing his dagger at the creature. there’s an intensity in his eyes that is terrifying - you’ve never seen him this angry, and you’ve never seen him this scary.

you stumble backwards, falling onto your back as your ankle stings - dark marks are already forming where its teeth sank in and tears springing to your eyes as the wound stings.

donghyun doesn’t give up. instead, he lunges at the creature with a growl and strikes it again, this time his dagger sinking into the place where it would neck would be, his other hand moving to grab the hound and squeeze it’s maws shut. donghyun’s eyes narrow and the creature howls in pain as it thrashes in his hold. 

“if you touch her ever again,” he says to the mass, trembling uncertainly, voice low and lethal, “if you even think about touching her, i will kill you, whatever the fuck you are. i’ll tear you into so many pieces that not even the birds will find you.”

the hound’s eyes roll back, and for a moment you think donghyun might actually go through with his promise and kill it. you’ve never seen him like this - tense like a strung bow and with an edge that hurts to touch.

“donghyun,” you say softly, and it somehow breaks whatever spell he’s under.

he releases the creature, pulling out his dagger, and it collapses to the ground immediately, gasping and twitching. donghyun’s head whips around to you, expression softening instantly.

“are you okay? did it hurt you?” he’s moving towards you, sheathing his dagger as his other hand reaches for your face, his eyes checks you over with frantic intensity.

“i’m okay,” you say, but your voice is still shaky, “we need to go. now.”

the mass is keeping their distance due to donghyun’s show of hostility, but you can see more shadows converging on your location.

“you two! get out - now!” heeseung’s voice is shrill in your mind, and donghyun and you stumble back into the treeline, the wound in your ankle throbbing in unpleasant ways as donghyun basically picks you up and drags you through the thicket the rest of the way back. the hounds pursue, but they’re slower than before, letting you and donghyun escape. the extraction point is chaotic - heeseung’s somehow packed up all the tents by the time you arrived with fascinating speed.

“car - now!” he yells at donghyun as he yanks open his car door and more or less dives in. donghyun pushes you into the vehicle and slams the car door close behind him - the moment the door clicks into place, the vehicle lurches into motion.

you collapse into the seat, gasping for air, and donghyun is immediately kneeling in front of you, cramped between the backseat and console.

“let me see,” he says, and this time his voice is back to normal - gentle, soft, and steady.

his hands gingerly cup your ankle as he examines it carefully. his jaws clenched when he sees the punctures - that are, thankfully, already healing.

“on a scale of one to ten?” he asks.

“around a five,” you wince, “might need medical attention.”

“what the hell was that?” heeseung hisses from the driver’s seat, “there was something psychic about them. hostile. it took me everything to keep them out.”

“i - i don’t know,” you take in a deep breath, “they looked like dogs - um, wolves, maybe. and they like - deflect all types of attacks. it kept sliding off or being absorbed.”

“god,” heeseung shakes his head, “we need to report back immediately.”

he taps a few buttons on his screen and you tune out the rest of his mutterings. you’re watching donghyun, feeling the way his hands are so gentle as he traces the outline of the injuries on your ankle, his eyes dark and intense.

“donghyun,” you say quietly, tapping him on his shoulder with a finger.

“i’m okay,” you squeeze his shoulder for extra conviction. 

he looks up at you, eyes fierce with unshed tears.

“h - hey. are you okay?” you lean forward and he swipes at his eyes and nods.

“i’m fine,” he says thickly, “i was just… scared. when that thing touched you, i - i got scared and snapped and -”

“i’m fine, don’t worry!” you point at your ankle, “see! it’s healing already!”

he pouts, but he doesn’t let go of you, his hand moving to simply interlock your fingers together as he sits back onto the car seat next to you, pressing his knee into yours and taking care not to jostle your ankle.

later, when you’re back in the mansion and there’s so much gauze wrapped around your leg you feel like a mummy, donghyun sits next to you, humming his tune to the birds perched outside the med bay window.

“the facility was a trap,” you hear heeseung mumble to sakura and sungho in the hallway, “i’m suspecting an elaborate scheme meant to hurt or trap mutants - we’re lucky we got out.”

“it’s a good thing donghyun was there,” sungho says at a volume he assumes you can’t hear.

you chuckle nervously when you hear them walk away, still muttering, “i didn’t realise you were so strong, donghyun.”

he pauses his humming and looks at you, serious, “i just… acted on instinct. i saw that you were in pain and just… moved.”

“i guess there’s still a lot of things i don’t know about you, huh?” you sigh, “sorry. i - i know you said you’ll tell me when you’re ready. but i can’t help but be curious - y’know? not that i’m pressuring you or anything…”

donghyun leans forward to brush a piece of your hair out of your eyes.

“[y/n],” he says quietly, hands still lingering by your face, “being with you has taught me a lot about myself. i just need you to wait for me, okay?”

you nod, “i’ll wait, even if it takes a thousand years.”

donghyun gives you a soft smile, “thank you.”

his fingers brush over your cheeks again before he stands reluctantly, “get some sleep - you need time to heal.”

you yawn, suddenly overcome with tiredness at his suggestion.

“alright. goodnight, donghyun.”

“goodnight, [y/n].”

he flips the light switch to the med bay and you let the hum of the machines lull you to sleep.

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

“so, what did you get?” you jump up from the bench as soon as donghyun emerges from sungho’s office, holding a silver letter in his hands.

“team 5,” he flips out his paper to you with a grin, “what about you?”

“oh, um…” your hand with the letter droop, “not - not team 5…”

donghyun’s expression shifts immediately, “where are you?”

he says, stepping closer and gently taking your wrist.

you open your letter, heart sinking as you display it to him.

“i got team 1,” you whisper.

“woah - that’s the elite team,” donghyun says - and you’re happy that at least he doesn’t sound sad.

“i know,” you bite your lip, staring at the words. team 1 is the most selective team, filled with some of the most powerful mutants at the school. people from team 1 see the x-men more than their classmates.

it’s everything. but it’s also not team 5 - with donghyun.

“[y/n], this is amazing,” donghyun says, and he sounds genuinely happy for you, “you deserve this.”

“but - but we were supposed to be on the same team,” you say, and you hate how small your voice sounds, “we were supposed to -”

“i know,” donghyun interrupts gently, “but you deserve it. you’re amazing.”

“but i wanted -”

“i know - but it’s okay,” donghyun says, squeezing your wrist, “we’ll still see each other. we live in adjoining rooms, remember?”

but it’s going to be different. team assignments dictate your schedule, training, missions - team 1 operates on a completely different level than team 5. you’ll be gone more, train harder, be with other omega-level mutants…

“donghyun -” you start, but he’s already pulling away, tucking his letter back into his pockets.

“congratulations, [y/n], really,” he says softly, and you hate how genuine it sounds.

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

the next few weeks is a blur of new uniforms, new teammates, and new routines that don’t include donghyun. for the first time in years, you go more than 24 hours without speaking to donghyun. it feels new, weird, but scarily free.

your teammates are good - amazing, even. wonhee can drop temperatures in a blink of an eye and minju can literally bring people back to life. but they’re also very, very not donghyun. none of them work and flow with you like donghyun does, and all of you are still tripping over each other’s shoes even when it’s week two already.

but for some reason, sakura decides you’re all ready to be sent out on a mission by mid-terms, trading the usual intersquad tournament with risking your life in literal combat against mutant threats - aliens that are more seasoned, more battle hardened, and extremely blood thirsty. 

you arrive back at the school a week later - battered, bruised, and freezing because wonhee accidentally turned everyone in the car into ice cubes when it suddenly travelled over an aggressive bump in the road and you forgot to bring your thermal patches.

the first thing you do when you step foot onto mansion grounds is look for donghyun.

he’s sitting by the large tree in the backyard, birds perched on his shoulder as he hums. you don’t even change out of your yellow spandex, opting to just brave the hill even if you’re out of breath and your ribs are throbbing painfully in a way they shouldn’t be.

