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nethhiri · 2 months

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Slipping and Falling

Security Guard! Zoro x Mermaid! Reader

One Shot - Modern AU

Warnings: none

I'm really proud of this one and I think it's so stupidly cute <3

The only thing worse than a mall cop was a nighttime security guard, even worse: a nighttime security guard at an aquarium. Not even a museum. Zoro had been the daytime security guard until he dozed off one too many times, then he was demoted. His boss, Mihawk, said that if he couldn't wake up for the day shift, maybe he was more suited for the night shift. He didn't say it was a demotion, but Zoro wasn't an idiot. This was probably his last chance before they canned him.

He breezed through the doors, already 5 minutes late. He threw open the door to the small security office, apologizing and straightening his uniform. "Sorry. My stupid roommate baked my keys into a loaf of bread again."

"That's either the weakest excuse you've had yet, or your roommate hates you." King already had his jacket on, ready to leave.

"The second one. Please don't tell Mihawk I was late." Zoro threw down some rice balls and chips from the convenience store down the street, his snack for later.

King snatched one of the rice balls. "Deal."

"Oi!"

King gave him a peace sign and flicked him off.

Zoro let out an exasperated sigh. His shift had just started and it was already off to a terrible start. He plopped down in the shitty folding chair and threw his feet up on the flimsy desk, watching the small black and white monitors that overlooked the exhibits. Only a few couldn't be seen, one of them being the new mermaid exhibit. The tech guys hadn't come to install the camera yet. Which meant that Zoro had to walk the halls every so often, making sure everything was fine. If something happened to the mermaid, he would definitely be fired.

He grabbed his flashlight from his belt, which also had mace and a nightstick. What the hell was he gonna do with some weak-ass pepper spray and a glorified baton? He walked through the aquarium, shining his light around the places that weren't illuminated at night. He jumped when he saw two eyes reflecting back at him. The mermaid's exhibit wasn't lit at night either. She was basically a person, she needed to sleep too. He tapped on the glass.

You covered your ears and frowned. The noise was amplified through water and it hurt your sensitive eardrums.

"Oh shit. Sorry!" Zoro put his hands up to signal he meant no harm. "I didn't mean it." The mermaid swam up to the glass and mimicked his movements.

As far as he knew, it didn't talk. The mermaid did understand language though. He watched you copy him. Zoro did a few more poses to see if you would copy those too. He ended with making some kind of funny face, pulling his cheeks out and his lower eyelids down. Zoro was disappointed when you didn't copy that, and could swear you were laughing at him. Huh. He continued his rounds and returned to the office. The rest of the night was uneventful.

The next few nights were more of the same. Each night when he stopped by your tank, he tried to make you laugh again, mostly to prove to himself that's what you were actually doing. Even though you didn't talk, you were obviously an intelligent creature. Tonight, he had a new game. Zoro wanted to see how smart you were. He also felt bad that you were stuck in that tank without anything to do and maybe this would be entertaining. He took three Solo cups and set them upside down on a cardboard box he brought over. Then, he showed you a piece of candy and put it under the cup. Zoro mixed up the cups slowly.

"Where is it?" Zoro watched as you pointed right away to where it was. "Nice. Ok." He grabbed the candy and backed away from the tank. It was nearly floor to ceiling. It was huge. There was a gap at the top where people went in and out to perform tank maintenance. Zoro aimed for the top and threw the candy into the tank, observing as it sank down and you swam to grab it. He laughed when you put it in your mouth and spit it out. "That's a sour one. Give it a chance." He laughed again as your face contorted with the sourness, relaxing a little as it got sweeter. You pointed at the cups. "So you liked that? Let's try faster." He went a few more rounds, giving you candy every time. Then, you disappeared, returning with three shells. You plucked a scale from your tail and stuck it to the bottom of one of the shells. You repeated his actions and looked at him expectantly. Zoro pointed at one of the shells and you turned it over, revealing no scale. "I meant that one." He pointed to the shell next to it and you flipped it. You grinned and took the scale out from under it, swimming to the top of the tank and leaning over the glass above him. Zoro caught the scale and looked at it in his hand. It was iridescent. He couldn't really say if it was blue or green or purple. It was kind of all three at once. “Thanks. I have to go now, but I’ll be back tomorrow, ok?” Zoro flipped the scale over in his hand, watching the colors melt together as he patrolled the corridors. He wondered what else he could entertain you with. You seemed to enjoy it a great deal. He wondered if you responded like this to any of the keepers or the guests of the aquarium.

Unfortunately, Zoro had to call out sick the next two days, some kind of stomach bug. The next time he came around to your tank, you were nowhere to be found. He was tempted to tap on the glass again, but he knew you didn’t like that. Instead, he threw some candy in, the kind he knew you liked. Zoro waited for several minutes, opening a bag of chips that he had brought with him and popping a handful into his mouth. You emerged, drawn out by the candy, after a few minutes, darting out to grab it and go back to your hiding spot.

”Oi! Where ya goin?” Zoro yelled through a mouthful of chips.

You shot him a look from around the rock you hid behind.

“What?!” Zoro was at a loss. “Did I do something?”

You pointed at him, then to where he stood, then behind you.

It took him a minute to remember, but he did. “You’re mad because I wasn’t here?”

You gave him a curt nod.

“Aw man I’m sorry. I did say I would be back, huh?” He ran a hand through his hair. “I was sick. I couldn’t come to work.”

You stayed in your spot, eating the candy.

”How can I make it up to you?” Zoro would hate to piss off the only company he had during these long nights. You coyly peeked around the corner and pointed to the chips in his hand.

“These?” Zoro held the bag out and you nodded. He couldn’t very well toss those to you. They would get soggy. He walked up the ‘employee only’ spiral staircase that went to the top of your tank. He didn’t like being up that high so he focused on looking into the water and not at the ground.

You swam up to the rim of the tank, hands grabbing for the chips.

”Okay. Okay. You have to eat them here though or they’ll get mushy.” He handed the bag over.

You carefully inspected the chip before biting into it, delighted by the crunch.

Zoro hadn’t been this close to you previously. He noticed the different tones in your hair, how it flowed around you. He saw the slightly different colored speckles in your Y/E/C eyes. Your skin looked so soft and there were freckles he hadn’t noticed from behind the glass. There was a slight grin on his face as he watched you enjoy chips for the first time. You were particularly fascinated by the crunch, biting them slowly to listen to the noise they made. Zoro sat with you and took the empty bag when you were done. “So am I forgiven?”

You looked him up and down before nodding slowly.

Zoro smiled. “Good. How about I come back with more tomorrow? Really this time.”

This time he kept his promise. Each day he brought you a new flavor. He figured out you didn’t really care for the spicy ones, probably because spice was a bit foreign to you, also explaining why human snacks were so intriguing. Maybe you would like the spice eventually. He would find you waiting at the top of the tank for your special treat. It was weird to watch you eat in silence, so he would tell you about his day or his roommate. Occasionally, he would tell you something about himself. You were a great listener since you didn’t talk.

Several weeks passed like this. Zoro had to take a brief vacation to help his other roommate recover from eye surgery; there was a tragic accident involving a stag beetle. When he came back, Mihawk was none too pleased. King had taken over Zoro’s shift, but kept falling asleep since he was usually a day shifter. Every morning during this time, Mihawk would come in to take over and find that the snack counter had been raided. It looked like raccoons had gotten into the packages. Curiously, the cameras hadn’t picked up anything. They moved periodically, panning around. It seemed like whatever or whoever was stealing, could avoid them. Nothing else was tampered with or taken. “Hey, shitbag. Hope you get the rat problem under control. Or Mihawk is gonna have your ass,” King slapped Zoro’s shoulder on the way out.

“How is this my problem?! It happened on your watch!”

”And now it’s your watch.” King laughed as the door shut behind him.

Zoro stopped at your tank, as was his routine now, and explained he didn’t have anything for you since he couldn’t get to the grocery store to restock. His eyes couldn’t be torn away from the disappointed pout that crossed your features. He was a bit ashamed to admit he really liked looking at your face. He wasn’t alone. Part of the attraction to the mermaid exhibit was your beauty. He didn’t like the idea he was the same as the people who paid to ogle you. He actually cared about your well-being.

That night the thief struck again. Zoro didn’t see a thing. Oh, but he heard about it the next day. Mihawk lit his ass up, calling him as soon as he managed to fall asleep at home after his shift. He accused Zoro of falling asleep on the job again. That wasn't true, but it's possible that he was distracted, daydreaming perhaps. He would have conversations in his head with you. He imagined what you might sound like and how you might speak. He liked spending time with you and he wanted to know more about you, but couldn't do that if there was no way you could communicate with him.

Zoro purposefully waited for King to leave before going in the back entrance. King would definitely taunt him over his shortcomings and he really didn't want to start the night that way. He was already in a bad mood since Mihawk woke him up just to yell at him earlier. Zoro sat heavily in his uncomfortable folding metal chair and slid down, knees pointing to opposite corners of the room, glaring at the monitors. He wasn't going to take his eyes off the screens for a second. He would get to the bottom of this just to rub it in Mihawk and King's faces that he could.

When it came time for his nightly rounds, he checked every door and every window to make sure they were all locked. There wasn't any evidence around them that pointed to someone coming in from those potential entry points. He looked up at the air conditioning ducts. Is someone really going to go all spy movie just for some snacks? There was a noise in the direction of your tank that alerted him to the fact that he wasn't alone. Quickly, he ran in that direction, putting his flashlight in his mouth so he could hold his baton in one hand and his mace in the other. The large, open room came into view and he caught movement in the corner of his eye. Before he could react, he suddenly lost traction under his feet and was tumbling backwards. The last thing he remembered was hitting his head.

His head was throbbing. Zoro groaned as he came to. Why am I wet? His entire back was wet, not damp, wet. He opened his eyes to soft light and a blurry, dark shape hovering over him. He blinked a few times, each blink making his vision clearer. A person? But there's not supposed- He pushed himself back, feeling around for his mace.

"Who- Who are you?" He made contact with his flashlight and flicked it on, pointing it in the direction of the shadow. Red eyes flashed back as the light from the flashlight bounced off the back of your eyes, reflected to him. His eyes slid from yours, down your body, and landed on your tail. "Mermaid?" What was she doing out of the tank?

You scooted closer, using your arms to pull you across the slick floor.

Zoro looked at the water all over the floor and back at you. Your hair was plastered to your body where it was still wet, but he could see some parts that were fluffier and strands that were blown around lightly by the air conditioning. That made him think you had been sitting here with him for longer than a few minutes. How long had he been out for? He looked at the ceiling, which was partially made of glass, so that the mermaid could have natural light. The sky outside was the dusty purple color of early dawn. His shift would be over soon. And King would be coming to take over. King is coming! Suddenly, he was panicking.

"We have to get you back in the water!" If King saw the mermaid like this, Zoro's ass was going to get canned. Zoro crouched in front of you, about to slip his arms under you so that he could carry you back to the water. He paused. "Oh... Um. Is it ok? Do you mind if I...?"

You opened your arms up to reach for him.

He took that as an invitation, scooping you up bridal style. Your arms wrapped around his neck for support. Zoro didn't want to slip again, but he had to hurry to get you in the tank and all of the mess cleaned up before King got here. He jogged up the stairs to the top of the tank and gently dipped you down in the water. "Stay." He had no fucking clue how you got out, but he needed you to stay in. He zipped back down the stairs and hurriedly grabbed a mop from the janitorial closet, getting all the water dried from the floor. Zoro ran around the rest of the aquarium, making sure nothing happened while he was knocked out. Everything seemed to be fine.

Zoro had just headed back to the security office when King came in to take over the shift. Just in time. He breathed a sigh of relief and then immediately started thinking about how the fuck you got down to where he was. Did you jump out of the tank? Crawl down the stairs? He was thinking about it until he went to sleep for the day.

He came in early the next evening. The aquarium was still open and he went to see what your exhibit looked like when it was still open. The tank was big, but he wasn't quite convinced it was big enough for a creature like yourself. He watched as some guy banged on the glass with his hand. Zoro instantly frowned, knowing that you hated when people did that. He walked over and grabbed the man's wrist, pulling it away from the glass and thrusting it into the man's own chest.

"Stop that." Zoro glared at the man. "She doesn't like that."

The man looked him up and down. "Who the fuck are you? Her keeper?"

"Actually, yeah. I am. So cut it out or you'll be escorted out."

The man grumbled but didn't do it again.

Zoro stood in front of the glass, eyes searching for you for a moment, finding you with a sweet smile on your face. You made the slightest nod in his direction, thanking him for putting an end to the horrible noise. Zoro stuck around until the people cleared out, making sure it didn't happen again. The last two people were a couple, who couldn't be bothered to stop their heavy petting after the two minute closing warning. You were staring curiously at them. He shooed them off and waved at you as he went to clock in and trade off with King.

There was some paperwork he had to take care of which delayed his usual stroll to your tank. It was about an hour past his usual stop in his loop. As he approached, he could hear shuffling and some crinkling. It stopped suddenly when his shoes make a squeak on the tile flooring. He cursed under his breath, inching forward slowly. There was the hurried sound of crunching followed by the slap of feet against the floor.

"Stop! Thief!" Zoro yelled after the footsteps, nearly eating shit on the wet floor again. "Where the fuck is all this water coming from?" He ran down the hallway, then back up the hallway, then did a full loop, and stopped. He didn't hear the footsteps anymore. "Dammit." He snuck around more quietly on his way to get a mop. The thief had to be somewhere. He cleaned up the mess without any further sign of the intruder. Curiously, the snacks that were eaten included some of the flavors of chips he had brought you. That just meant the thief had good taste in snacks. Only two bags were eaten, so he wasn't worried about actually continuing his hunt. He could cover that up. Mihawk could shove it. All he cared about was getting to your tank. Zoro sighed. Now, he was really late. You were going to be mad at him.