“donghyun!” you yell, and he looks up from his notebook, smiling as he sees you approaching.

“you look like a real x-men,” he says, wonder in his voice as he pinches the stretchy material of your suit.

“well, i sure don’t feel like one,” you collapse next to him in the grass, pointing at the bruise on your cheek, “someone got me real bad here. punched me right in the face. i hit them back, obviously, but it still hurts.”

donghyun immediately shifts to get a better look at your face, eyes narrowing as he surveys the bruise. his fingers hover near your cheek, careful not to touch.

“does it still hurt?” he asks softly.

“only when i smile,” you grin at him to demonstrate and immediately wince, “ouch - okay, that was stupid.”

he reaches out and gently brushes a strand of hair out of your eyes, his touch feather-light. 

“you should’ve gone to the med bay first, they -”

but you can’t hear him, not when his eyes are wide and looking at you like… that.

“i missed you,” you blurt out, cutting him off and cheeks flushing.

donghyun goes very still, his hand stilling near your face.

“[y/n]…” he starts, but you’re already talking over him, rushing forward like a stream of water.

“i know we’re on different teams now, and i know that’s supposed to be good and important to our development or whatever, but it’s not the same.”

donghyun shuffles backwards slightly, “i missed you too.”

his expression softens and his hand reaches out again, this time finding your shoulder instead of your cheek, pulling you closer into his side.

“come on,” he says gently, “let’s get that checked out at the med bay. i’ll stay with you, okay? the whole time.”

“promise?”

“promise,” he affirms, “besides, someone needs to make sure you listen to the doctor. you’re terrible at following medical instructions.”

you frown, “that’s not true.”

“it’s very true,” donghyun knocks a finger down your nose before pulling you up, guiding you carefully towards the entrance of the mansion with his arm around your waist, “you came to find me before going to the med bay - i’m pretty sure that’s not following medical procedures.”

“i - i was just distracted thinking about… about coming back!”

donghyun’s arm tightens around you slightly, and when you glance up at him, he’s biting the inside of his cheek to suppress a smile.

“about coming back, huh?” he asks softly.

“thinking about seeing you,” you correct, then add quickly, “and everyone else too, obviously!”

“obviously,” he agrees, his voice full of amusement.

the med bay is quiet when you arrive, just one of the nurses on duty. she takes one look at your battered form, clicks her tongue, and immediately ushers you toward a bed.

“i need to examine her properly,” the nurse says, shooing donghyun away.

“i’m not leaving,” he says quickly.

she sighs and points to the corner, “chair. over there. sit.”

she pulls on rubber gloves with a snap and you gulp.

“alright then. let’s get those ribs looked at.”

your ribs are fractured, not broken, thankfully. the nurse wraps your torso carefully and applies salve to the worst of the bruises. by the time you’re done, the sun is starting to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that reminds you of lemonade. soon enough you find yourself back in donghyun’s room, squeezed next to him on his bed, and watching his fish again.

“you’re okay?” he says softly, nudging your shoulder with his.

“i’m amazing,” you try not to smile, because it hurts when you do, "so - tell me about what happened while i was away.”

donghyun hums to himself, "well, i went to the movies with dongmin and woonhak, and i found a baby bird whose wing hurt, so i took him to doctor lee’s to get checked out. i should - i should ask him soon whether it’s okay. and… right, there was also an explosion -”

"an explosion?” you interrupt, incredulous.

"yeah, it was… unexpected. dongmin said the people who attacked had an insider but sungho wouldn’t say anything about it,” donghyun clicks his tongue, “oh, and dongmin and his crush finally got together at the winter ball.”

“no way!” you push his shoulder, “finally?”

“finally,” donghyun affirms.

“ugh - literally everyone could see they were totally head over heels for each other!” you flop onto donghyun’s bed and he laughs softly.

“i can’t believe dongmin’s dating life is moving faster than mine,” you stare up at the ceiling.

donghyun’s hand, which had been idly tracing patterns into his blanket, stills. when you glance over, he’s watching his fish with a quiet intensity.

“donghyun?” you say quietly, smaller than you like - “are you okay?”

for the first time in a while, you don’t understand the emotions flickering in his eyes - and the fact scares you somewhat, crystallising like ice in a corner of your heart.

“i’m fine,” he finally replies, tracing a fish’s movement with a finger on the glass, “just worried about you.”

“i can handle myself.”

“i know you can,” his eyes finally find your’s, the unreadable storm clearing slightly as his hand inches near your’s in the darkness, “i guess it’s just in my nature to worry.”

you want to ask him what he’s worrying about - really worrying about. you want to ask why he pulled away that night in the dorm room, why he’s been so careful lately, measuring out his affection in small doses like he wants it to last.

but you've learned not to push donghyun. 

so instead, you sigh loudly, “ugh, really. what are we going to do with you?”

donghyun just smiles mysteriously and pulls down his pillow so it covers your face.

“hey!” you protest, muffled by fluff as you shove it away.

“try not to miss me so much,” donghyun says, nudging your leg, “when you’re an x-men, missions can take weeks, maybe even months. how are you going to deal with me not being around then?”

you huff - “i can manage! seriously, both you and joshua underestimate me so much!”

you turn on your side, deliberately facing the wall while donghyun just laughs teasingly.

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

donghyun is supposed to be studying.

he’s at his desk, his books and pens laid out in front of him, yet he’s distracted. 

every few moments, he glances back at you, snoring away on his bed without a care in the world. 

he ends up closing his notebook quietly and moving to sit next to the bed on the floor instead, watching the way your chest moves up and down under his blanket as you breathe.

“donghyun?” you mumble in your sleep, and he freezes, watching your face carefully for any sign of you waking up. your nose scrunches up slightly and he wonders what you’re dreaming about. him? the mission? home?

one of his birds land on the window sill and tilts its head curiously when donghyun reaches out to stroke its wing with a gentle finger.

she’s resting, he says to it, let her sleep.

the bird chirps softly in acknowledgement and watches for a few more seconds before getting bored and flying away.

“donghyun…” you say again, and donghyun shifts his attention back to you.

“i’m here,” he says softly, even though he isn’t sure if you could hear him in your dreams. he reaches out to gingerly brush your hair out of your face as you shift onto your side and bury your face into his pillows.

the fish tank burbles quietly in the corner of his room as he just watches you. that’s when he notices the way half of his blanket has fallen off the bed in your kicking and he moves to pull it back up, tucking it under your chin snuggly. you give a satisfied hum in response and donghyun stifles his laughter at your expression.

“what are you going to do without me?” donghyun shakes his head gently as he whispers.

he sits gingerly at the edge of the bed, taking care not to wake you up, and looks down at his hands, trembling slightly as he clenches and unclenches them slowly, methodically.

donghyun looks at you again - hands itching to reach out to comb through your hair, splayed out across his pillow. he had memorised the exact shade, and if he wanted to, he could count every strand. his mind was built for that - built for details, for precision, for the perfect execution of any task.

donghyun wasn’t built for love.

yet here he was, leaning on his arms and watching you sleep on his bed with a smile on his face and something indescribable in his eyes.

───── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ─────

“wait - you can’t leave!”

dongmin huffs as his shoes slap against the concrete behind you and donghyun, who have your hands full of two puppies that randomly scratched up your door this morning. the pomeranian in donghyun’s arm continues sleeping while the fluffy small golden retriever you’re clutching in your hands suddenly perks up at the sound of dongmin’s voice and starts wriggling excitedly in your grip.

“no! please, i’m going to - to drop you!” you plead to the puppy as you tighten your hold cautiously. your distress only seems to egg him on, his little paws scratching at your fingers as his tail begins to wag a mile a minute like a helicopter ready to take flight.

“woah - puppies!” woonhak yells from behind dongmin, stopping short and staring directly at them.

“what’s going on?” donghyun asks as you wrestle with your golden retriever, begging it to stop its ministrations and hoping it doesn’t pee on you.

“sungho and sakura want to see you two,” dongmin eyes the dogs warily, “now.”

“now?” donghyun pets the pomeranian in his arms, “can it wait? [y/n] and i were going to drop off the puppies with doctor lee.”

dongmin shakes his head, “said it’s a level 10 emergency.”

you and donghyun exchange glances. level 10 means drop everything and go - even if you have two lost puppies in your possession right now.

“what happened?” you ask, finally managing to still the puppy by pressing it against your chest like a fluffy rugby ball.

“don’t know,” dongmin shrugs, “sungho just looked me in the eye and said ‘get donghyun and [y/n]’. he looked pretty serious too.”

woonhak peers at the pomeranian sleeping peacefully in donghyun’s arms, “um. i can take them and drop them off - with dongmin.”

dongmin’s head whips around so fast and his eyes widen in the classic ‘wait, i didn’t agree to this!’ expression.

“that could work,” donghyun nods and dongmin groans.

“i’m going to be covered in dog fur,” he mumbles, “that’s so gross.”

but he takes the pomeranian that donghyun gives him anyway, cuddling it to his chest like he wasn’t just groaning about it a few seconds ago. you hand the golden retriever to woonhak, who get immediately attacked with wet puppy kisses and excited scrambling.

“woah! um -” woonhak holds the puppy away from his face like it’s a bomb, “hello to you too!”

donghyun smiles, “he likes you.”

“thanks?” woonhak’s voice is strained.

“be careful with them,” donghyun gives the puppies one final pat, “they’re still pretty scared.”

woonhak nods, suddenly seriously, “got it. good luck with whatever sungho has for you.”

one trip back to the mansion later, donghyun and you are situated in the war room with sungho and sakura, your mud-stained trainers very unsuited for the sober occasion.

“what’s happening?” you ask uncomfortably at the sight of their faces, stone-cold and serious.

sakura sighs, “we have some unfortunate news.”

she gestures at sungho, who pulls up a map on his tablet wordlessly, “we’ve received… some concerning information. joshua is missing.”

your heart drops to your feet, “what?”

“he left for a mission four days ago and haven’t checked in. the avengers have already dispatched a team, but they thought it was… necessary for us to know as well.”

sungho looks up at the two of you, his gaze moving between you and donghyun, “his last known location is an abandoned industrial complex just out of town - the same one from the beginning of this year.”

“you’re sending us to find him?” you ask, your mouth dry.

“you two are familiar, somewhat, with the facility and what dangers may lie within,” sungho swipes to a picture of the shadow creatures - retracted from your body cam the last time you and donghyun were there, “and because joshua trusts you two. you understand his habits better than anything else. if he is in trouble, you two will best predict his movements.”

sungho offers you the tablet, “since your mission, we’ve sent other mutant teams - the shadow creatures have shown up without fail, hostile to mutants. from our observations - it seems that the creatures are trying to capture mutants instead of tearing them apart - suggesting a large scheme behind it all. here - we’ve mapped what we can for you, but anything beyond the first floor… we have no idea what lies there.”

you take the tablet from sungho, “we’ll find him, no matter what.”

donghyun nods, his eyes flaring with determination.

sungho’s gaze flickers into something softer, “be safe. both of you.”

"and you know what the worst part is?” coach kim’s voice cracks slightly, and you cringe at the sight of tears springing to her waterline, eyes turning glassy, “i taught her how to choreograph! i got her her first coaching job - at the national rink! and now this is how she repays me?”

she stops abruptly and you suck in a breath, trying not to set her off if you breathe the wrong way.

“fine -” she says sharply, “if this is how she wants to play it, then so be it.”

you definitely breathed the wrong way, because as you exhale coach kim whirls onto you, approaching with a speed that alarms you as she waves her clipboard at you.

“you’re competing at senior nationals next month, correct?”

“yes, ma’am,” your throat is dry.

“good. i want you on that worlds team. not competing - winning, you understand me?” she has that glare in her eyes now, the one that means she’s planning something, “taeyeon thinks she can poach one of my skaters and get away with it? let’s see how much she likes it when her new star has to share a podium with one of my skaters.”

“but ma’am,” you hold up a finger, “sanghyuk is doing men’s singles and i do -”

“i know what discipline you’re in -” she snaps, “that’s not relevant. it’s about making a statement. it’s about proving ourselves.”

you wonder if your coach has gone slightly insane with heartbreak. coach kim takes your silence as agreement.

she storms back to her office, and you let out a quiet sigh.

she pauses and for a moment you panic over whether she heard your exhale.

she points her clipboard at you, “and i do not want to see you chatting up lee sanghyuk. texting lee sanghyuk. or even looking at lee sanghyuk. understand?”

you gulp, “but -”

“no buts,” she snaps, “end of conversation!”

the slam of her office door echoes around the ice rink.

you block sanghyuk that night - up at 11:30PM and scrolling through your text messages. photos from group hangouts, requests for money, and the occasional question and passing of news. deleting it was easy - it was nothing - it meant nothing. you unfollow him on instagram next, and block him on facebook too, as requested by coach kim. she gave you a thumbs up when you text the proof of your loyalty, and you can’t help but repeat to yourself: it’s nothing, just a guy who is no longer part of your life anymore. it’s like… graduating from highschool and deleting all the classmates you don’t care about.

that’s exactly what this is.

january, day one of nationals.

the next time you see sanghyuk is at nationals.

the moment you step onto the rink, your eyes zero in on him, dressed in his team korea jacket with earbuds in as he practices his off ice jumps in the corner of the arena. he looks the same as when he left you - still with the same cropped platinum blonde hair that subin used to say makes him look bald when it blends into the ice. you wince at the thought.

coach kim bristles.

“don’t look at him,” she announces to your group, and you see the younger skaters nod dutifully. you peel your eyes away before he somehow notices your obvious staring and hurry away to the locker room, your bag clutched in your hand as you brush past skaters warming up, coaches giving last minute words of wisdom, camera crew dangerously swinging around large cameras, and volunteers running around with boxes of water bottles in their hands.

the locker room is only just slightly less chaotic. with the smell of hairspray in the air and stepping over dropped hair accessories, you drop your bag onto the bench, pulling out your shoes and starting the journey of lacing yourself into your skates.

"this is so stupid,” subin whispers, her junior bronze medal dangling from her neck as she casts a quick look to where coach kim is fussing over wonyoung’s hair, "you and sanghyuk aren’t even in the same event. what are you gonna do? join the men’s singles competition and come in last place?”

you don’t answer, instead just yanking on your laces even harder.

"coach is even pettier than me,” subin mumbles in answer to your silence.

"it’s a matter of pride,” you eventually say, standing up and testing the feeling of being in your shoes - tight, structured, perfect. exactly how you like it.