As it turned out, you weren't. Especially since Zoro had brought you something new to try. He was beginning to feel guilty. What if these foods were really bad for you? What if they made you sick? He also couldn't resist seeing the way you lit up when he came around with your nightly snack, or your pout when he pretended he forgot it, so he would continue to spoil you. Zoro climbed to his spot at the rim of the tank. You were already there waiting with your hands held out in a bowl-shape.

"Didn't we talk about begging?" Zoro tsked at you.

You held your hands out more demandingly and furrowed your eyebrows.

"Jeez. Okay, here you go." Zoro placed some incredibly misshapen small chocolate chip cookies in your hands.

You gave them a curious sniff before putting all of them in your mouth at once, filling up your cheeks.

Zoro chuckled. "You remind me of my roommate, who I had to fight off by the way, to get these to you." He averted his eyes for a moment and his cheeks turned pink. "I, um, made them myself." At the cost of shining his other roommate's work shoes for a week, he helped Zoro out with the baking. When he turned back, you were holding your hands out again and licking the crumbs from around your mouth. He grinned. "So you liked them?"

You nodded. Reaching your hands out further. As he leaned down to put more in your hand, you caught sight of the pink in his cheeks. Reaching out curiously, you poked and pinched at his cheek. You didn't know humans could change color.

Zoro jerked back. Not that he was afraid of you, he was just taken aback by your sudden interest in something other than food. "What? Is something on my face?" He only turned a deeper hue, cheeks burning red.

You placed your palm against his cheek, feeling the warmth in it. Humans were a lot warmer than you thought. With the other hand, you continued to munch down cookies. You offered the last one back to him, noticing that he didn't eat any.

Zoro wasn't aware that you knew the concept of sharing. "Thanks." He popped it into his mouth, stretching to swat a crumb out of your hair.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, just like those people from earlier.

He pushed you, very gently, back. "Whoa! Hey, what are you doing?" If Zoro's cheeks were red earlier, now they were purple. "That's for- That's just for people who um-" He saw a hurt look on your face. "No, don't do that. It's okay!" He patted your hand and explained. "You can't just do that. That's called a k-kiss and um, it's for two people that really like each other."

But you did like him. Did he not like you?

You still looked hurt. "Um, here, okay." Zoro knelt by the tank, getting his knees wet from where you had dripped. He held his arms out and waited until you copied him. "We're friends. So this is what friends can do. It's called a hug." He circled his arms around you, very lightly squeezing. You did it back, except you were not very gentle about it. "Oh, wow, you're a strong one huh?" Zoro let go, waiting for you to do the same. He waited some more. "You can let go now." There was a funny look in your eyes, and your smile was awfully sinister for a sweet mermaid.

You pushed back from the edge of the tank, dangling his car keys in front of you.

Zoro felt his back pocket. "What the-?" He laughed. "You little shit." He motioned for you to come back. "Give those back!"

You shook your head.

"Please!"

You looked at him expectantly.

"I'll bring you more cookies tomorrow?"

You threw his keys back to him with surprising accuracy and he caught them in midair.

Zoro shook his head to himself, walking back to the security office. He couldn't stop thinking about how soft your lips were.

For the next few days, nothing eventful happened. Zoro had racked up multiple weeks of doing Sandi's chores, just so he could learn to make a few more different cookies for you to try. Why was he doing all this? He told himself it was because he felt bad that you were trapped in a tank for the rest of your life. And he did feel bad about that, that part was true. Selfishly, he wanted you to like him. Tonight's batch hadn't gone well. He wasn't looking forward to breaking the news to you. Zoro hated seeing disappointment on your face.

He was shocked when you were nonchalant about it, and a touch suspicious. Later, Zoro remembered that he stored an extra snack in his backpack and retrieved it to give to you. Again, he heard the telltale crinkling of a chip bag. This time, he would get the thief. Zoro must have startled them somehow even though he didn't make a sound because the thief took off running. He kept up this time, barely making out a shadow in the dark. As soon as he got close enough, he tackled the person, fingers brushing against bare, wet skin. What's with everything always being fucking wet!?.This person was... nude? What kind of sick pervert-? His thoughts were evaporated from his mind when he saw that it wasn't just any random naked person. It was you. "MERMAID?!" He looked down. "But there's legs and- a-and-!!!" Zoro got up faster than he'd ever moved and covered his eyes. "S-stay right there." He turned around and ran to his backpack, where he had a change of clothes for the gym.

Zoro came back with a T-shirt and boxers, practically throwing them at you. From the top of his head to his neck was red. It turned out that your bottom half could turn into a human's, in every way. Funny, when you had a tail, your naked top half, covered by your long hair, didn't seem scandalous. With a naked bottom half, the naked top half was painfully obvious.

"A-are you covered up?" Zoro peeked to make sure before dropping the hand over his eyes. "I'm so sorry for- for seeing and um... Sorry!" He felt bad about tackling you even though you weren't hurt. He offered you a hand to get up. Now it made sense. Every time he forgot a treat or was late in getting to you, the thief struck. It had been you all along. And the legs explained how you were able to get out of the tank, too.

You were wobbly upon standing, as you always were when you got your legs. You grabbed his shirt for balance as you stumbled unsteadily forward.

Zoro gave you his arm to hold while you slowly gained control of your legs. He tried not to think about how cute you looked wearing his clothes, leading you toward the fish tunnels, where there weren't cameras. "I think you already understand, but you can never let anyone else see you like this, okay?" There was concern in his eyes. Zoro was certain they would turn you into an even bigger sideshow attraction than they already had. "And you have to stop stealing food or I'll be fired." Zoro held out the chocolate bar he had found in his backpack, yanking it back when you reached for it. "Mermaid, show me you understand." Zoro only relinquished the candy when you nodded.

Tearing into the packaging, you discarded it on the floor, holding the chocolate in your bare hands.

"Oi! You're gonna get it everywhere." It was too late, as he saw the brown staining your hands. He sighed. "Never mind."

You laughed at his alarm.

"So you think it's funny, huh?"

You nodded, popping another piece into your mouth. Your hand reached playfully to smear some on his cheek.

"Don't do that!"

You giggled again.

He really couldn't be mad when your eyes were glittering with joy and your giggling brought a stupid grin to his face. He wiped off the chocolate and licked his finger.

After the last bite, you looked at the mess on your hands and wiped them on your shirt, to Zoro's horror.

"Oi! What's wrong with you?! Quit that!" He grabbed your hands. "What are you? An animal?" He dragged you to the bathroom to wash your hands.

You thought about it and nodded.

"No! You're a person." Zoro stood behind you and guided your hands. It made sense that you had never washed your hands before.

Watching the water made you thirsty. You bent down to drink out of the sink.

Zoro practically jumped backwards when your hips moved back against his. "H-hey. We'll get you some water. Come on." He knew you were unaware of what you were doing. It wasn't on purpose. He was ashamed at the thoughts that entered his brain at that second. Pushing them away, he grabbed your hand again and brought you to the water fountain, where he demonstrated how to use it.

After that, he followed you as you walked through the nearby exhibits, the ones without surveillance. Zoro watched as you excitedly pointed towards some fish. You stopped in front of one of the larger tanks, putting your hands against the glass and smushing your face against it. This tank was much larger than yours because it held whale sharks. Your smile slowly fell into something more somber as you yearned to go back home. You missed the wide open ocean.

As dawn approached, Zoro led you back to your tank, gesturing for you to go back.

You shook your head.

"What do you mean no? You have to." Zoro hadn't seen you like this before. You weren't your normal perky, sweet self. "What's wrong?"

Your lip quivered. You pointed to the doors and yourself.

"You want to leave?"

You nodded.

Zoro scratched his head. "You can't leave. I- I wish I could help you."

Tears spilled over the rims of your eyes.

"Oh no. No. No. Don't do that." Zoro looked around as if there was someone else that could comfort you. Relenting, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into him. "I'm sorry, mermaid. I really am." He felt you shake with sobs, gently sitting down with you on the floor. He ran his hand over your hair, thinking about how much of a loser he felt like. He let Mihawk and King walk all over him. Zoro hated this job. The only thing that made it tolerable was you. So why did he care so much about keeping it? Money and the ability to see you. He could find another job, but he couldn't find another you. "Mermaid, give me some time. I'll think of something. Okay?"

You pulled your head away from him, with a sliver of hope in your red-rimmed gaze. You nodded.

Zoro helped you out of his shirt, which you got stuck in trying to take off. He shut his eyes and turned around while you slid his boxers off and jumped back into the water. He squatted down and put his hand on your cheek, rubbing it with his thumb. "Stay." He said it tenderly, but he meant it. Zoro couldn't have anyone else finding out about your secret.

Over the next few days, Zoro thought about how he could smuggle you out. If you disappeared and he never came back, it would be pretty obvious who stole you. If you disappeared, he would be fired anyway. He put that plan on the back burner and thought about how he might be able to improve your current living situation.

"Don't you think the mermaid should be in a bigger tank?"

Mihawk looked over his newspaper at Zoro. "Oh so you're a marine biologist all of the sudden." He was about to leave for the night but wanted to finish his articles first.

Zoro rolled his eyes. "No. I just think the mermaid looks kinda sad lately."

"You won't have to look at her sad face much longer."

"What? What's that mean?"

Mihawk lowered his paper once more. "Oh. You haven't heard? She's being transferred to a government facility."

"Why!?"

Zoro's boss eyed him suspiciously. "Why do you care? Have a crush?"

"Oi! Shut up, man. A guy can't feel bad for a creature that's nearly human being imprisoned? How would you like it?"

"I think if you feel bad for imprisoned creatures, this job isn't for you."

"Yeah you're fucking right about that." Zoro was heated.

Mihawk threw his paper on the desk. "Because you care so much, they want her for research." Before Mihawk clocked out, he tossed over his shoulder. "Say goodbye to your little fish friend. She's leaving tomorrow."

Zoro was sweating with this new information. Tomorrow! He hadn't come up with any kind of plan. Maybe he could ask Luffy and Sanji if they would help. No, he couldn't ask his roommates to be accomplices. He avoided you until the last remaining hour of his shift, unsure how to tell you what was happening. Seeing you cry again was going to break his heart. Hell, his heart was already breaking because he knew he had no way to save you. He couldn't break you out of here, and he certainly couldn't steal you from a government facility.

Zoro found you in your usual spot, waiting for him. You seemed to be in better spirits, which made it harder for him to tell you. He sat on the edge of your tank, setting his backpack down. He had planned to leave right after. "Listen." He let out a deep sigh. "I don't know how to tell you this but they're moving you out of here t-tomorrow." Your face brightened and you pointed to the door. He smiled apologetically. "No... not out out. You're being transferred somewhere else." He could see your eyes get glassy. You pointed to him, then yourself, then the door. "I- I can't. There's no way." Zoro held his head in his hands and apologizing over and over again.

You pushed yourself up to sit on the edge of the tank as well, wrapping your arms around him. The two of you sat like that for some time. Zoro ran his hand through your hair, trying to memorize the way it felt before he had to say goodbye. You leaned your head on his shoulder, staring into his gray eyes. He shifted so that you could face him better. Leaning forward, you paused, as if asking permission, and Zoro didn't stop you as you pressed your lips to his again. His hand tangled in your hair, pressing you deeper into the kiss. He let out a startled noise when you bit him on the lip and you felt heat rise to your cheeks as you broke the kiss and looked away bashfully.

"No. No. It's- It's okay." Zoro's voice was low and raspy. "Do it again."

You did as he asked, lightly biting him on the lip, and he returned the favor. You pressed your tongue into his mouth, running it alongside his own. He groaned. Now! When he was fully distracted, you tugged him into the water with you. His eyes widened in terror as you pushed him to the bottom of the tank, sucking the rest of the air out of his lungs. You broke the kiss and touched the side of his face lovingly, watching him flail as he fought to break free from your grip. You petted his hair as he had done to comfort you. Only a minute or two more before he became unconscious. It hurt you to do it, but you couldn't live like this anymore. You had waited for him, though that didn't mean you couldn't also think of a plan in case he failed.

When King came in, not long after, he immediately noticed something wasn't right. None of the lights were on. The power was out. He rushed to the emergency generator and powered it on. All the pumps to the tanks were connected to it in case something like this happened. Without the backup power, it would only take a few hours for creatures to start dying off. With it on, some of the lights flickered back on. The generator only powered the most important electronics, not the cameras. Naturally, the first thing King did was check on the most valuable assets. While his eyes scanned your tank, trying to find you, they instead found Zoro floating at the top of the water.

Within 15 minutes, the aquarium was swarming with first responders. In the chaos, no one noticed someone in a gym shirt and boxers run out the front doors, all their attention on Zoro. Nor did they notice the drying puddle near the main circuit breakers, located unwisely next to the mermaid's tank.

Zoro had no fucking idea what happened. He thought it was just a nightmare until he woke up in a hospital. They said someone broke into the aquarium and stole the mermaid. They shorted out the main power so there was no security footage. It was assumed that Zoro was defending the mermaid when the attacker got the upper hand on him. Mihawk had left him a message wishing him a speedy recovery and to take his time coming back to work, in fact, maybe he shouldn't come back at all. He was cleared for discharge after a day with some antibiotics to prevent pneumonia from setting in.

When he came back to his apartment, Sanji greeted him from the kitchen. "Hey, assface. Your girlfriend has been waiting for you for a whole day now. What the fuck is wrong with you? Making a girl as pretty as her wait? I don't even know how you managed to pull someone like her." He was half-pouting as he said this.

"Girlfriend?" Zoro didn't have a girlfriend.

"Yeah she was in your clothes. She's your girlfriend isn't she? While you were busy laying your lazy ass in the hospital, she showed up looking for you. Well, I assumed so. She doesn't talk much."

Zoro didn't wait for the blonde man to finish before running into his room.

Luffy piped up from the couch, calling after him. "Tell her to quit eating all my snacks!"

When he opened his door, you were sitting in the middle of his bed, surrounded by empty snack wrappers. His previously white shirt, now on you, was covered in orange and brown snack residue fingerprints. Your entire face lit up upon seeing him. You jumped from the bed and ran to him, throwing your arms around him and peppering kisses all over his face.