"but [y/n] -”

"i’m gonna go warm up,” you interrupt, grabbing your water bottle and marching out of the locker room.

coach kim gave you a purpose. she shaped your life.

you nearly smack into sanghyuk and his new teammate - donghyun - while you’re emerging from the locker room. sanghyuk’s doing that thing again where he’s doing his best to laugh at a joke that doesn’t land to make the other person feel better, and then he’s poking fun at donghyun’s poor attempt at redemption. you shove past donghyun (which elicits a soft hey!) and stomp away as sanghyuk grabs donghyun’s shoulder and to pull him out of the way.

you weren’t going to betray coach now.

you say you’re practising, throwing yourself into the air like a spring wound up too tight on the rubber floor of the upper deck of the arena.

but out of the corner of your eye, you watch the action happening on the ice rink.

sanghyuk is doing his usual routine of crossovers during warmups, and coach kim is watching the rink like a hawk from her place in the spectator stands. you try to look uninterested, brushing past the other skaters that are huddled behind a pillar and whispering about the final group of male skaters.

"i think sanghyuk’s gonna win,” one of them whispers.

"no way, jaehyun totally has it,” another laughs.

“donghyun, anyone?” someone offers weakly.

“no way - he hasn’t even regained his quad toe,” someone else retorts, “my money’s on our ice prince jaehyun.”

you push in your earbuds as the crowd erupts into giggles.

focus, you chide yourself, you come first.

you ignore the rest of the men’s event, but you find out sanghyuk won the short program anyways when a gasp echoes around the stadium as his score appears. a new personal best - the announcer booms, unavoidable with its volume.

ignore him, your mental coach kim scolds as you stretch again, you’re literally going up next.

your competition feels like a blur. you wobble on the landing your opening jump which deducted points and caused looks from the judging panels, and you missed a level in your second spin because you got distracted thinking about the jump and missed a few rotations. when you skate away after your bows you barely register what you’re doing and what just happened, your brain buzzing from that post-program energy.

but coach kim greets you at the exit of the rink, a smile hanging from her face as she pulls you into a tight hug.

“that was good,” she says into your ear, pressing you tighter against herself, “you did exactly what i wanted to see.”

you just give her a tired smile and grab your skate guards out of her hands.

when your scores come in, coach kim cheers and wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“at least third place,” she says breathlessly, “we can do bronze. we can work with that.”

day one ended up with you stepping off the podium with a silver medal in your hands, after the girl who went after you fell on her combination, locking you into second place as you continue to fail to beat the reigning national champion (a work in progress - coach kim mumbles, scribbling harshly into her notebook - we’ll beat her one day, maybe even tomorrow).

your medal slaps against your rib cage as you hurry down the corridor. you’re slinking against walls trying to find a quiet place to catch your breath when you round a corner and nearly bump into someone.

“sorry -” you start, looking up.

sanghyuk.

he’s in his training clothes but his medal is still strung around his neck. you can see your own dumbfounded expression reflected in the gold and you quickly tear your eyes away.

“congratulations,” sanghyuk rushes out before you can say anything or run away.

“yeah, um. you too,” you try your best to squeeze past him, “excuse me.”

“wait,” he says, catching your arm, “are you mad at me?”

you tear yourself out of his grip, eyes staring at the floor, “that’s none of your business.”

“then why -”

“don’t” you say, your vowels wobbling, “just don’t.”

you run away as fast as your feet can take you.

you can feel his gaze still following you as you round the corner, gripping the ribbon of your medal in your hand so tightly it cuts into your palm with a slight sting.

minyoungkim celebrating my skaters 💝 thank you! you’ve made me proud.

you scoff at coach kim’s story, her arms around a younger you as she tags your instagram, in the corner is sanghyuk, deliberately cropped out of the photo but just enough to tick people off on who the third person in the image is. you quickly repost the story onto your instagram out of obligation before shutting off your phone, crawling out from under the blanket to charge your phone on the bedside table.

the silver medal stares at you as it lays helplessly on the table.

you stretch and stare up at the ceiling of the hotel, watching the ceiling fan make its rounds slowly. you think about the way sanghyuk’s voice cracked when he asked are you mad at me?, like he already knew the answer. you see his face when you close your eyes and he’s in the shapes of the fan’s blades.

you weren’t mad at him, and somehow that’s the worst part. it would be easier if you were.

you turn on your side and bury your face into the pillow. 

tomorrow is the free skate, you tell yourself, go to bed.

you probably stayed up for two more hours, rolling sanghyuk’s words around your brain like a candy that would melt, before exhaustion finally claimed you.

january, day two of nationals.

the pre-practice briefing is awkward. 

coach kim has a whiteboard and is armed with a laser pointer. she also has the energy of someone who also did not get much sleep, only for completely different reasons. 

you’re staring at your reflection in your room temperature coffee as coach kim continues to speak, gesturing like she’s about to conduct a military ambush, “[y/n], the judges gave your fairly good components score yesterday. we need to work on the axis when going into our axel. the spin level, i’m sure, was just a fluke. i expect all level 4s today, understood?”

you nod wordlessly and coach kim continues to ramble on. wonyoung catches your eye from across the table and shakes her head. she’s crazy, you see her mouth, and all you can give her is a non-committal smile.

your phone buzzes and you look down as the screen lights up on your lap. 

unknown: good luck today. congrats on silver yesterday. unknown: i got a new number bc you blocked me. pls don’t block me here :(

you know who it is, even without a name or a profile picture.

you turn your phone over, face down in your lap as you down the rest of your coffee and try to focus on coach kim’s barked instructions.

competition first. boys from your past later.

you go clean. you land your triple-triple combination you’ve been working on since last season cleanly for the first time in a while. your spins all score a level 4, as instructed, and you go away with a new season’s best and a bronze medal overall for your efforts.

coach kim nods like it’s expected - all according to plan, all according to what she has laid out for you. you can only clutch onto your bronze medal like it’s a lifeline and steal glances at the spectator stands, where sanghyuk inches closer and closer to subin and the rest of your teammates, desperately trying to catch your attention. you see his hand rise up when you wave in his direction, falling back down when subin yells out your name and gives you an enthusiastic wave back, a look of disappointment flashing across his face before he quickly looks away.

you don’t think about it too hard. 

the closing banquet is always awkward - a show for the cameras and journalists as skaters quietly file into the hall in their best formal wear.

your medals hang heavy around your neck as you continue to poke at your food halfheartedly. subin and the rest of the juniors are off dancing in the corner, feeling the music playing through the speakers that is far too upbeat for how tired you feel. wonyoung nudges you under the table with her knee.

“don’t look now. but to your three o’clock,” she warns, which, of course, immediately makes you look.

sanghyuk is sat at one of the tables across the banquet hall, sitting with the rest of coach lee’s team and talking to one of his new teammates. he smiles at one of the girls in his camp and you catch yourself frowning when she giggles in return. the horror of the realisation settles in is enough for you to turn your head back around and glare down at your plate with contempt at yourself (mostly).

“he keeps looking over here,” wonyoung whispers conspiratorially after her theatrical sigh and i told you not to look!

“so what?” you answer, with more bitterness in your voice than you wanted, “he’s no longer of concern to me.”

“oh, come on,” wonyoung grabs your hand, “you’ve known him since forever! surely you must feel some way.”

“just eat your food,” you grumble, stabbing your fish. your phone buzzes in your lap and you think about the text that’s been sitting in your messages since this morning. 

you try to recall what coach kim said this morning. about fixing the axel and selling your program more. about getting the right levels on your spins and the momentum you should carry into four continents. about her whiteboard and a whole flowchart of your next career steps laid out after careful consideration. you think about good, stable, and reliable things instead of fickle and unsubstantial ones.

your phone buzzes again, and against your better judgement, you look.

unknown: congrats on the bronze unknown: and going to 4cc!!

you watch as the three dots appear and disappear, blinking away for a few seconds before appearing again. 

unknown: yeah! congrats!!!

when you sneak a look over at sanghyuk’s table, he’s no longer chatting with his teammates or looking at you, instead just staring at his new phone, his thumbs hesitating over his keyboard.

he looks up in your direction, and you whip your head back and grab your glass of fruit punch, sipping it and staring at the spinning centrepiece vase of flowers until your heart stops drumming in your ears.

“you okay?” wonyoung asks in between delicate bites of broccoli.

“fine,” you grit your teeth, “i’m fine.”

the banquet hall is basically empty.

you stumble out of the hall, your medal ribbons all tangled up and your hair falling out of the elaborate hairstyle wonyoung put it in before. your drink that smells suspiciously like fruit punch and vodka is threatening to spill all over your only nice dress and you can barely tell left from right.

"this is harder than skating,” you hiss to yourself, stumbling around in your high heels and nearly slamming into a pillar that seems to have spawned out of nowhere in your drunken state.

"... minyoung, you can’t let it continue on like this.”

you stop short around a corner, before you can even acknowledge the conversation you definitely weren’t supposed to hear. you press yourself into a nook in the wall and listen anyway - because your room was down this way and you weren’t going to figure out a way around it while the world continues to spin upside down.

“i can do what i want, taeyeon,” coach kim’s voice is short, clipped, and simmering with anger.

"using your skaters as pawns? just chess pieces in your vindictive streak against me?”

"i’m coaching them, taeyeon. not that you would know.”

"coach? you’re torturing them, minyoung.”

"torture? i -”

"i’ve seen sanghyuk look at one of your skaters - [y/n], was it? she pays him no mind and i can’t help but think it's due to your machinations.”

"[y/n] is a grown woman. she does what she wants, and maybe she just doesn’t want to associate with a traitor.”

"that’s the word - traitor. that’s what you called me back then, too.”

the silence is so deafening and long you nearly peer around the corner to see if somehow they have evaporated into thin air.

“because that’s what you are!” coach kim’s verbal explosion thankfully stops you before you do, her voice raised to volumes you’ve never heard before.

“that’s because… you left me,” you can hear her struggling to lower her voice, pressing down til her voice is flat.

“i did what was best for me,” coach lee says, almost like a parent placating a child, “and that’s what sanghyuk did, too. you can’t fault the kid for that.”

coach kim is silent, and you can hear coach lee sigh.

“don’t let the children end up like us, minyoung. arguing in the corridors of a hotel, hating each other for nothing in particular. they’re better than us - we need to let them be better than us.”

coach kim doesn’t respond, and the air is thick enough to choke someone. the air conditioning hums in the silence and you feel the ribbons of your medal stick to the back of your neck, it’s fringes prickling against your skin.

you finally hear coach lee’s footsteps walk away, down the corridor. a few breaths later, coach kim’s own hurried footsteps, her high heels clicking against the marble of the floor.

you don’t move, stuck to the wall like fly on honey.

“[y/n]?”

you turn around far too fast and have to catch yourself on the wall, stumbling in your dizziness. sanghyuk is standing there in his fancy grey sweater, neck decidedly empty of his medals, holding two glasses of water with a raised eyebrow.

“i was looking for you,” he says matter-of-factedly, brow furrowing as he takes you in - heels in one drink, drink sloshing dangerously in the other, hair looking like a bird’s nest, “you disappeared.”

“no, i didn’t,” you frown, gesturing to yourself, the floor still swaying under your feet, “i’m right here.”

sanghyuk crosses over in two quick strides, taking your suspicious fruit punch concoction and swiftly replacing it with one of his glasses of water. you make a noise of protest but he gives you a look that makes you look down and sip quietly on the water instead.

“how much did you have?” he says, sniffing your cup before making a face of obvious disgust.

“not that much.”

“[y/n]…”

“wonyoung kept refilling my glass when i wasn’t looking,” you grumble.

sanghyuk lets out a breath that sounds like it might be a laugh, tickling the hair that falls around your neck. he reaches out to take the empty glass back from you, and he’s close enough you can smell his cologne - it’s the same peachy scent that filled your summers at the skating rink - the memory makes you tip your head back against the wall to look at him properly.

sanghyuk is good-looking, you think distantly. you’ve always known that in the same way you know facts about the world - the sky is blue, the ice is cold, flips are the bane of your existence, and sanghyuk has good bone structure. 

you’re drunk, you think to yourself immediately after, you’re being delusional.

“you’ve been avoiding me all weekend,” sanghyuk says quietly, cutting through your internal whirlwind, a frown playing on his lips.

“i wasn’t -” you hiccup in the middle of your sentence, “wasn’t avoiding you.”

“at dinner,” he fills in your silence, “you kept looking at me and then looking away when i noticed.”

you purse your lips. 

“caught me there.”

sanghyuk shifts, “so? what is it? do you not like me?”

“me?” you stop, pressing the back of your head against the cold of the marble wall in a bid to quell your headache, “he’s not - i don’t - coach kim told me not to.”

“i guessed,” sanghyuk says simply, running his thumb up and down the empty glass in his hand.

then quieter: “is that the only reason?”

you stare at him, the corridor comes to an abrupt halt. a muscle in his throat moves and he squints at you, like he’s trying to stare into your soul for an answer.

“forget it,” he eventually says, shoulders sagging, “you’re drunk. i - i shouldn’t have.”

“no,” the words bubble out of you before you can stop it, “not really.”

sanghyuk scoffs, but it’s non-committal when he looks at you - really looks at you. there’s a look in his eyes that makes it seem like he’s been carrying something but doesn’t want to anymore.

he peers at you hopefully.

“really?” he says, his voice soft enough that you ruminate on the question.

“yeah,” you put a hand over your heart, “and it’s not because i’m drunk right now. i swear.”

there’s a smile tugging on sanghyuk’s lips.

“i’ve liked you - since the first time we met,” he says, voice low and you gesture for him to speak louder, which he laughs at, “since the first time i saw you. you came off the ice at some b comp, and you were so mad at your scores. you said something to coach kim that sounded like you’ve already decided you were just going to be better than everyone who’s ever doubted you. and i just… that was it for me. i don’t know what else to tell you.”

you open your mouth, nothing comes out.

sanghyuk nods like you’ve said something anyways.

“you probably won’t remember this next morning anyways,” he says, more to himself than you.

he pushes the second cup of water into your hands, “you should drink more water,” he mumbles, gentle and resigned.

you don’t remember what happens next. just that you blinked and he was gone, a half empty cup of water in your hands and his footsteps echoing softly until you can’t hear it anymore.

you wake up the next day with a pounding headache, and an empty glass of water on your nightstand, with no explanation of how they got there. all you remember is the conversation you weren’t supposed to hear, and how unfortunate is that?

you're in line at the airport check-in when wonyoung taps you on the shoulder and squeezes into line next to you.

"sanghyuk’s staring again. bet he likes you or something," she whispers, and this time you look up, catching sanghyuk's glance from across the lobby.

his eyes widen instantly, and he quickly looks down, playing with the straps of his training bag with feigned interest as sungho continues to talk at him, pointing at the art pieces hanging from the airport ceiling.

when you turn back around, coach kim is staring at you instead, a raised eyebrow as she taps her foot against the marble floor.

"i wasn't -" you start.