"Oi!" He pushed you back lightly. In a quiet voice he hissed, "You drowned me!"

You nodded happily and bounced on the balls of your feet in an excited way. You pulled him back down and rubbed your nose against his.

The pieces gradually fell into place. "This was your plan." He grabbed your face as you nodded again. "I knew you were fucking smart." He pulled you in for a hug before kissing you.

You pulled away, grinning. You were hyperventilating with excitement and working up courage.

"Easy. Breathe. " Zoro could see you were trying to communicate something. "What is it?"

"S-s-s." You furrowed your brows.

Zoro's eyes widened. He didn't think you could speak.

"S-stay." You pointed to yourself, soft, hopeful eyes tilted towards the green-haired man. "Stay?"

A reassuring grin crept across his face. "Stay." He pulled you in for another hug, resting his chin on your head.

#one piece #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #mermaid #x reader #zoro x reader #oneshot #one shot #fanfic #fanfiction #Mermaid!reader #one piece AU #AU #mermaid AU #king the wildfire #hawkeye mihawk

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stormyweaver · 2 months

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First Time For Everything || (Part 2/??)

NOTES: I'll add the title to my first part posted here, but I'm just so dang giddy to finally get chapter two up! No idea when I'll have the next part finished (I'm still figuring out where I wanna go with this little story) but I hope you enjoy this next installment!

TW: mess, brief mention of gore and potential contagion towards the end

“Hhhh? Ehh- hHEH!...”

Vox’s frantic inhales stalled on the apex and, once again, the urge to sneeze fizzled out into a frustrated - and frankly exhausted exhale.

It had been like this ever since he’d first started sneezing. He’d repeated the action a few more times on his walk with Alastor, and each one had been as equally full-bodied as the one preceding it. His torso ached all over, especially his chest and neck, not to even mention how dizzy the intense outbursts left his head. Not long after the sixth sneeze did Vox begin to try and actually stop what felt like an inevitable reaction, which had worked… somewhat. He’d managed to swallow down the urge enough to stop himself from performing the act of sneezing, but he’d done absolute jack-shit to stop himself from hitching and gasping like a fish flopping atop a sun-bleached deck.

And every time he raised a hand to scrub - fruitlessly, might he add -at the center of his screen, Alastor’s amused snicker would cause his muscles to tense. His companion had no qualms about enjoying his palpable misery - he was probably soaking up the waves radiating off of him. Actually, he had no doubt that that was exactly what Alastor was doing. It seemed that the more Vox sniffled, coughed and groaned from his malady, the more Alastor appeared to perk up. Fucking energy vampire.

As if speaking of the devil, Alastor released an inquisitive hum. “My my - I’m surprised you haven’t asphyxiated from all that gasping! Such a shame.”

Cyan-tipped claws rose to press along the front of his throat, which he cleared several times in the hopes that it would somehow clear away the gunk lining his throat. At least enough for him to speak clearly. “I think you’d enjoy that a little too much.”

Vox immediately winced after finishing his retort, and he could have sworn even Alastor appeared a bit surprised. He hadn’t done much… or any talking after the ‘discovery’ of his illness had taken place. Which in itself was odd but Vox had been too preoccupied sneezing or gearing up to a sneeze, or trying to stop sneezing to act as much of a conversationalist.

However, he slightly regretted speaking now: his voice was downright awful, a raspy quality and his consonants were heavily muddled with congestion. That he had expected, but what really reinforced his sorry state was how it sounded as though he was speaking through a faulty speaker. Or an old timey radio…

The thought brought a small bit of amusement, but it was dashed when he realized that even Alastor somehow managed to sound good through shitty audio. He just sounded… well, sick. And broken. Vox scowled ahead.

He would have kept walking had Alastor not whipped the length of his cane in front of him, causing Vox to flinch. “What’re–

“Ah, here we are!”

Brows furrowed, Vox finally looked up at the building they had stopped in front of. It appeared to be a diner of sorts. It wasn’t really all that distinguishable from other places he’d seen in Hell, besides having a more dated feel than some of the other areas in Pride Ring. But they were on the outskirts, near Cannibal Town, and after learning how frequently Alastor visited that particular area, it didn’t surprise him when they would wind up somewhere in the vicinity.

The building’s exterior showed a few signs of age - chipped paint here and there, but otherwise it just looked older versus not having been taken care of. The brickwork was still in fairly good condition, besides some moss growing along the left lower corner. There were two baskets of flora hanging on each side of the entrance/exit, but they appeared slightly wilted - from either lack of care or by design, Vox couldn’t be sure. It had a small awning just above the doors, with the name Devil’s Diner in a scrawl that Vox found a little… well not tacky but, just not one he would have chosen for an eatery.

It struck Vox as a decent place overall, just from a different time period. Well kept, while a little tattered in seemingly all the right places. Yeah, now it made sense why Alastor wanted to go here.

Once they were inside and seated, Vox groaned as he lowered himself down. He was thankful to just be off his feet, what with the long walk they had made just getting to this place. His head still felt like it was filled with a bag of wet sand, and his hearing was slightly obscured from a sudden, but dull ringing.

“... and I don’t say this lightly, but the bread pudding is absolutely to die for, hah hah– Vox?”

The sound of something tapping rather firmly onto the floor finally brought Vox out of his lethargy, just in time to see Alastor returning his cane to where-the-fuck-ever in a puff of crimson smoke. He then proceeded to lean so far forward in his seat that Vox was surprised he managed to avoid falling onto the table between them. “Dear me, you truly are unwell, aren’t you?” Vox attempted to mirror Alastor’s smile, though it fell short of being a perfect copy by a mile. “It’s probably just a twenty-four hour bug, nothing to worry about.” Though Alastor’s tone might have conveyed sympathetic to anyone else, Vox had a hunch it leaned more into the ‘Your misery is palpable and I’m loving every second of it’ territory. Actually, he was certain of it. Jesus Christ, had he really analyzed Alastor so much over their time together? Then again, it wasn’t as though he made it easy - it was that damned smile.

It never left Alastor’s face, no matter what he was doing or saying, an unnerving fact he’d learned after watching him maim one soul so ignorant as to roughly shove past Alastor while muttering expletives under his breath. The same breath had soon begun begging for mercy before his guts were splayed all over the sidewalk. This had been early into their acquaintance-ship, and Vox still had shivers whenever they passed by the same spot.

It wasn’t really the actual gore or violence, but the fact that Alastor had been grinning throughout the entire thing. As if he– no, he definitely did enjoy it. An “artform”, a term he’d heard the other use on more than one occasion. An artform. He’d never associated murder or even run-of-the-mill violence with “art”. Then again, there was nothing even remotely typical about the way Alastor operated. Not even a little.

So occupied with his thoughts, he’d barely even noticed when their waiter arrived, giving a sharp start before attempting to appear more put-together than he felt. Alastor ordered first, thankfully; though the relief was short-lived, Alastor stated his choice as though he’d gotten the same combination hundreds of times. Which, in hindsight, was quite possibly the case.

When the waiter - a one-eyed Hellian who resembled more of a blob than any even remotely human-form - turned to Vox, it suddenly occurred to him that he hadn’t even taken a glance at the menu. He felt so exhausted, and the mere thought of food had his stomach gurgling. Apparently his digestive system was protesting the questionable eggs and toast, and the idea of piling something from a place he’d never eaten from or heard of before on top of that was out of the question.

Regardless, he ordered a simple burger and some fries, along with a soft drink. It had been the first thing that didn’t look complicated, and hopefully the bubbles from the drink would help settle his gut. Plus, he could manage to down a few bites of a burger, enough that he wouldn’t appear so unwell that his appetite was as shot as it genuinely was.

Wait- why did he care about how his plate looked? Was it the chance that Alastor would make yet another remark? ‘You’ve hardly touched your plate, dear!’ Oh, he could just hear it now. As if the knowledge that he was unwell didn’t already make Vox want to crawl out of his skin. He hated feeling weak, under any circumstances - but especially under the ones he had zero control over.

And to have Alastor poking and prodding every time he so much as sniffled was beginning to grow a bit old. Fast. As if reading his thoughts, Alastor’s chipper-as-ever voice caught his attention once again.

“Do you have a wire loose, or something to that effect? I dare-say I haven’t ever seen your antennae so active.” Alastor’s grin only widened when Vox grimaced. Shit. Catching his reflection in the window they were seated beside, he could see a rather intense surge of electricity crackling along and between his antennae. He took a deep breath - equally as crackling, and soaked with congestion - before half-coughing it out into his elbow. “It’s… nothing, just a glitch.”

Damn it all, why did his body insist on betraying his fucking thoughts? Was nothing sacred? Oh wait, it wasn’t, as he often needed to remind himself. It’s Hell.

So akin to a shark sensing blood in the water, Alastor pounced. “Certain of that, hm? Perhaps it’s a side effect - you are so ill, after all.” The emphasis on ‘so’ caused another surge of electricity, and Vox’s already taught spine felt a shudder travel down it from both frustration and… something else. Something vaguely familiar, irritating and– “I can assure you, Alastor, it’s just… jhhhust…?” Oh fuck, not again - not here, in this fucking ancient diner that was somehow PACKED as if to spite him. Alastor clocked onto Vox’s predicament rather quickly, as if bringing a fist to the middle of his screen wasn’t enough of a dead give-away.

The sensation still grew, despite the fact that Vox could feel the intense pressure of his knuckles all but grinding against his screen. It was somehow fuzzing around every single inch of his head, and simultaneously completely out of reach to actually scratch. He sniffed, which sounded far more damp than Vox had been intending for it to, before attempting to speak again - only to have his breathing hijacked with a double-gasp.

“It’s j-just… Ahh– hehh!”

“I do believe we got to that part, but I’m just itching to know the rest!”

Mother of Fucking Christ, he was going to short-circuit on the spot. There was no point in trying to finish again, not with his systems so preoccupied. Fuck, fine, just get it over with. Vox eased the pressure on his screen, before relinquishing his fist to hang in the air before mouth, which was stuck gaping as he gasped again - then again, his body finally beginning to do what it needed to. “Ahhh’hah…! hehh’hih’EHhh–!!... hh… hhgh?”

Vox’s lips formed an open-mouthed frown, his brow furrowed from more than just the prickling irritation. Which, while still prominent, seemed to stall just on the apex breath. Another sniffle, another bout of hitching that… also failed to result in a sneeze. Vox released an unsteady exhale that mingled with an exasperated groan.

Seriously?! He was finally ready to sneeze, and his body decided to fucking bail on him? What the literal Hell?

It only occurred on another failed attempt at sneezing that Vox had technically brought this on himself. He’d been fighting the urge to sneeze ever since his initial outbursts. He was so hellbent on not sneezing due to the discomfort and, frankly embarrassment it caused that he’d put up a mental block around even the thought of it. And now that he actually wanted to, really, desperately needed to sneeze out the infernal itch, his body was simply listening to what he’d demanded from it earlier. He wasn't going to sneeze.

He wanted to cry.

As it was, he could feel saline welling in the corners of his eyes, which were swiped away with a vicious, frantic sniffle. Before Alastor could open his mouth, he gasped out an airy, “I’m fine!” which decidedly did not signify that he was anything even in the ball-park of being ‘fine’.

He heard Alastor chuckle, and was spared the ol’ reliable of his smile with his tearing eyes wrenched shut. But Vox could still feel it, in every single receptor and nerve, it seemed to dig right beneath his skin.

“Oh yes, you’re the absolute epitome of ‘fine’. And ‘good health’ while we’re at it!” The only semblance of a response Vox could give was to cough in irritation; he was thoroughly occupied with the incompetence of his own body. And though it wasn’t obvious to him, Alastor’s patience had quickly reached it's limit.

The Overlord rolled his eyes and, unbeknownst to Vox, opted to take matters into his own hands.

Tear-soaked eyes had barely squinted open before Vox caught sight of Alastor's gloved hand in front of him, just a few inches shy of actually touching him but close enough to cause a start. The sensation stalled, but not for very long: a ripple of some kind of... energy traveled along the short space between them. And the irritating sensation seemed to double- no, triple in strength and intensity, and for a brief moment Vox thought he might be feeling something akin to pain.

But no, it wasn’t quite pain. Just the overwhelming, agonizing, all-consuming urge finally, finally tipping over the edge–

“h’EAASCHHH!!!” The first of many, he reckoned, if the steadily rising pressure inside of his head was anything to go by. There was barely a gasp before his body truly let him have it.

“eh’AKK’TZZSCHH! heh’IZZSCH! EH’TZZT’HIEW! Eh’KZSCH! Eh’KZCH!...”

On and on, rapid, intense sneezes tumbling out in a frenzied heap, one right on the heels of the other. Vox couldn’t ever recall having sneezed so much in his life. And apparently he was going for setting a record as far as his afterlife was concerned.

“Hh–! EH’TZZT! H’uuhh’ohh f-fuck-” Though thoroughly unable to focus on anything other than sneezing the now worsened irritation - fucking Alastor - out of his system, Vox winced as he felt the collar of his turtleneck become decidedly… damp.

His ports were- oh Satan’s balls, they were leaking?!

Hissing out another sneeze, a hand immediately flew to his mouth. Thus far the fit had been far too rapid, too intense for his conscious mind to think of covering. Not that the action did much, considering it was his ports leaking - though he could also detect a hint of salivation trailing from one corner of his mouth.

“Oh for goodness sake.” he heard Alastor mutter.

In the brief pause where Vox could only pant and anticipate the next flurry of sneezes, he winced as something smacked him in the face. Well, not so much ‘smacked’ as it was tossed, and upon feeling the silken material of the object, snatched at it and pressed it to the lower half of his face.

“You look an absolute sight,” his companion began, with zero concealment of his disgust, “If you’re not even going to bother properly covering, you can at least–”

“eh’GXT’SCHHIEW!”

“Gesundheit. You can at least have the decency to–”

“hhH’ZZSSCHH! eh’KZZCHH’hue! Kff–!”

“Gesundheit. Mm, perhaps it would be wise to wait until you’re finished with this little display.”