"i don't care what you do in your personal life," coach kim interrupts, turning away pointedly, "just don't let it impact your performance."

"okay," you say slowly, "i won't."

the clerk calls for coach kim next and she steps up, placing her passport onto the table.

wonyoung nudges you, "what the hell happened to her?“

you try your best to give a nonchalant shrug, "maybe she remembered something.“

wonyoung shudders, "not used to her being nice. it’s weird."

its funny, you think to yourself, coach kim loosened the leash ever so slightly, and you’re already thinking about what to say to sanghyuk the next time you see him.

early february, one week before four continents. 

you corner sanghyuk in the training room.

"hi?" he squeaks, face still flushed from his workout and bangs sticking against his forehead, "is this allowed?"

you look back outside the training room. the door is slightly ajar and coach kim is instructing wonyoung while coach lee paces on the opposite side of the rink. everyone else is trying to squeeze in more practice into the last few minutes of ice time before the rink closes. you look back at him and shut the door behind you with a slam.

“probably not,” you say back. 

sanghyuk drops his towel over his shoulder, letting out a breath and glancing towards the door.

“is this a trap?” he jokes light-heartedly, “are you going to kidnap me back on coach kim’s orders?”

you cross your arms and frown, “i don’t like you that much, lee sanghyuk.”

“figured,” he mumbles, sitting down on the bench heavily, “so?”

the training room’s ventilation continues to hum loudly and music pours in from the outside, occasionally fading as the chords quiet down. you can still hear the sound of blades against ice and the heavy thump of the toe pick coming down. you watch as sanghyuk’s eyes briefly flicker towards the door and back to you as you step forward, towards him until your own knees hit the bench and you sit down heavily next to him.

“you blocked me,” he finally says, head drooping sadly beside you, “you even blocked me on spotify.”

“i had to cover all my bases,” you grumble, “wait - you were looking for me on spotify?”

sanghyuk looks away, “not important.”

“it was because of coach -”

“i know,” sanghyuk finally looks up at you, “i know.”

he stands up and brushes past you, “i’m… i’m just glad you didn’t block my new number.”

you blurt it out before you can regret it, “i heard something i shouldn’t have - after the banquet.”

sanghyuk pauses, his hand halfway to the door handle. there, he wavers. you watch the grip he has on the doorframe tighten and loosen as he grapples with staying behind or leaving before he hears something he shouldn’t have or doesn’t want to.

your hands tremble as they tense around the neck of your water bottle.

“you don’t have to stay,” you eventually say, “but i would like you to.”

sanghyuk chews on the inside of his mouth. he takes a step back into the room, his hand sliding off the doorframe.

“what did you hear?” he says, quietly with his back still turned. his head drops low, like he’s counting the flecks in the rubber flooring of the gym.

“i heard coach lee say something like… not to let this -” you gesture in between the two of you, “- end up like whatever happened between them.”

sanghyuk’s figure stiffens and then relaxes, like he’s releasing a sigh of relief. he finally turns around, dabbing at his forehead with the back of his hand as he sits down on one of the foam blocks near the door.

“i heard they used to be close,” he murmurs, casting a look at the door to make sure none of the juniors have decided to eavesdrop, “at least, that’s what i heard. i’m not sure.”

“coach said she taught her everything,” you cross your arms, “how to choreograph, her first job… and then apparently she just up and left one day.”

“that’s not fair to either of them,” sanghyuk says, with enough conviction it startles you slightly, “nobody except for themselves know why she left. coach kim probably doesn’t even know the whole truth - and that’s why she’s angry. it’s easier to be angry than to sit with the truth.”

you fidget in your sneakers. 

“you’re talking about yourself, aren’t you?”

sanghyuk looks up sharply.

“everyone kept asking me why - if i regret it, if i feel guilty. it made me wonder - is wanting something for yourself is just a betrayal? am i just being selfish?”

“of course not,” you blurt, “you’re just doing what you need to do. you’re allowed to want things.”

sanghyuk’s eyes soften, “you know.”

you fiddle with your hands, “coach always said you were destined for bigger and better things.”

sanghyuk winces, “i remember.”

"i guess she just didn’t realise it would be like this.”

the rink continues to move outside the door - a muffled round of applause, a shrill shriek of someone who slipped on the ice. 

“do you like it there?”

“it’s… fine,” his thumb traced over his knuckles, “the others are nice, the ice time is competitive, the music choices are… choicing.”

his eyes flicker back up to you, “sometimes i miss our group, and… i miss the people there, too.”

you can feel the unspoken words in between the lines, the ones that seem far too similar to that one conversation you remember hazily, and the ones that you never really noticed.

“we’re too junior-ish and immature,” you swallow harshly, “you’re better off with coach lee, with people like donghyun.”

“you sure?” sanghyuk smiles, “i think about it sometimes. whether i made the right decision, whether it was worth giving up what i had because i thought it would be easier.”

“you didn’t give up anything. it was all you - from the beginning. i knew it from the first time we met, since that time i got off the ice from the b comp and was rightly pissed about my scores.”

sanghyuk stiffens, “you remember what i said.”

“i do.”

“i shouldn’t have made the assumption you wouldn’t,” sanghyuk sighs, looking down at the floor again, “so? what do you think?”

“w - what do i think?” you stutter, suddenly caught off guard.

“yeah,” sanghyuk stands up slowly, like he doesn’t want to disturb the peace the two of you are momentarily in, “about what i said at the banquet.”

before you can even think about your answer, the training room doors creak open and subin’s head peers through the crack. her eyes go comically wide as they dart between the two of you.

“oooh,” she singsongs, the vowel drawn out far too long, “i’m so telling wonyoung.”

“subin!” you hiss, swiping at her even when you’re more than a meter away.

“your secret is safe with me,” subin slaps her hand over her heart before guestering behind her, “but coach is coming this way, so you better get an acceptable distance between the two of you before she flips out.”

sanghyuk sighs loudly and subin scrambles away, giggling as she does so. 

“later,” he says, one foot out the door and his ears embarrassingly red.

you pick up his abandoned towel and throw it at him. he catches it in one hand, letting out a laugh of disbelief.

“later,” you say, the word hanging between the two of you like a promise.

you skate out of your y-spin with more finesse you’ve had combined over the past two days. your thighs are burning in that way that tells you you’ve done something right and you’re alight with the buzz of adrenaline. your nerves feel frayed and your arm trembles from the effort.

subin whistles from where she is from the boards, wiggling her eyebrows at you and winking exaggeratedly when you look over at her exasperatedly. wonyoung remains blissfully confused, her eyes shifting between the two of you as she glides over, water bottle in hand.

“what’s up with you guys?” she asks, the sound of your skates on ice drowning out subin’s obvious giggle behind her hand, “you two have been acting so weird for the past hour.”

“nothing’s up,” you emphasise, grabbing onto the boards as you glare at subin, “i don’t know why subin is making such a big deal out of nothing.”

“oh, something is definitely up,” subin singsongs.

“what? did you catch [y/n] and sanghyuk kissing in the training room or something?” wonyoung says absentmindedly, taking a sip from her bottle.

both you and subin fall suspiciously silent.

“wait, really?” wonyoung’s eyes widen as her hand comes up to cover her mouth.

“no!” you blubber, slamming your hands onto subin’s shoulder, “sanghyuk and i were just… talking!”

“is just talking code for something else?” wonyoung blinks innocently.

“sure you were - ‘just talking’ my ass,” subin snickers.

“subin, language!” you scold, your cheeks tingling with shame, “and we were really just talking!”

“you can tell me anything, you know?” wonyoung whispers from behind her palm, “my lips are sealed.”