“hh’RR’ZZZSCHH!!!”

Alastor’s ears twitched back in response to the rather harsh, static-charged sound. Even Vox's body winced in discomfort from the feedback. “Goodness. If you ever do finish, that is.”

Sniffling pathetically, Vox managed to smother another trio of smaller, yet equally exhausted-sounding sneezes into the handkerchief. Or, was it a napkin? He couldn’t imagine Alastor sacrificing his napkin to serve as a snot-rag, so maybe he was just soiling his own.

Whatever. At least it provided some kind of shield between this awful cold and everyone else.

As if he truly gave a fuck if he was contagious. Though that did call to mind a question that had been gnawing at him ever since he’d even realized he was unwell: Could he spread this to anyone else? More specifically - to Alastor?

It seemed so out of the realm of possibility. But, in theory, he supposed it would make sense: while Vox outwardly appeared to be mechanically comprised, and certain, obvious parts were, his body still housed organic parts.

He’d found that out the hard way, once. It was still rather jarring to think about how he’d gaped in horror at his own intestines, but they pulsated and ached and appeared just like anyone else’s. He had a heartbeat, a brain that was… probably made of gray matter. Probably.

And he was able to catch a cold. So it stood to reason that he could spread that cold to just about anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in the crossfire of a sneeze or cough.

Including Alastor.

Vox took his time in trying to make himself look at least semi-presentable again, mopping up his mouth and dabbing at his eyes before reluctantly moving to his neck. Though when he caught Alastor’s expectant expression, he sniffled thickly before speaking.

“Sndf! I… I think it’s over.” His weary gaze gave way to irritation, “You could have at least warned me before pulling a stunt like that, y’know.”

Alastor appeared insulted, scoffing. “I suppose that’s the last time I lend you my generosity, then! It’s certainly not my fault that your system is so terribly faulty.”

“I was perfectly fine before you decided to mess with me out of nowhere!”

“Oh yes, huffing and gasping as though you were in some amateur erotica - surely I should have let you continue on in all your obscenity! Ridiculous,” Alastor’s upper lip snagged in obvious disdain, a gloved finger gliding down his own neck, “You’re still leaking.”

Vox’s fans kicked into overdrive. “Oh, for fuck’s sake–”

#greywrites;#greydoeshazbin;#i feel like i have another tag for this fandom but i can't find it...#either way here's part two!!!#i'm still having way too much fun writing Alastor's dialogue #I think he needs his own fic one of these days... >:3 #snz #snz kink #snz fic

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sungbeam · 1 year

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OFF THE RECORD ▷ PART ONE (EP1-8)

nonidol!ji changmin x fem!reader

everyone thinks changmin is cute and harmless, but you know that's not who he really is.

▷ genre, part warnings. e2l, childhood friends gone bad, (extra) slow burn, fluff, angst, mentions of childhood trauma and parental manipulation, arguing, bittersweet galore, nct ten is there for the sole purpose of being nosy like the rest of us or for being a 2nd male lead who knows!, swearing, hurt/comfort, ji changmin dancing. (need i go on), symptoms of panic/anxiety, a lot of non-tbz moments sorry i meant it when i said extra slow burn, pining haha...ha (very subtle)

▷ PART ONE WC. 18.5k

this is the third installment of the love in unity series! this can be read as a standalone, but i encourage u to read jacob and eric's storylines too! all prev and future yns will be referred to as _!yn ;) / otr part two

a/n: this was going to be a very quirky author's note, but it's not anymore bc i'm really mad at tumblr. pls enjoy :')

EPISODE ONE (PILOT): OFF THE CLOCK

"NIGHT, Yn!"

"Good night, Yn-ie."

"Make sure you get some rest, Yn-ah! Good luck with the report."

The door out of the laboratory building shuttered closed after your last coworkers and peers swept out to leave you to the white noise of the lights above your head and the cooling units. You were probably the only person crazy enough to still be chained to your lab workbench on a Friday night, especially when it was already six o'clock. Your stomach growled its complaints as you tucked a pen behind your ear with a sigh. There was probably a bag of shrimp chips in the break room snack stash, and you pushed your stool beneath the workbench to head into the break room.

Now that the laboratory was practically barren except for you, it wouldn't be a bad idea to take the reign of Kun's speaker…

The sound of your phone ringtone blared out loud from your pocket, and you scrambled to grab it with your other hand not occupied with shrimp chip crumb dust (after having washed your hands, of course). You put the call on speaker then deposited your phone onto the countertop so both hands could be used for eating. "Yo."

"You've been hanging around Mark too much," Yeri answered from the other end.

You snorted, covering your mouth for a moment, then replying, "Well good evening to you, too, my beloved. What's up?"

You could hear the muffled sounds of your friends from the other side of the phone. A car door slammed shut. "Hey-yo, is that Yn? Yn, what's up, my dude?"

"Mark, can you speak like a regular human?" That was Seungkwan. "Hi Yn-ie! We miss you, mwah!"

"Look, man. Me and Yn are homies, and this is literally just how I talk—"

The car door opened and Yeri must have taken initiative to get out of the car herself at this point. You laughed at her audible eye roll. "Okay, now that you've heard what I have to deal with, will you tell me that you're coming to the dance draft show tonight?"

Your mood soured.

It wasn't that you didn't want to go for Yeri's sanity's sake, you just didn't want to go, period. What the performing arts called a rehearsal, they referred to as a "draft" stage, where they planned rough runs of acts for the showcase. It just so happened that the dance department was holding their draft show for people to sit-in to watch tonight; their final showcase would be held on the Friday night of finals week, which was only in a few weeks now.

(Why did they call it a "draft" stage instead of simply a "rehearsal"? Well, you had no clue, and you didn't have any plans to ask anyone who would know the answer.)

When you didn't immediately answer, you heard Yeri's grumble. "Don't nerd out on me, Miss Yn Ln."

You gasped. "Nerd out on you? I'm being responsible—"

"You're being a workaholic!"

You pursed your lips together and quickly rinsed your fingers of shrimp chip crumbs. "Fair. But I'm sorry, I'm not going."

A brief pause. Then, the sigh. "Okay. That's okay," she said. "Wanna meet us for dinner afterwards at least?"

Your stomach grumbled, right on cue. It wasn't loud enough for Yeri to hear on the other end, but the timing made you laugh to yourself. "Definitely."

There was a smile in your friend's voice. "Cool! I'll text you details once we figure out what's happening. In the mean—" her voice was interrupted by the sound of muffled yelling on the other side, and Yeri pulled her mouth away from the phone so she could screech at Seungkwan, Mark, and now, Kim Jungwoo, to be quiet and put their seatbelts on. You heard vaguely about Jungwoo being late for his call time, and you were not at all surprised. She returned to the phone with a grumble. "You're really leaving me with the kids, Yn?"

You giggled. "Sorry, Yeri. I'll pay for your dinner."

"Deal. See you soon, babe."

"See ya, love!"

When the phone call ended, you realized just how thick the silence fell around you. It settled like a blanket over your senses, and it all became a bit overwhelming, especially after such a loud phone call.

You sighed, putting the shrimp chips back in the snack stash. You might as well go find where Kun hid his speaker to fill the silence then.

— ✶

People were yelling. And tripping. And crying.

In retrospect, this constituted as a normal backstage environment for something like a finals showcase draft rehearsal. It was hardly even a rehearsal, but more so a sneak peek showcase. There were people in the audience, after all.

Ji Changmin would know. This would be his third winter draft show out of his three years here in university. There were always showcases at the end of each quarter, but the winter show wielded the title of most anticipated. With the cold and rainy weather keeping most people indoors, it allowed for a larger crowd to come flocking toward said indoor modes of entertainment. Thus, the winter showcase and all of its hype.

Changmin lingered in his little corner of the backstage area, calmly stretching out his lanky limbs while chaos erupted all around him. He had two acts this time around—a duet with Lee Juyeon, as well as a solo performance. It had been enough to keep him busy for the quarter, among his other classes.

"—Jungwoo, you're late!"

He raised his head at the sound of Lee Minho’s voice from across the room, the dirty blond sending a deadpanned glare at the man in question. Kim Jungwoo’s eyes were wide with doe-like innocence as he made his way toward his friend, his posse following behind and taking in the chaos with amused awe. Changmin could easily recognize those present—Kim Yeri, Mark Lee, and Boo Seungkwan.

He turned his head away; it wasn’t his business, and he had much bigger things to worry about.

He raised his hands to his neck to put his headphones over his ears, but paused when he caught a few more echoes of their conversation.

“ — sorry Minho, but you know I can’t resist getting a free carpool ride,” Jungwoo said while setting his duffle bag in the corner and swiftly joining Minho in stretches. If Changmin was a hard ass when it came to dance and schedules, Minho was much worse. But Changmin respected him a lot, especially in a craft like dance and performance—he saw him as an equal.

A sigh from Minho. “Yeah, yeah. Poor Yeri.”

Yeri huffed, her hands shooting up into the air. “Thank you!”

Minho folded his arms over his chest as he stood up straight to stand next to Yeri as the two of them absentmindedly watched Jungwoo fold himself in two to stretch his long legs out. “Huh, no Yn tonight?”

Changmin didn’t know why he was still listening. He slowly lowered his headphones back to their position around his neck, then resumed stretching out his hamstrings. He could wait a couple more minutes before getting into his choreography…

“You know you’re not gonna see her anywhere near this place,” Yeri said with a pointed look. Changmin held back a retort, or even a snort. “Wanna get dinner with us tonight? She’s coming to meet us after the show.”

“Ah, I’d love to, but I promised Jisung I’d swing by the studio afterwards. Hey, have you met Ten yet? You should ask…”

Changmin decided that this was an appropriate moment to tune out. He swiftly donned his headphones and reached for his phone hidden in the pile of his duffle bag and jackets in the corner. He didn’t even know why he listened in when your friends brought you up. Why were you even still connected to the dance and performing arts department people anyway? He huffed, rolling his eyes with a small shake of his head. It wasn’t like you wanted to be connected to dance anyway. So why give him a constant reminder of your existence and the past you shared—

“Changminnie!” Juyeon appeared in front of him, waving to him with that goofy smile to get his attention.

Changmin broke into a smile as he shifted one side of his headphones from his ear. “Hey. Wanna go over some of the routine?”

Juyeon nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready. I was trying to get your attention, but I think you were just occupied.”

Whoops. Changmin flicked his wrist as he followed Juyeon down the hallway to a more private place to practice with his friend. “Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking of something.”

“Oh, okay,” Juyeon ducked his head into an empty dressing room in the back hallway, beckoning Changmin to follow him in. “Nothing to worry about though? You can talk to me; no judgment.”

Changmin chuckled and closed the door behind him. “Nah, nothing important. Let’s just focus on the performance.” Anything involving you? Definitely not important anymore.

— ✶

Late February brought the cold, bitter winds of night to the university, so the trek all the way across campus from the laboratory buildings to the performing arts hall was a hellish one. You kept your head tucked into the puffy collar of your puffer jacket, hands stuffed into your pockets, a happy tune blasting in your ears to keep you going all the way up the road. It was around nine o’clock by the time you made it to the front of the performing arts hall, and you could already see the sea of people meandering outside its doors post-draft show.

You shivered and pulled your phone out from your pocket to see where your friends were waiting for you.

“Yn-ie!”

Your head lifted and you grinned, waving your hand at Seungkwan who was making his way over to you. “Hi Kwannie,” you greeted and wrapped your arms around him in a warm embrace.

When you’d pulled away, Seungkwan made a face as he shuddered. “Jesus, it’s cold. I should have brought a scarf or something. Did you walk here?”

You began to nod, but he tsked. “Aish, Yn. You should’ve called! No one should have to walk in this torturous cold.”

You laughed. “It’s no big deal. We’re about to go get some hot food, so it’s cool.”

“We might have to wait for a little longer.” Both you and Seungkwan turned toward Yeri, Mark, and Jungwoo who were walking over. Jungwoo had a sweatband holding his bangs out of his face and his duffle slung over his shoulder. He had his jacket draped over his arm; he was probably warm from the showcase. “We’re waiting on Ten to finish up.”

“Hi Jungwoo,” you greeted him, and the man returned the expression with a side hug. You furrowed your brows. “Who’s Ten?’’

Mark replied with a sniffle from the cold, “Oh, he’s a new exchange student! Well, he was originally admitted here, but he went abroad for a year. He's with the NCT frat. Super cool, super funny. He’s great at dance though.”

“I think you’ll vibe with him, Yn,” Yeri chimed in. “He’s asking a couple people for their opinion on a few parts of his routine, so I think he’ll be out soon.”

You nodded in understanding. You didn’t mind waiting, but you hoped what Yeri said about him was true. Hopefully you did get along with him, because you were honestly far too tired to forcefully play nice. You were hoping for a chill night anyway. Then again, as long as you could avoid a certain someone tonight, this would turn out to be a chill night in general.

You and your friends chatted for a few minutes only before Jungwoo caught someone’s eyes from behind you, Yeri, and Mark. He brightened. “Ten! Ten, over here!”

You all swiveled.

Ten was just as lean and lithe as Jungwoo was, but with black bangs, a pair of round spectacles hanging from the collar of his white T-shirt, and a cute smile on his face. You and he made brief eye contact before Jungwoo was hopping on the balls of his feet to greet him.

Jungwoo slung an arm around Ten’s shoulders as he brought him over to the group. “Yn, this is Ten Lee. Ten, this is Yn-ie—the friend we mentioned earlier.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “Why was I mentioned?” You laughed nervously.

Ten flashed you a boyish kind of smile. “Oh, it was nothing; don’t worry. It’s nice to meet you though.”

Your heart didn't slow at his assurance. “Ah, okay then. Uh, nice to meet you, too!”

“Did you get your routine settled?” Seungkwan asked as the lot of you began to move in one, loose blob toward Yeri’s car. (How all of you would manage to fit, that was something you mentally were trying to figure out. In Yeri’s tiny sedan, you might have to squish four people into the back seat.)

Ten nodded enthusiastically. “Yup, it’s all sorted. Minho and Changmin were really helpful with their comments.”

You felt the people around you freeze at the mention of Changmin’s name. You stiffened as well, but tried to force the strange feeling to go away. Your friends knew the drill, too, but you saw the way they glanced at you from their periphery.

Ten was smart, you realized, when his head tilted at all of your reactions.

Time for damage control. “That’s—that’s good!” Mark’s voice cracked and coughed to clear it. “I mean, Minho’s always been really attentive to details and stuff. I think he was almost recruited to become an idol or something like that…”

Ten pursed his lips, as if silently saying, ‘I’m not buying this bull’. You decided to just… do it. “Changmin’s a great dancer, too,” you said, and everyone shot disbelieving glances your way, but you could already see how Ten was grasping onto everything you were saying. You forced a neutral tone into the way you spoke, forced yourself not to let the bitterness seep through. No one deserved to fall victim to the feelings that were only meant for one Ji Changmin. “I’m glad he helped you out. He’s really good at sharp movements and isolations.”

“Oh, do you dance, Yn?” Ten piped up with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Ruh roh,” you heard Seungkwan murmur, and he shuffled away from you to go to the other side of Yeri’s car.

Maybe you purposefully let him see right through you. “Not really. It was a long time ago.”

You and Ten held eye contact, the silent tension like communication passed between the two of you—this was personal, but Ten could figure out that there was more to the story. It was odd though; the way he didn’t fear prodding just a little bit. You didn’t know why you were letting yourself feed him more bait, but Yeri was hollering for the two of you to squeeze into the backseat, and you snapped out of it.

Weird…

Ten held the backseat door open for you. “Looking forward to getting to know you, Yn,” he said pleasantly.

Your eyes narrowed slightly as you slipped into the backseat. “Same to you…”

EPISODE TWO: OFF THE TABLE

YOUR curiosity won you out.

In fact, it won you over so much that you agreed to get coffee with Ten Saturday afternoon—with Mark and Yeri, of course. The four of you had coordinated stopping by one of the coffee shops in the shopping mall just down the hill from the university to hang out and destress a little from the incoming second wave of STEM midterms. Well, you needed to destress. Mark was in communications, Yeri in psychology, and Ten was… what was Ten’s major again?

“Foreign affairs,” he answered before lifting the straw of his iced americano to his lips. “Lots of foreign language classes and politics and history. Politics and capitalism classes are not my favorite, but all the cultural courses on campus are really great.”

You bobbed your head, propping your chin onto your palm. You sat across from him at one of high tables in the cafe; Mark and Yeri’s stools were barren, save for the belongings they left for you and Ten to watch, while they literally sprinted across the mall to the grocery store because they forgot they were supposed to bring booze to the NCT-RVE joint alumni homecoming tonight. You probably weren’t going to go just because social energy came in short supply these days, but you promised to send a card for your friends in RVE.

“I can imagine,” you commented. “I took a really neat course on African tribes and culture in freshman year, and I miss my professor a lot. I sometimes wonder what would have happened had I joined his study abroad program in Ghana instead of staying here.”

Ten’s head did the tilt thing again, the one you recognized from last night as something he did when he was intrigued. “That does sound really cool. What made you stay?”

Where do I even begin? “My major,” you replied simply. It wasn’t really a lie—not entirely a lie. You sipped on your latte, a faraway look in your eyes. “I was so set on a plan that I guess I got nervous about the unknown should I have gone on that trip.”

“Mm, I understand.” He had taken on a softer look now, something more akin to empathy. “It is a little scary, but while I was in Indonesia, I realized I wouldn’t have traded such an experience for anything else."

You set your cup down. "Have you always wanted to dabble in global affairs?"

"Uh, I'm not sure," he said, head tilted upward with a scrunch in his nose. He nudged his glasses up the smooth slope of his sculpted nose. "I was kind of put in a situation where I had to learn a lot of new languages, and I luckily turned out to be pretty good at picking up on them."

"Wow, that's really cool," you chuckled. A talent you definitely envied. And it seemed like Ten had made the decision to pursue this future of his on his own. You wished you could say the same.

From the counter of the café, you heard one of the workers call out your order number for cinnamon rolls, fresh from the oven.

You began to slip off your stool, and Ten spoke up, "Oh, I can totally go get those."

"It's no problem," you chirped, "I'm already down anyway." You were swift to scurry over to the counter and pick up your table's tray of cinnamon rolls with a smile at the worker in deep gratitude. The thick, warm sweetness wafted into your nose, and you inhaled the delights with a blissful grin.

However, as you turned to head back to the table, you halted abruptly, nearly knocking the plates on the tray into each other.

There, standing next to your table and chatting with Ten, were Ji Changmin and Choi Chanhee.

Great.

The sweet dessert smell soured and tasted like acid on your tongue. Bitter, like the taste of hot coffee straight from the pot. You schooled your face into neutrality, but there was no way all of the uncomfortableness could stay away.

You made your way over; the tray was getting heavy.

"—actually here with Yn, Mark, and Yeri—" Ten was pointing your way and you had to control your urge to hide.

Changmin and Chanhee's heads turned in sync, but only Changmin's eyes narrowed at the sight of you. You returned the expression wholeheartedly.

Chanhee held his breath, muttering a "Yikes" under his breath, while Ten observed the interaction with slightly parted lips. Huh.

"Ji."

"Ln."

You deposited the tray onto the table and your biceps sighed in relief. Those four cinnamon rolls truly were quite hefty on their own.

You could still feel Changmin’s eyes on you as you slid onto the stool across from Ten. “Something you’d like to say to me?” You addressed him with ill-suppressed snark.

Changmin’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing that you’ll take into importance anyway. Just didn’t think you would ever hang out with someone from the dance department.”

“Ten’s got a life outside of dance, Changmin,” you replied. You flashed him a thin-lipped smile. “He gets it.”

“And you’re so much better than me for having a so-called life,” he rolled his eyes. “You know, some people are just really passionate about dance—something you seem to still not understand.”

“I really don’t think you want me to bring up the trove of things you don’t understand—”

Chanhee subtly moved over to Ten’s side as the two of them observed the sparring match between you and Changmin. A sigh fell from his lips, and his eyebrows raised up all the way to his pink-dyed hairline.

Ten had taken one of the plates of cinnamon buns in front of him, silently offering Chanhee some. The latter refused, and Ten began to peel away one of the sultry, sweet dough layers. “Is this… normal?” He asked Chanhee under his breath, motioning to the still-bickering couple across from them.

Chanhee snorted. “It’s their mating call.”

It seemed he had said those four words loud enough to catch yours and Changmin’s attention. A miracle, indeed.

“Ew,” both you and Changmin immediately grimaced at Chanhee. Then you looked at one another with a greater degree of disgust. “Stop copying me!”

…Or, less so a miracle, but rather, a tragedy.

Chanhee let out a haggard sigh, eyes sullen to a deadpan. “One of the few things the two of you will ever agree on.”

“The last thing we’ll ever agree on,” Changmin grumbled as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “C’mon Chanhee. We should probably order before JC!Yn and Kei finish loading up the car.”

Changmin was already making his way over to the cashier when Ten managed to get in a final question, “Are you guys coming to the NCT-RVE homecoming tonight?”

“Sure—”

“No.”

Chanhee sent Ten an apologetic look for Changmin’s brusque answer. “Sorry about him. We were thinking of it, but he might be practicing with Juyeon tonight. See you later, Ten—and Yn!” He chased after Changmin, ambushing his friend by practically leaping onto his back and then smacking his shoulder.

Now that Changmin was away from you, the red in your vision had begun to clear away, and you finally remembered the set of delicious cinnamon rolls waiting for you.

Ten propped his cheek against his fist. “So… you and Changmin…”

You made a sour face as you cut off a slice of your cinnamon roll. “What about the gremlin?” You asked. As soon as the buttery, sweet delight hit your tongue, you felt your body lighten and you did a little happy dance in your seat.

Ten chuckled at your behavior. “Lovers gone wrong?”

You choked on the bite.

Your new friend’s eyes widened comically to the size of saucers as he literally pounced across the table to pat your back. “Shit—sorry, Yn. I probably should’ve waited for you to finish swallowing, huh?” He winced when you’d managed to breathe correctly and washed the bite of food down with a sip of coffee. He returned to his perch, letting you recover while he talked through his thoughts. “I don’t mean to pry—actually—” he paused, reconsidering, “—I do mean to pry. Sorry, I’m kind of a sucker for this kind of stuff.”

One of your eyes squinted at him as you massaged your throat. “Yeah, I kind of figured.”

He beamed at you boyishly, the kind of expression that almost had your defenses slipping. Almost. Ten was one slippery fellow. For some reason, you kind of respected him for being upfront about the nosiness, and if you were being honest, if this drama wasn’t yours, you would also be curious about the whole thing.

“Can’t help myself sometimes,” he confessed with a mere shrug. “You don’t owe an explanation or backstory, of course.”

You sucked in a breath, opting to hold back on eating your pastry until you and Ten were done with this topic. “I’m just going to say that Changmin and I were not ‘lovers gone wrong’,” you said, body shuddering.

“Mm,” he hummed. His eyes wandered behind you and over your head, swiftly followed by the action of waving to Changmin and Chanhee on their way out of the cafe. “It’s just interesting to me. Didn’t you just advocate for him the other night at the draft show?”

That rang a bell, unfortunately. “It’s complicated.”

Ten pressed his mouth into a saccharine smile. “I can imagine.”

EPISODE THREE: OFF THE PHONE

THERE was an avid knocking at the laboratory door, usually done by those who didn’t actually work at this specific lab. This lab area was usually reserved for upperclassmen and graduate students and their work.

“Yn-ie, could you get the door, please?” You heard Kun called out to you from his office. It wasn’t just the two of you tonight, but rather, just a few others you didn’t know as well as you did Kun. He often worked late hours like you did, always overworking himself even more as a fresh grad student. You, on the other hand, were trying to finish up this one research paper resulting from last quarter’s research project. If you were lucky, you would be able to send it off to be peer reviewed soon.

You slipped out from behind your workbench and maneuvered the maze of workbenches to head out into the corridor. Exhaustion wore at your bones from having such a long day, but you really did need to get some productive work done so you could focus specifically on your midterms approaching at the end of this week and the beginning of the following week.

However, as you turned the corner into the corridor, you nearly missed your footing. At the end of the hallway where the glass door to the outside was, you found yourself identifying one Ji Changmin and his friend, someone you didn’t recognize. The latter wore a gray hoodie beneath a black puffer vest, and he reacted the opposite to how Changmin did when they caught sight of you.

“Hey! Could you open the door, please?” Not-Changmin hollered through the glass, furiously shaking his sweater-pawed hand down at the door handle.

You didn’t want to. God, you really didn’t want to.

Changmin stared you down, as if daring you to come closer.

You opened the door, and let the cool gust of late February air and two outsiders into the safety and warmth of the laboratory building.

Hoodie Guy shuddered violently to get the cold out of his system. “Jesus, it’s cold outside. Thanks,” he said to you. Then he nudged Changmin with his elbow, as if jolting the man into reality.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, words directed toward Changmin in particular.

His dark bangs were tucked beneath a black beanie with his pair of black headphones hanging around his neck. “You think I want to be here?”

His friend sent him a look, his eyes flickering between you and Changmin furiously until the pieces clicked into his mind. “Well, uh oh…” he muttered while turning away slightly to scratch his head. He gathered his wits then. “Uh, Yn, right?”

You perked up. “Yes.”

“Uh,” he drawled. “We’re actually here for Jacob Bae. You see, we told him we’d come pick him up to take him over to—”

“Is he here?” Changmin asked.

Your eyebrow shot upward. At least they were here for a proper reason. You crossed your arms over your chest, glancing back toward the main laboratory floor way down the hall. Man, the safe zone felt so far away. “He actually just left like, ten minutes ago. Sorry.” The apology was said to Changmin’s friend, the one who seemed to have been able to figure out who exactly you were to Changmin. Not that you were anything to him. And did Changmin just talk about you to all his friends or something—?

“Oh.”

Changmin tapped his friend with the back of his hand. “C’mon Sunwoo. We’ll just meet him over there.”

Sunwoo wrinkled his nose. “I just think it’s weird that he didn’t text us to let us know before we came over here.”

There was a pause and you could practically see the gears in Changmin’s head turning. You would have left them to their own company, but you technically weren’t allowed to leave unauthorized students alone.

It was strange seeing Changmin break into something akin to sheepishness. You saw the dimples appear in the apples of his cheeks as he cupped the back of his neck. “I might not have told him we were coming…”

Sunwoo’s eyes and mouth widened and he whacked his friend with the length of his hoodie sleeve. Changmin let out one of those hyena laughs that set off triggers in your mind. It’d been awhile since you heard that… “Hyung! You’re so unreliable sometimes, oh my god. Even Eric would have remembered to tell him!”

Changmin made a noise of dismissal, slinging an arm around his friend. “Ah, it’s fine. We’ll just meet him there—as you said.”

“Worst texter award goes to,” Sunwoo rolled his eyes.

“I guess some things never change.” The words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, and both Sunwoo and Changmin suddenly remembered that you were in the hallway with them. Sunwoo had perked up as if he were surprised you would even comment on their situation, but Changmin cut an unreadable expression your way. You didn’t want to read into it.

“You literally forgot to answer a text I sent for three days,” Changmin quipped.

Well, if he was going to play the back and forth game. “That was once out of how many other times,” you scoffed. “You refused to answer anyone’s texts in the mornings anyway, so don't get on my case about that.”

“He did that to you, too?!” Sunwoo cut in with fire behind his words.

You could’ve sworn you saw the slightest bit of blush grace Changmin’s cheekbones as you hid a laugh behind your hand. “He did that to everyone—”

“Hey, I’m better over call; you know that!” Changmin argued. “Sunwoo, you can’t even talk about being a bad texter. I have to hunt for you on discord sometimes to get a straight answer.”