“i’m telling you - there’s nothing going on!”

coach’s whistle breaks up the conversation, and wonyoung and subin exchange a look that leaves you huffing and embarrassed as the three of you skate over to where the rest of the group is reconvening. 

someone hands you your skate guards. coach kim is yelling at everyone to get in a line, even though she really doesn’t have to because you do the same thing every friday session. subin and wonyoung jostle each other for the earlier place in the line while you hang back, letting the younger kids squeeze in ahead of you. coach is barking observations and comments at everyone as they exit the rink, a force of habit she can’t get rid of, or want to.

"keonho, have you thought about my suggestion to reconsider your music choice? ... no? you think its ‘badass’? ... well i don't think the judges will see it the same way. let's circle back on this tomorrow."

you wait your turn, at the end of the line as the rest of the skaters file into the changing room ahead of you with an eagerness that comes after a long skating session. coach kim pats subin on the back.

"subin! lovely work on that choreo sequence, keep it up, okay? we'll run through the step sequence tomorrow."

subin smiles brightly and coach moves on, grabbing onto wonyoung's shoulders and shaking her slightly.

"a little more oomph with the choreography, wonyoung. it's time to step it up! ... no, i don't care if you're tired. the music doesn't wait for anyone!"

wonyoung trudges off, mumbling about her sleep schedule as you approach coach kim.

"[y/n], you've worked hard today," she pats you on the arm, "i would appreciate a little more commitment to the jumps next time, alright? we’re going to land them, not maybe we’ll land them. understood?"

"yes, coach," your chirp dutifully as coach ticks something off her clipboard of observation and logs with finality.

"go get some rest," she says absentmindedly, thumbing through her pages, "i'll see you back here tomorrow."

"night," you roll your shoulders as the fatigue finally takes over, your body suddenly heavy and sore, and the cold from the rink bites into you even through your tights.

you're shoving your skates into your bag when your phone buzzes in your jacket pocket.

LSH: sooo about later LSH: can later be now?

you catch yourself smiling at your phone before reality hits you like a cold splash to the face. you sit down on the bench and glance around - the changing room is relatively empty except for some of the younger kids lounging around, waiting for their parents to pick them up and chirping excitedly amongst themselves.

you: now? you: in the rink? LSH: no silly LSH: let me take you out you: you do know every restaurant in a 50 mile radius is occupied by someone from the rink right LSH: i know a place… you: fine you: give me ten minutes

you poke your head out of the building, looking back and forth out the front door. the ground is covered in snow and footsteps from various boots and sneakers. the air is cold enough you can see your breath in front of you and the street lamp in the far off distance wavers as the harsh white lights of the rink continues to glare down on you.

“boo,” sanghyuk breathes into your ear, grabbing your wrist before you can jump up and slip on the snow-covered concrete - an indiscretion coach kim would’ve definitely executed you for.

“you scared me,” you hiss as the two of you scurry away from the door, shoulders brushing against each other - both deadly serious about not being caught within 10 meters of each other and your heads swivel like a ball on a stick to survey the area around you.

sanghyuk is bundled in his white puffer jacket, zipper zipped all the way to his chin as he rubs his glove-covered hands together. the tip of his nose is tinged red from the cold and he stuffs a hand warmer produced from his pockets into your bare hands.

“you look warm,” you mumble from behind your own jacket collar.

“i am,” sanghyuk says frankly, pulling out his phone from his jacket and taking his best stab at the screen with his gloved fingers.

“so, what’s this place you’re going to show me?” you shove your hands, hand warmer and all, into your pockets as you trudge behind him, leaving faint footsteps on the pavement with your boots.

“it’s a hole in the wall,” his footsteps slow down so you can catch up, “i used to go there everyday after practice - well, my mom would bring me there. she knows the owner, i think. it’s grandma’s friend? or a friend of a friend? anyways, donghyun said the food was too greasy, so you know no skater would be caught dead there. except for us, which means -”

sanghyuk looks back at you, blinks like he’s bewildered with the fact you’re still following him, and his neck flushes a light pink that you just about catch under the dim street lamps.

"mean what?” you laugh, "finish your sentence, sanghyuk.”

"nothing,” he mumbles, slapping a hand over the back of his neck as his pace quickens frantically.

sanghyuk hurried into an alleyway and didn’t look back for you, even when you wavered uncertainly at the alley entrance. not until he pulled a door that seemed like it was nearly falling off its hinges and beckoned you over did you scuttle down the alleyway.

the tteokbokki stall was awash in a warm golden light and the floor was appropriately tacky. steam heats up your face as sanghyuk pulled you down to a seat at the bar. he was right - there really wasn’t anyone you knew in the seats - just an elderly man reading a newspaper in the corner and teenage couple sat knee-to-knee near the door, whispering into each others ears.

the old woman behind the bar greets sanghyuk in a way that tells you they’re far too familiar with each other. she doesn’t say much, instead just plopping a steaming, heaping bowl of tteokbokki and a plate of fried mandu between the two of you before shuffling off towards the back, loudly announcing about how ‘sanghyuk-ie brought his girlfriend, dear!’.

“girlfriend?” you raise an eyebrow at sanghyuk, who is diligently unwrapping chopsticks with extreme care and deliberately avoiding your gaze.

“she says that about everyone i come here with,” sanghyuk mumbles, face red, “don’t read into it.”

“like donghyun?” you tease.

sanghyuk just pushes the bowl and chopsticks towards you, eyesight wandering elsewhere, “just eat.”

you pop a rice cake into your mouth and you understand immediately why donghyun would call it too greasy - it’s sweet and spicy and exactly the type of stuff you shouldn’t be eating a week out from competition. the mandu is probably the saltiest thing you’ve eaten this week, and god is it good.

“good?” sanghyuk asks, watching you with an intensity unfitting for… watching you eat.

“it’s fine,” you huff, even though you’re already reaching for another piece.

“liar,” he laughs, nudging you with his knee underneath the table.

he then proceeds to rest his chin on his palm, propped up on the table as he watches you eat out of the corner of his eye, his own chopsticks still wrapped in paper and untouched. you feel guilty enough that halfway through the bowl you push it back towards him and act uninterested enough for him to finally pick up his own pair of chopsticks, ripping apart the paper wrapping and digging into the tteokbokki.

for a while you sit there, awkwardly staring at the table until sanghyuk clears his throat.

“so,” he says, setting down his chopsticks, and turning to face you properly, “you didn’t give me an answer to my question in the training room.”

“i believe subin interrupted before i could,” you thrum your fingers against the lacquered wood counter.

“convenient,” sanghyuk flashes you an awkward smile. there’s no bite to his response, but rather a soft nervousness that makes it almost seem like he regrets asking in the first place, “so?”

you fiddle with a paper napkin, the corner already shredded from your earlier machinations as the same giddy nervousness from the hotel hallway overtakes you. in the background, an dilapidated tv drones on, replaying an old soap opera. the old lady behind the bar clashes with the exclamations from the characters by raising the volume on her radio, playing some old trot song you’ve probably heard before from your father’s collection. the bell above the door rings softly as the elderly man exits the store, and the soup behind the counter continues to bubble and boil.

“i spent the past weeks trying to block you on everything - messages, instagram, spotify - trying to avoid you in a stadium filled with hundreds of people,” you squeeze your eyes shut, “and none of it worked. you’re everywhere to me, even when i close my eyes, you’re right there.”

sanghyuk’s breath hitches - you catch it under all of the noise around you.

you open your eyes and force yourself to meet his eyes even as heat floods your face, “i didn’t want to say it because it felt like betraying coach kim. b - but yeah. not anymore.”

“not anymore?” sanghyuk prods.

you take a deep breath in, “i think i’m tired of coach trying to tell me who i can and can’t care about.”

a smile splits slowly across sanghyuk’s face, like a sun that peeks over the clouds. slowly, as if he’s afraid you’d bolt if he moved too quickly, he reaches out to cup his hand over yours on the table. his hands are colder than your own, and your heart drumming in your ears mirrors the rush of adrenaline you get when you nearly slam out of a jump on ice.

“for the record,” he says quietly, “i’m tired of that too.”

the old woman shuffles back, casts one look at your joined hands, and hums approvingly while refilling your cups. the two of you stare at her in embarrassing silence before she wanders away again, deliberately looking away as she whistles, all without a single word.

“so…” sanghyuk says, watching you cover his colder hands with your own. your warmth seeps into him, “what now?”

the ringing of your phone answers for you.

fs.session someone just spotted @ ynln and @ uriwoo_sh holding hands and eating out?? new couple alert??

“i promise i didn’t say anything,” subin whispers when you brush past her in the morning, your face set in a permanent frown.

“it’s fine,” you set down your equipment with a little more force than usual.

“i - i really didn’t!” subin pleads as she wrings her hands in worry.

“it’s alright, subin. i know,” you take a deep breath in, “you’re not in trouble.”

“i’m sorry,” she whispers.

“it’s gonna happen eventually,” you paused, “i just didn’t expect it to be literally right after.”

“[y/n] [l/n]!” coach kim shrieked from outside the locker room, “office! now!”

you sighed, “if i don’t come out alive, you know where i hid the money.”

subin nods solemnly.

when you enter coach kim’s room, she’s already pacing behind her desk.

“sit down,” she snaps.

she glares at you when you don’t, electing to just stand by the door.

“do you understand what you did wrong?” she waves a finger at you, “[y/n], you are my oldest student. of all people, i didn’t expect for you to do this to me.”

“i didn’t do anything to you,” you say lowly.

“what was that?”

“i said - i didn’t do anything to you!”

horror flashes across her face as you barrel on, “you’re the one who did this to yourself!”

“h - how dare you -!”

“i spent weeks tiptoeing around sanghyuk - pretending i hated him, because you said so. and then before that - jumping, competing, living - just because you said so! i did everything you asked me to - and more! just because you were my coach and i - i trusted you knew what was best for me!”

“that’s not -”

“why do you not want me to see him?” you stomp your feet in frustration, “so that you can feel like you’re winning over coach lee some way? that you finally have some sort of leverage on her? i’m just some sort of statement - pawn - in your game, aren’t i? but i’m not! i’m no longer a part of whatever shit you two have going on! i don’t want to be part of your feud - situationship!”

“[y/n], you’re not listening -” coach kim splutters.

“ten years,” you cut her off, “ten years you gave to sanghyuk. i get it, i really do. seeing him just walk away like that? it must hurt. i’ve always done what you told me to do - because i thought you knew better. but i’m not going to let you - let you just control me like this anymore!”

tears spring to your eyes as the room goes quiet - the humming of the air vents continues, the zamboni continues to truck along the ice, someone is blowing obnoxiously on a whistle. the world continues to spin as you and coach slow into a standstill.

“i do know better,” coach kim said quietly, her voice smaller than you have ever heard it, “i did thirty years of this. i know what it takes to be the best, [y/n]. what it takes to succeed.”

she thunders on, "you think this is all about me and taeyeon - and fine! i admit it! i am a revengeful, petty person! but do you know what happens to skaters who get distracted? they let someone else become the reason for their falls and pops and low scores. i’ve seen it happen. you’ve seen it happen - remember dongmin’s little girlfriend? she got distracted and now what? he’s dancing with another girl and all she can do is watch. i’m telling you, [y/n]. i do know better - i at least know better than you.”

she sits down heavily, breathing hard like her speech took the wind out of her.

“maybe,” you say quietly, “but you don’t get to decide who i love while you’re at it.”

the words land heavier than you meant it, and it feels daunting to say things you’ve never even admitted out loud to yourself before. 

"why?” she whispers, "why do you have to make everything so hard? why am i the only one with a brain around here?!”

"you might have a brain, but you also have a heart. we all do.”

coach kim stares at you, her face contorts - into fury - then mellows out into something like grief. she slumps into her chair, like all of the fight was suddenly yanked out of her.

“does he really make you happy?” she asks, voice barely a whisper.

“yes.”

coach kim grows quiet, looking at her hands as she turns them over, back and forth, like she’s debating with herself what to say.

“are you going to leave me too?” she finally looks up.

you ball your fist.

“if i have to,” you eventually say, “if you don’t agree, t - then i don’t see how this can work out anymore…”

coach kim flinches like you slapped her across the face.

“i don’t want you to leave,” her voice cracks, “you’re my first skater - the one i truly made my own. before subin, before wonyoung, before even sanghyuk. you’re my skater.”

“i get it,” your voice wavers and you hate how you sound like that seven year old kid who wandered into the rink for the first time, “it’s hard.”

“i’m not -” she stops, swallowing harshly before speaking again, “i’m not good at this - goodbyes - letting go.”

“i know,” you say sharply, "i’m not saying it has to be now. i’m just saying you have to stop letting me and sanghyuk be part of your feud with coach lee.”

coach kim is silent - long enough for you to start planning your post-competitive career because you’re certain she’s already drafting your notice of dismissal letter in her head.

she steeples her fingers and places her elbows on the table, like she’s trying to hide her face.

"taeyeon and i’s… unique situation - cannot be resolved in just one talk in an office. but if lee sanghyuk truly makes you happy… and you truly feel that way… then i suppose i can’t do anything to dissuade you.”

you hold your tongue, in case a tremor or breath betrays you.

"i still remember when the both of you were still training doubles. the two of you would rather giggle and hold hands at the edge of the rink and i’d have to yell at you two to get to work,” she says quietly, more to herself than you, "where did they go? now look at you - telling off your coach in her own office.”

coach looks up at you.

"sanghyuk -” she stops, ruminating over her next words as her jaw works, "- tell him to lace his skates tighter. he keeps looking like he’s going to fall out of them.”

you nod slowly.

"go,” coach kim mumbles, shooing you away, "i better see a clear entry edge on your lutz tonight during the runthrough. and if i ever catch you slacking because you stayed up all night giggling while texting him, lee sanghyuk is toast. understand?”

"yes, ma’am,” you try to stop your voice from trembling.

coach kim massages her head, "taeyeon was… right. i shouldn’t let you kids pay for what she - we - did…”

she glares up at you, "why are you still standing there? i told you to go!”

you scramble out of her office before she can change her mind, nearly bumping into subin and wonyoung who both tried to pretend they didn’t have their ears pressed to the door.

"are you okay?” subin buzzes with worry, "d - do we have to say goodbye?”

you smile softly, "no - it’s fine.”

"are you sure?” subin frets, "this isn’t one of coach kim’s sick form of revenge, right?”

you pause, "at least for now - sanghyuk and i are okay.”

you pat subin on the head, driving your knuckles into her hair.

wonyoung makes a face, "sanghyuk and i,” she parrots.

subin grins, finally letting herself relax as she wraps her arms around you two, "you two are gross.”

your phone buzzes in your pocket, you don’t even have to check to see who it is.

LSH: are we still on for tonight? you: only if you ask me nicely (but yes) LSH: y/n l/n, will you go on a date with me? :)

but no promises ;)

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