Sunwoo groaned, “Yah! Whatever. It’s still better than your average three-business-day reply speed.”

Changmin stammered, “It is not an average of three business days.” If your ears were not deceiving you, Ji Changmin was whining. “It’s a couple hours at least.”

“A couple hours means half a day,” you said to Sunwoo.

Changmin whipped his attention back to you, finger jabbed accusingly in your direction. “Hey, missy! You always fell asleep on-call, even when you promised that you would stay up to help me study.”

You shook your head. “Not my fault! You know that I always fell asleep around midnight back then.”

“Well, back then—”

“Is everything okay out here?”

Everything in the corridor came to a stand still, and Changmin closed his mouth, mid-sentence. Kun had his head poking out of the door to the main floor, a crease pressed between his brows and right above the rim of his thin spectacles. He eyed the two non-laboratory students with a slight grimace. Of course, Kun was aware of who Changmin was. He could recognize him because of his famed performer reputation on campus, but he knew his history with you because you had spent far too many late nights here at the lab with things plaguing your mind. You and Kun both had a problem with trouble sleeping and being workaholics.

You turned slightly to Kun. “Yeah, everything’s okay, Kun-ge.”

He sent you an unimpressed look.

“We,” Changmin piped up as he urged Sunwoo to the door, “were just leaving.” The mirth and fire from the bickering just a few seconds ago had faded, and you could feel him slipping away.

Kun drummed his fingers along the doorframe, eyebrows shooting up for a second. “Oh-kay… Yn-ie, Ten says he’s right around the corner and asks if you want some company walking home.”

The door to the laboratory behind you was held open, and the night breeze brushed through your hair. When you looked back, you saw that Changmin had stalled in the door for a second. But, it had only been that second before he and his friend were gone.

“Oh.” You made your way over to Kun. “That’s really cool of him. I’d love that.” Some company on a late-night walk back to your apartment did not sound bad at all. You’d done plenty of trips on your own, but sometimes having even one person with you would have been nice.

Kun nodded, pursing his lips, as the two of you walked into the main lab together and toward his office off to the side. “Okay, I’ll let him know. You’re for sure okay though? That must have been… not nice, seeing Changmin here.”

You gave a stiff shrug, your hip leaning against the door of his office while Kun settled back at his desk. “It’s fine,” you said. To be honest, you weren’t even sure if that was a lie or not. You’d heard Changmin laugh for the first time in years. You’d seen the dimples in his cheeks, the sheepishness in his expression—you swallowed.

Once upon a time, you associated all of those things with something like happiness. Your happiness.

Kun fixed you with a pointed look. “If you need to talk.”

You gave a firm nod. “I know where to find you.”

He clicked his tongue, shooting you a finger gun, then shooed you off to finish your work and pack your things. Ten was just around the corner, after all.

EPISODE FOUR: OFF THE RECORD

CHANGMIN liked to think that he became nosy, and that he wasn't born this way. But ever since he overheard that Kun guy asking about Ten wanting to walk you home, he couldn't help but wonder…

He shook his head, brushing his hair out of his eyes and off his forehead, before those same bangs flopped back into their place. He walked back onto the main stage of the performing arts hall to the soundtrack of a hype playlist blasting from the ears of his headphones. As he made his way past groups and individuals doing their own thing, he absentmindedly searched for one person in particular.

Conveniently, he found Ten setting himself up right by Changmin's things. He was shouldering off his black puffer jacket, rolling the material up into a manageable ball to shove into his duffle bag.

"Hey," Changmin greeted, bending down slightly to grab his water bottle.

Ten straightened and flashed him a smile. "Hey."

It wouldn't be awkward would it? Probably not. Just be cool about it, Changmin. He smiled slightly, the dimples in his cheeks disarming his acquaintance. "I didn't know you and Yn were close."

Your name felt so… foreign, yet familiar, on his tongue. It was like tasting déjà vu, like eating a treat from childhood that had been associated with good feelings, but he couldn't decide if it was still as good as he remembered or a trick of his mind.

The mention of your name brought a jolt of energy to Ten's body and Changmin saw the man lean into the conversation. Curious… "Oh? Well, I mean—" he gave a shrug, "—she's really cool. She just seems like a good person to get to know, y'know? Why do you ask?"

Changmin couldn't tell how much he trusted the slight narrowing of Ten's feline eyes. There was no way you hadn't mentioned him to Ten at some point or another. To be honest, he didn't like the feeling of you still lingering in his head if he didn't linger in yours. It meant a myriad of things that he loathed to admit.

He let the feeling slide away, let his mouth tilt upward like his eyes to the spotlights in the ceiling. "Just be…" He shook his head. "Nothing. It's nothing." He flicked his wrist, as he spun his water bottle cap on tight. "You can forget about it."

Ten sent him a look that Changmin pointedly ignored.

Somewhere within the depths of the performing arts center, Changmin could hear the howling laughter of his friend Hyunjae as he most likely bugged his best friend out of her mind, both to her chagrin and her delight. That was another can of worms entirely.

Ten piped up as he settled onto the backstage floor while Changmin mentally went through some of the problem sets he had to review today. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you and Yn on such… uneven ground with each other?"

There it was. Changmin snorted. "Uneven ground? I don't even know if we're on the same ground."

"You're both really friendly people," Ten added, "so it just doesn't make sense to me."

Changmin pursed his lips. He never felt the need to divulge this stuff to anyone but his friends, but he didn't know what Ten already knew. He didn't know what you told him, but based on the fact that Ten wasn't looking at him the same way you did… Changmin scratched the back of his head and leaned his side against the wall to face him. "Something happened a long time ago. I guess we just both hold a grudge well."

Ten huffed a laugh in response. "Remind me never to get on your bad side then," he joked.

— ✶

There was a buzz about the university newspaper room. The Daily had only a handful of crew members onboard, mainly because it was so selective. Over the past few years that you had been apart of the staff, you and a few others had gradually loosened the reputation of the Daily's elitist interview process—there was still some level of intimidation that ensured the publication took on the hard workers and not those simply looking for an extracurricular to put on their resume though.

So when there was talk of a new staff member, everyone knew about it.

You let yourself in the door with a sigh, brushing the hair from your eyes held up with a random, blue claw clip you found on your bathroom sink. The bus had been late this morning because it broke down, but you luckily were able to make it to your lecture on time. You had run over here for a quick meeting that Kim Doyoung had summoned you for, no doubt about the new hire.

"Hey guys," you said as you passed by clusters of desks piled with copyedits and heads buried in monitor screens. The sounds of typing stopped briefly with each head you walked past:

"Yn!"

"Hi Yn!"

"Sup Yn—HEY! I just did my hair this morning!" Mark yelped, hands smoothing down the braids in his hair.

You giggled as you patted his head. "Your hair needs a break, Mark."

As you disappeared around the corner, you heard him shout back, "So do you, but you never hear me complaining!"

You rolled your eyes with an ill-concealed smile. The door to Doyoung's little editor in chief office was right down the hall next to the office for the sponsoring professor. As much as you and the others teased him about getting the "Boss man" office, he always complained to you about being on edge with the professor's office next door. You didn't quite understand since Professor Woo was almost never in his office anyway, but you supposed you could see.

Doyoung's door was open, and the fourth year's head perked up at the sound of your voice and nearing footsteps. He didn't even wait for you to knock or say hi, before beckoning you inside. "Yn, thank god you know how to hustle. Close the door on your way in. Thanks."

Your eyebrows shot up at the terseness in his tone, but didn't question him until you'd closed the door and settled into the chair opposite him. His desk, much like those outside, was covered in a sea of paper, with his laptop being the only land in sight. "What's up? You sound stressed."

He shot you a look over the rims of his thin glasses. "When am I not stressed?"

"Valid."

"Okay," he began with a sigh that made your concern rise just a bit more, "you know the situation with our performing arts review section, right?"

You nodded. "Of course."

The situation with the performing arts review section of the paper was inherently a mess. For a handful of years, the performing arts section was written under a pseudonym (lovingly dubbed Opera Glasses)—the identity of the reviewer was anonymous—which was a product of an incident a few years ago where a performer was unhappy with a review left by someone on the paper and came to ask, very unkindly, for a rewrite. Since then, the paper had been swallowed up by so much that finding a permanent writer or reviewer for the section became less and less of a priority.

When you joined the publishing team, it had been in the middle of freshman year when you were also putting your application out for research projects. Joining had felt like the right thing to do, as much as it was an act of rebellion against your mother and your childhood. They had asked if you knew anything about dance of all things.

And well, you did know.

You'd written one piece—one piece that was entirely you. It had been for one of the dancers just debuting at his first winter showcase. Since then, you couldn't stomach writing another one or watching another one.

You ghost wrote, you edited, you advised—but you stuck to putting your energy into covering the STEM-related sections of the paper now.

So Doyoung already knew your relationship with the performing arts review section. "Well," he cleared his throat, making a vague flourish with his hand, "I'm sure you already know that I just interviewed a new prospective recruit. I was wondering if you would be willing to take them under your wing and to show them the ropes."

Oh. That wasn't exactly what you expected him to say. Your heart kicked up for an entirely new reason, however. You'd always wanted to be someone's mentor. To be someone's older sister. "I mean, yeah. I'd love to," you stammered, a smile slowly curling onto your lips. "That would be really cool."

Doyoung sighed, his shoulders sinking in relief. "Thank you."

"But wait." You cocked your head to the side as you asked, "What does Opera Glasses have to do with this?"

"I want her to eventually take over for it," he explained. "She knows quite a bit about theater and music—little less about dance, though. I know that you have your issues with the dance department, but out of everyone here, you probably understand dance stuff the most. I just ask that you help her out a little with that, and maybe even introduce her to some of the people there so we can ease her in with interviews—"

You opened your mouth to interrupt him, but he sent you a pointed look. He continued, "Just hear me out, okay? If you're uncomfortable at all, you can back out. And you don't even have to back out right now or completely; maybe you could have Mark introduce her to Jungwoo for interviews, and you can just stick to the behind-the-scenes stuff."

Doyoung exhaled. "Okay, so what are your thoughts?"

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth. What did you think… What did you think?

Even the thought of stepping foot into a practice room made the yelling and screams echo in the caverns of your mind. But you'd missed them—missed the polished wood floors, the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, the people. God, you couldn't even stay away from the people if you tried, no matter how much you tried convincing yourself you could.

You weren't fooling anyone.

You swallowed. You'd always wanted to be a big sister.

What was the harm in giving this a try?

(Changmin. You'd probably run into Changmin a lot more often than if you didn't accept. But you could see him from that one night: the sheepishness, the dimples, the laugh. Why couldn't you get over that interaction?)

You mustered up your courage and straightened in your seat. "I'll still do it. When do we start?"

EPISODE FIVE: OFF THE MARK

IT turned out that Doyoung intended for you and your new recruit, Bae Sumin, to get started right away. With the winter showcase only a couple weeks away, it was imperative that the two of you dived right in.

"—so what made you interested in joining the team?" You asked, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets to hide signs of nervousness from your underclassman peer. The two of you were walking from the Daily's newsroom and over to the performing arts center. It was about a ten minute walk, but you figured that it would give you two the opportunity to get to know one another.

Sumin was a multimedia major, as you had been told earlier when the two of you just met for the first time in the entryway of the Daily newsroom. She was cute and well-dressed—she wore a pleated skirt and sweater with a white collar peeking through. Her smile was dazzling, and reminded you of someone who would do well on stage. No wonder she had theater and performing experience.

"Oh!" She shot you one of those dazzling smiles, her hand shooting up to shift the white, fluffy earmuffs seated over her head. "I actually had a cousin who came here and shared with me some of the Daily's earlier issues. She always said it was kind of competitive to get in, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to try."

You bobbed your head. "That's really cool." A small laugh fell from your lips, "I'm glad you did try! Lots of people just assume they're gonna get turned away and they don't try at all, you know?"

Sumin hummed in understanding.

Something had settled nicely in your chest throughout this walk. Even if your past anxieties were beginning to bubble up to the surface at the sight of the nearing performing arts buildings, Sumin's easy conversation calmed you. It was one less thing to worry about.

Yesterday, when Doyoung had proposed this job for you, you had asked Mark to accompany you and Sumin to the arts buildings. He couldn't walk with you two, but he promised to meet you there. Now, you were kind of glad you got to have this bit of bonding time with her.

“I think Doyoung said that I should introduce you to a few people in particular,” you said offhandedly and pulled your phone out to check yours and Doyoung’s text thread.

Sumin did the same, most likely taking out any notes she had taken from Doyoung’s instructions. “Yeah, something like Lee Minho, Kim Jungwoo… the Hwang?—the Hwang siblings, uhm and Ji Changmin…?”

Your footing faltered for a second, and Sumin asked if you were all right, but you recovered quickly. You let out an embarrassed laugh, feeling heat crawl up your neck. Why in the world did his name catch you off guard like that? Maybe it was because you assumed Doyoung would just let you avoid Changmin, but realistically, if Sumin was going to do an interview with the dance department’s most prominent members, then there was no avoiding Changmin.

You just had to suck it up and be an adult about it.

It was three years ago… What was the big deal?

But as you moved to open the door to the backstage area for Sumin with your ID card, you felt your throat tighten in on itself. You forced a smile to your face as you let Sumin go in before you so you could turn your head out to inhale a large lungful of fresh air. Then, you ducked in after her.

The backstage corridors were as hustle n' bustle as you expected them to be. The lights were dim-looking from the black walls and floors marred with scuff marks from years upon years of use. It was an overwhelming tidal wave of sensory details—what, with the clashing sounds of chatter and music, the smell of some kind of polish (or maybe that was resin?), the warmth of energy in the air and all around you.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood like you could sense someone was coming this way.

You gestured down the opposite direction to Sumin. “Come on; I’m pretty sure they’re down this way.”

It was a curious thing, memory. You could recall late nights of catching the bus to these very practice rooms and backstage rooms from when you were in high school. Performing on the stage was a whole other experience in itself, and though part of you missed it, there were other feelings that dominated the hints of nostalgia now.

You could hear the chatter even clearer now, even if their words were muddled.

The door to one of the larger practice rooms were left ajar, and though you only peered in, you felt the warmth hit you like a wave. Your throat was closing up again—breathe—

“Hey,” you said into the room, catching quite a few eyes. From an initial scan, you determined that Changmin wasn’t amongst the crush of people socializing in here, and you couldn’t identify the feeling manifesting in the pit of your stomach.

Jungwoo was the first to bound over toward you, swiftly followed by Minho and Hyunjin, one of the Hwang siblings. “Yn-ie! I can’t believe you actually came. I thought Doyoung was joking.”

A smile made its way onto your lips and you accepted Jungwoo’s side hug. “Yeah, well Doyoung doesn’t joke around.”

“He really doesn’t,” Hyunjin said with a grimace. “He’s kind of scary, that one.”

“If you can survive Minho,” you said to him, “then you can survive Doyoung.”

Minho made a face at you. “What have I ever done to you, Yn?”

Nothing; this is just me trying to pretend I’m not seconds away from quivering like a leaf in the wind. You laughed. “Nothing yet. Guys, I'd like you to meet Sumin. She’s our new recruit at the Daily, and she’s gonna be the one conducting interviews for the winter showcase this year.”

Sumin didn’t need much prompting to smile and wave at your friends in that same charming way. “Hi, nice to meet you!”

The three dancers before you replied in kind. Jungwoo offered to introduce her to some of the others in the room, and before you knew it, she was swept away.

Hyunjin made a comment about needing to go check up on a friend of his, leaving you and Minho chatting to the side of the room.

“Wow,” Minho said offhandedly as the two of you watched Jungwoo and Sumin work their way around the room, “she’s a natural at this. Where’d Kim find this one?”

“She saw some of our older issues,” you replied. You watched as Sumin ignited a sort of brightness in every conversation she started. You struggled to swallow; now that you didn’t feel obligated to keep up appearances, especially in front of Sumin, your jitteriness was beginning to come on just a little stronger. You absentmindedly massaged your throat, willing it to loosen up.

Minho glanced over at you, his eyes catching your anxious actions. “Must have a lot of confidence in her if he’s throwing her straight into taking charge of interviews. How’re you holding up?” The latter was said lowly and under his breath in case someone just happened to be close enough to catch onto your conversation.

Minho didn’t know your history with the dance department as thoroughly as your close friends did, but it didn’t take a genius to see that you weren’t at your absolute best right now. You gave a stiff shrug. “I’m alright,” you managed to say.

He nodded, though it was probably more for your sake than him saying he believed you. “It’s funny,” he drawled, “one might think that by sending you here on behalf of the paper, that you were behind Opera Glasses.”

Now that, you could let out a genuine chuckle at.

Minho gauged your reaction but smiled to himself. He wasn’t one to really care for the drama and gossip side that came privy to the performing arts review section, but you couldn’t blame him if he was curious.

“That would be really stupid if that was the case,” you mused.

“It would be,” he agreed. “Is this a sign that this will be the end of Opera Glasses then? Finally a face to the name?”

You pursed your lips. “Actually, I’m not too sure what Doyoung will end up doing. I’m sure he’ll call for a board meeting to decide what the review’s fate will be, but it’s not exactly our top priority—”

Your voice and words trailed off as your eyes met a pair coming into the practice room. You and Changmin froze at the sight of one another, two deer caught in headlights, and you felt your heart palpitate violently in your chest. Your breath left your lungs—his expression was filled with surprise, until it morphed into something you couldn’t read.

“What are you doing here?” He deadpanned.

Minho’s eyebrows shot up. “You didn’t know Yn was stopping by? We all got the email from Director Lee, man.”

Changmin pressed his mouth together and it made the dimple in his cheek deepen. He looked you up and down, and he opened his mouth to say something else, but paused when you unconsciously brushed your thumb against the hollow of your throat. (Dear god, why couldn’t you breathe? Breathe, breathe, breathe—)

He seemed to lose whatever he was going to say. You swore the sharpness in his gaze softened.

But then his jaw tightened; you didn’t know why. “I didn’t think you’d actually show,” he muttered under his breath.

Ouch.

The words from his mouth pricked uncomfortably at the back of your mind. You found your voice again. “I’ll be gone before you know it,” you replied tersely.

Your response touched a nerve for him, too. He cut his attention to the rest of the practice room. “Where’s your new girl?”

“Over there,” you said, inclining your head across the room where Sumin and Hwang Yeji were currently swapping contact information. Something soared in your chest at the sight, but you couldn’t tell if it was pride or envy.

Without any additional prompting, you watched Changmin make his way toward Sumin and away from you. You didn’t realize you were holding in a breath until you finally exhaled—

“Yn! Sorry I’m late.” Mark bumbled into the practice room, wiping a drop of sweat from his forehead as he quite literally crashed against the wall next to you and Minho. He was panting and gasping for breath, and you and Minho couldn’t help but express your amusement.

“It’s all cool, dude,” you assured while patting his head.

“I should probably get back to it,” Minho said as he began walking away from you and Mark. “Nice to see you, Mark. Feel free to take a water bottle from the green room.”

Mark thumped his head against the wall with his eyes closed. “Thanks, man,” he huffed.

With a snicker under his breath, Minho went his separate way.

You gave Mark a moment to catch a breath or two, and you slid down next to him against the practice room wall. Folding your knees up against your chest, you copied Mark’s position with his head tilted back as you both inhaled through your nostrils and breathed out through slightly parted lips. While Mark might have been trying to get a moment of rest from (no doubt) running here from the bus stop, you were trying to steady yourself.

The anxiety was starting to make your hands feel numb cold.

“You don’t have to stay, y’know,” came Mark’s voice, followed by the back of his hand gently nudging your arm. When your eyes fluttered open, you found him already looking at you. “You asked for my help; you can go take a breather outside and come back in—or maybe don’t—whatever you’re comfortable with. This can’t be easy.”

You were struggling to swallow again. One of your hands drummed messily against your kneecap. “It’s—” you shook your head, “—I’ll be okay. Thanks for coming though.”

“Yeah, dude. Of course.”

Something prodded at the side of your head, like someone was staring at you, but when you turned to see, it was just Changmin talking to Sumin. They were both smiling and making good conversation, it seemed.

You let out a sigh and closed your eyes again. Wishful thinking.

— ✶

Mark stayed behind to “vibe” with the remaining dancers still at the performing arts building while you and Sumin pushed out into the crisp, cool evening. Even after walking all the way to the bus station, your hands were still numb, and the cold definitely wasn’t helping.

“How do you feel about the dance interviews now?” You found yourself asking Sumin as the two of you sat on the bench at the station waiting for the bus to come pick the two of you up.

Sumin beamed. “I definitely feel a bit more secure about conducting them. I’ll definitely need some help with dance terminology and editing and stuff though.”

You nodded. “No problem at all.”

“The people are all really so chill and nice…” Your eyes definitely weren’t tricking you when you saw the bashfulness that her expression took on, and the little giggle you heard could not have been the wind. “Especially Changmin.”

Ha. What.

A weight fell to the pit of your stomach. Maybe you were hearing things… “Sorry?”

She blinked, and the blush on her cheekbones darkened. “Oh, haha, it’s nothing! I just… he was really sweet, and he has a really pretty smile and stuff—do you—uh, do you know if his previous dance showcase performances are online?”

(Something about that detail—he has a really pretty smile—rang a bell for you.)

It was really an innocent question, but you knew if Sumin went searching online for Changmin, and if she went deep enough, she’d find you there, too. You sucked in a breath. “I can—” you winced inwardly, “—send you some of his performances, if you want?”

You couldn’t deny the warm and fuzzy feeling in your chest when Sumin practically lit up at your suggestion. “Would you? I would really appreciate it, Yn! You’re the best.”

From your periphery, you saw the bus approach from down the street, and you gestured for the both of you to stand up and get your ID cards ready to board. You sent her a small smile—at least it felt good to help her out. You could pretend for a second that this was just a little crush or infatuation on some other colleague of yours that Sumin had. “Yeah, no worries.” No worries at all.

EPISODE SIX: OFF THE [TOP OF YOUR] HEAD

FRIDAY night brought you, Seungkwan, and Doyoung to the hotpot place located in the university district. The three of you were the unconventional combination of your friends, but Kun and Ten were supposedly on their way over as of five minutes ago. Thus, with the last of your party nearing, the three of you deigned to begin ordering almost everything off the menu—just to whet your appetites, of course.

Doyoung slumped down in his seat across from you and Seungkwan as soon as the waiter left to input your table's hefty order. "Ugggggggh."

Seungkwan snorted. "Ah, my favorite sound."

Doyoung passed him a dirty look over his lenses. "Is that sarcasm I hear, Boo Seungkwan?"

"I have no idea what you mean," he said with feigned innocence as he looked away and scratched the side of his head.

You chuckled to yourself, drawing your phone out from the inner pocket of your puffer jacket when you heard the series of buzzes. Your screen lit up with notifications from Sumin, all of them thanking you profusely for the spam of links you'd sent her way. These were on top of the videos you had dug up from your secret locked folder in your phone—and here you were, wondering why in the world you were doing this to yourself and for her?

"I can't decide if I dread Doyoung's noises of discontent or your expressions of pain more," Seungkwan commented, effectively pulling your focus away from your phone.

Both of your friends were now looking at you, patiently awaiting your answer to what ailed you tonight. Where should you begin?

"I'm not in pain," you scoffed. You set your phone facedown on the table next to you to avoid looking at the notifications. Huh. "Did I look like I was in pain?"

Doyoung's smile was wide like his eyes as he nodded. "Yup," he chirped in that sweet sarcasm of his. "Like you'd just watched a video of someone stubbing their toe against a doorframe."

Seungkwan blinked. "That's so—specific."

"You do not want to know what my For You Page looks like—"

You recreated the look of pain from earlier, holding your palm up. "Respectfully, Doie? I don't."

Seungkwan let out another snort of delight and had to hold a hand in front of his mouth.

Doyoung leveled a half-hearted scowl at you. "You're lucky I'm not your boss right now."

"As opposed to every other moment in time?"

"You have a mouth on you tonight."

"I do like to use it every so often," you quipped, the corner of your mouth lifting in an amused smirk.

Doyoung sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "I don't get paid enough for this."

"You're literally not getting paid at all—" Your words were sliced off at their end when you gasped—it was all a blur: a mass of reddish-brown hair, your phone snatched from right in front of you— "SEUNGKWAN!"

Seungkwan held his breath with an impish grin as he turned his back to you and shielded your phone from your attempts to get it back. "I just wanna see!" He said with a cackle. "Every time you've looked at your phone today, you looked like you wanted to fall into an abyss."

You glared at him, pulling away to cross your arms firmly over your chest. "You can't just steal my phone, dude!"

"What's so important on your phone anyway, Yn-ie?" Doyoung asked good naturedly, reaching for his glass of ice water. "You're usually not so attached to that thing."

Your lips snapped shut and you wondered if the heat creeping up to your face was obvious.

"You've been sending Changmin videos to Sumin?!" Seungkwan bursted out, his eyes so wide that you could see your reflection in his pupils. As you'd feared, Seungkwan still had his fingerprint registered into your phone from before (long story; don't ask), and had cracked the device open, as well as your most recently opened application—yours and Sumin's text messages.

You did nothing but stare at the table like you were getting war flashbacks, while Doyoung had even gotten up out of his seat to take a peek at your phone, too.

"I haven't even seen this video before," Seungkwan hissed as if you weren't right there.

You fixed them both with a stink eye, but at the same time, maybe this was for your benefit. They could help you without you actually asking for help—

Doyoung's face contorted into a laughable expression of shock (eyes wide, mouth wider, eyebrows pinched, nose wrinkled) as he viewed what Seungkwan had selected. "Oh my god. He's a child in this!"

"Actually he was a senior in high school—" You slapped a hand over your mouth. Whoops.

Both of their heads whipped over toward you. "I thought you deleted all your high school shit!" They chorused together. If it had been any other situation or context, you might have laughed at the hilarity if it all.

Instead, you averted your gaze, making a show of looking for the waiter or maybe even Kun or Ten. What was taking them so long anyway?

"Yn," Seungkwan addressed with a tone akin to that of a parent on the verge of lecturing their child, "what in the name of god are you sending Sumin and why?"

Helpless, you held both your palms up in a sheepish shrug. "The kid has a crush on him, and being the best mentor figure ever, I… did some compiling for her." You paused, "Now that I say it out loud, it does sound pretty stupid."

Doyoung returned to his seat. "Ya think?"

You wrinkled your nose at him. "Hey! Sometimes, some of us have bad nights and we wanna feel something." Out of context, this was a really suspicious conversation.

"Isn't this just you torturing yourself?"

Seungkwan slapped his hand against the table, and both you and Doyoung startled. "That's it! I'm calling for an intervention."

Your mouth parted open. "Right now?"

He deadpanned at you. "No, when Kun and Ten get here—of course, right now!"

You returned his deadpan expression. The adrenaline from all this back and forth was slowly fading, and what you were left with was something that felt like emptiness. So… now they knew.

Doyoung and Seungkwan exchanged looks with another from across the table, but it was the former who spoke first. "Why do you still have videos from back then, Yn-ie? I thought you told us you deleted them all?"

"I mean, we're not trying to be judgmental or anything," Seungkwan added firmly, but not unkindly, "they're your videos and photos, your past and memories, but… based on everything you've already told us before, wouldn't it be best to delete them?"

You didn't like the emptiness. The adrenaline had stripped you of energy and confidence when it faded. "I," you stammered, "I just… I couldn't bring myself to delete them." Your voice was quiet, almost inaudible compared to the liveliness of the hotpot shop around you and your friends. "I mean, how could I? Sometimes, I want to watch them and try to find the courage to say that I'm sorry first."

Yeah, you wanted to feel something. That "something" was actually a lot of things—courage, happiness, nostalgia, anger, melancholy, love, passion, pride. A life and childhood you had lost; who's fault was it but your own? You felt nothing short of pathetic.

Seungkwan frowned deeply, his eyes softening. He leaned forward and drew you into his embrace, his hold warm and comforting. "Oh, Yn. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have pried like that."

You wrapped your arms around him, eyes shuddering closed. "Yeah, you shouldn't have."

He grunted into your shoulder, a noise of defiance and attitude.

Doyoung had a similar expression of sympathy present on his face. You didn't often see something like that from him, but after years of friendship and working together, you'd begun to see a lot more of him. "I'm sorry too, Yn. It probably still hurts, and I know I was probably really insensitive when I asked you to introduce Sumin to the dance department—"

"Hey guys! Sorry we're late."

Everyone jolted at the sight of Kun and Ten arriving at your table. Kun sent Ten a sharp look along with a sharp jab with his elbow for interrupting. Kun shot you an apologetic look. "Sorry, we didn't interrupt anything, did we?"

You shook your head as Seungkwan pulled away. Doyoung and Seungkwan were both looking to you to make the decision of whether or not you would let Kun and Ten in on the prior conversation.

No, you didn't want to put a damper on dinner any longer. "Ah, no worries. We were just… discussing a couple work things. What took you guys so long?"

Luckily, no one (namely Ten) called you out and the two newcomers slid into their respective seats. Dinner would arrive soon, and you could fill your belly with something other than negative thoughts for once.

— ✶

boss bunny: hey, i didn't get a chance to say this earlier, but i'm so sorry for expecting u to introduce sumin to the dance dept

boss bunny: i didn't think at all abt how that might trigger u, and i still want u to know that u can back out whenever u feel uncomfortable. seriously.

your phone: it's okay, doyoung. i get it, i really do. and i promise that it didn't feel like u were forcing me or assuming that i would do it either

your phone: i knew it would probably trigger me like this too, but i kind of really wanted to be someone's mentor yk? it just… called to me ig

your phone: sounds kind of sad lol

boss bunny: nonono! not at all :( i understand that too

boss bunny: i admire ur strength, yn

your phone: DOIE 🥺

boss bunny: …okay love u and all, but let's not use that emoji yeah? T-T

your phone: okay wtv 🤧 now stop texting cuz ten is starting to realize ur not slick at this

boss bunny: AM TOO. >:(

— ✶

"He kept looking at his phone and then at you, like, every five seconds," Ten giggled, his shoulder absentmindedly brushing against yours as the two of you strolled side by side through the numbing cold night. Dinner had concluded just about half an hour ago, and while Kun ferried Doyoung and Seungkwan home, you and Ten decided to head down a few blocks to get milk tea and hang out.

You clapped your hands together in delight, your laughter lighting up the night. “That’s what I’m saying! He just wasn’t subtle about it and he kept arguing with me that he was.” You shook your head, tongue darting out to lick your lips, “It’s okay though. I think Dad Doyoung’s antics are charming.”

Ten grinned. “Dad Doyoung? I think he’s more of an uncle; ‘Dad’ is Kun’s title.”

“Fair enough.”

“Ayo, Ten!”

Both yours and Ten’s heads whipped upward at the sound of his name being called. You didn’t actually recognize the voice, but when you saw the lineup of four young men coming toward you from the opposite end of the street, you didn’t need to recognize it. Because, well, you recognized their faces.

Huh, you had been running into Changmin and his like a lot more often recently.

Heading straight for you was Changmin, Chanhee, Juyeon, and—you thought his name was Kevin. Kevin was the one who had called out to Ten, and he waved excitedly over to your friend. Based on Changmin’s not-so-subtle frown at Kevin, you could assume that this was not expected. Maybe he was going to advocate crossing the whole street to avoid you.

“Oh, hey Kev!” Ten greeted back cheerily, glancing at you beside him. “Do you know Kevin and Juyeon?”

You bobbed your head. “Briefly,” you replied. The two of your groups met in the middle, two blockades in the smack middle of the sidewalk. Impromptu meetups like this always seemed to end up clogging up the sidewalk for some reason.

After a swift greeting, Chanhee was already gesturing to the direction his group had already been headed in. “Hey, I’ll probably run up the street and get us a table. Haknyeonie says the tables fill up fast after eight o’clock.”

Juyeon perked up. “Oh, I’ll come with!”

Chanhee made eye contact with Changmin from across the group, and a silent form of communication passed between them. You watched this happen quietly, standing to the side with your hands tucked into your pockets while Ten and Kevin caught up from the last time they saw each other (apparently, it was a drawing and painting course from last quarter). However, instead of leaving with Chanhee and Juyeon, Changmin lingered with the three of you.

He naturally came to stand semi-close to you since he wasn’t exactly a part of the “drawing and painting” conversation. The frown from earlier had disappeared, though, and you didn’t know if you could call that a win or not.

Perhaps to you, the tension between the two of you was palpable. There were… far too many things up in the air at this moment, and it was nearly impossible for you to figure out just one thing to start with.

Plus, now was no time to get into all of that baggage. You needed to finish that intervention with Doyoung and Seungkwan before you could handle that kind of conversation—at least, that was what you would have preferred.

But for now, you found yourself clearing your throat and sparing him a glance. “Hey.”

Changmin’s eyes darted over to yours in ill-concealed surprise. “Hey.”

And that was that.

Luckily, Ten nor Kevin dragged on their conversation longer than it needed to be, and soon, you and Ten were passing by Kevin and Changmin as both parties went their separate ways. (You were going to pretend that you hadn’t looked back to watch Changmin walk away. Definitely not.)

“All good?” Ten asked, though, his voice was quieter than it had been before.

You could meet his eyes and nod. “Yeah.”

Ten followed up with an idle sort of humming noise, like he was one of those really loud computer fans (what in the world led you to think of that—?), “A few days ago, I kind of asked Changmin what the deal between the two of you was.”

“Oh?” Nervousness bubbled up the column of your throat. “What’d he say?”

He gave a shrug. “Something like a long-standing grudge.”

You let out a laugh that didn’t exactly sound like a laugh. “Well, I guess that’s one way to put it.” Was that how you would put it? In a way, that was what it was, but there was so much more to that, wasn’t there? Did Changmin think so little of what transpired between the two of you or was he just trying to deflect Ten’s interrogation?

The two of you had arrived at the tea shop by now, and Ten opened the door for you. The shop’s insides were warm and bright, and the tables were already filled up with fellow students who decided to hang out with friends on their Friday evening. You and Ten shifted over to the self-order kiosks to the side of the room and continued your conversation in low volumes.

“How would you put it then?” He asked. When you looked over at him, you realized that there was something scarily disarming about his eyes. “No pressure, of course. I mean, you can call me out on being nosy whenever; I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

You pursed your lips as you turned back to the screen to absentmindedly swipe down the page to find your preferred order. On the inside, you fought for the right words. “Changmin and I were best friends since we were kids,” you started, inputting your preferred level of sugar and ice like clockwork, “and we met through dance.”

Ten nodded to signal he was still listening, and the two of you swapped places so he could input his order.

You cracked your knuckles and rubbed your palms together to generate some kind of heat between them. “I didn’t really like dance at first. It was just one of those things my parents put me in to occupy my time after school and while they were working. But… well, you know how Changmin is with dance—it was and is his livelihood.”

“Even then?”

A nod. “Even then.”

When your orders were paid for, the two of you moved to a quiet corner of the shop to wait for your number to be called from the counter. You leaned your side against the wall next to Ten, your eyes staring blankly at a crack in the floor. “He was actually the reason I grew to love dancing,” you confessed. “As we got older and went into high school, sneaking out to practice together and performing together on stage became as easy as breathing air and as normal as…” You shook your head. “It was just a lot easier I think, back then.”

Ten tilted his chin toward you. “What happened between you two, Yn?”

You swallowed roughly. “In my first year of high school, my parents got divorced. I always suspected it would happen, but my mom kind of changed after that.” Your eyebrows crinkled as you recalled the memories of your early teenage years and tried to grapple with an adequate way to express them aloud. “And, to be fair, the more I danced, the more I didn’t want to focus on school work, but my mom became really hard on me about all that and I started to crack down on that stuff.

“Eventually, she got tired of taking me to dance practices and shows, and she blew up at me about how useless dance was going to be if I was going to become a doctor or something like that.”

Ten heard your number being called and nudged you to follow after him. He handed you your drink, and the two of you pushed back out into the chilly night. You didn’t really know where you were trying to go, but you didn’t really care. You both ended up in one of the small parking lots squeezed between two fast food restaurants, and you sat yourself down on the curb.

You continued, “And so, she would purposely forget to come home in time to take me to competitions and rehearsals. By the time I realized she wasn’t coming, I was already late every time. I would start walking myself there and taking the bus instead. Changmin started noticing that I was slacking, but I…”

“He didn’t know?”

“No.” You didn’t want him to know. Maybe it was your stupid pride that was preventing you from admitting that aloud. Maybe you were ashamed that your mom wasn't as accepting of dance as his parents were. You let out a shuddering breath and watched it come out in a visible puff in front of your face. “She made me grow spiteful toward dance,” you said stiffly. “I would be trying to stretch or practice movement in my bedroom while studying for exams, and she would come in and berate me.”

The yelling echoed in your mind, all too vividly. Your mother never physically hurt you, but there were still scars. “She’d discourage me from rehearsals or signing up for competitions by telling me I was nowhere near good enough, that dancing wasn’t going to put food on the table, and that I was—” A complete disappointment. You could pick those exact words out of a line up.

Ten’s eyes glistened with silver in the amber glow of the streetlight above you. “Jesus, Yn. I’m so sorry; that’s—that’s awful.”

You didn’t know how to accept the sympathy, even after having received so much from your other friends already. No matter how many times you retold your story, it was never quite right or in the way your brain wanted to portray it. You didn’t want to portray anyone as the villain; you figured that maybe you could have done something back then to prevent this. (You couldn’t have, actually, and that was the most difficult part to accept.)

“Yeah,” you murmured, setting your drink on the ground as you curled in on yourself slightly. “Anyway, by senior year, Changmin was obviously really into dance and was probably really stressed about auditions and end-of-the-year competitions. We basically… we basically took out our anger on each other. He said some things, I said some things. The rest is history.”

It was quiet for a moment as you let the words sink into the open air. Your chest loosened a bit after being able to tell another person about it, but for the most part, your hands still trembled. You reached for your drink again to take a sip and to force some kind of liquid down your throat.

After a while, Ten piped up, “Yn… I hope you know that you are not whoever your mother was trying to make you believe you were. You’ve probably realized that already—or maybe you’re still working on it—but please know that you’re probably one of the strongest people I know. It must have been really hard for you and I…” He exhaled, “Sorry, I’ve never been great at this.”

You sent him a small smile in return. “It’s okay; I still appreciate it.” After a beat, you added, “I know I act like I hate him, but I still want to see him succeed. I can’t think that ill of him, especially when he wasn’t the only one at fault.”

“Ah, that’s why ‘it’s complicated’, huh? I get that.”

“Yeah.” Your hands—god, if they could just stop shaking—

Ten reached over and covered your hands with one of his, and you let the heat of his palm warm yours. “You’re doing great, Yn. You know that, right?”

You couldn’t choke out an answer to that. You could only really say, “I just miss him sometimes.”

A sad smile. “I know. Maybe he does, too.”

You wanted to laugh, or maybe cry, at that. Anyone who got in the way of Changmin’s passions was no one to him. You would know exactly how that felt.

EPISODE SEVEN: [ROLLS RIGHT] OFF THE TONGUE

WHENEVER Changmin was feeling unsure of himself, he would retreat to his safe space: the practice rooms. Even if it was some time in the ungodly morning, like 2am as it was now, he would make the trek beneath molten gold streetlights and barren cobbled streets. It was the one place where he could focus his energy solely on dance, and forget about everything else.

Once upon a time, it had been your safe space just as much as it was his.

Changmin huffed a sigh as he hiked up the remaining flight of stone stairs that led up to the backdoor area of the performing arts building. It was a handful of hours since he and Chanhee parted ways with Kevin and Juyeon after enjoying dinner together. Chanhee was probably dead asleep by now—he was probably going to wake up and continue studying for his exams anyway.

As he turned to his right, his breath hitched as he caught sight of someone standing right outside the door. Usually, he had no trouble getting in and security wasn’t exactly strict in this area of campus. In fact, he almost never bumped into anyone, as strange as it sounded. Maybe he should have counted his blessings.

But then he recognized your jacket from earlier this evening, the very same one you were wearing while walking next to Ten—practically squished up against each other, two peas in a pod. He didn’t like how irked he was by that detail. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you had said “hey” first.

You weren’t looking at him, rather, your body was completely turned toward the door as if you were trying to decide whether or not you should go in. You were as still as a statue, frozen in time.

The moment, however, faded as quickly as it had come. You must have sensed his presence, and your head whipped around to face him.

There.

His heart leapt into his throat—dear god, why did you look so afraid? And then he noticed that you weren’t frozen still, but rather, channeling all your energy into keeping your body from trembling. Were you cold? What were you doing here so late? Why weren’t you with Ten?

He watched your throat move as you gulped. And then you were walking toward him—no, past him—wait, come back— “So that’s it?”

The grip he had on his duffle bag strap tightened when you stopped next to him just as you were going to walk past him toward the stairs. Your gazes clashed like a pair of twin lightning bolts slicing through the night sky. There had always been a sort of energy between the two of you, and when you were young, he had been so very attracted to that kind of power, one so similar to his… he didn’t think he was mistaken back then.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You said, still there. Your voice was low, but he could detect the edge.

He didn’t know what it was supposed to mean; he just didn’t want you to leave without knowing why you were here. Were you looking for him? “You’re not gonna say anything to me? Why are you here?”

(He swore it wasn’t supposed to come out that brusque-sounding, but he also didn’t know what it was supposed to come out sounding like…? He felt like he didn’t know you anymore.)

There was a narrowing of your eyes, and you both angled your bodies to face one another like a standoff. “No one said I had anything to say to you. And I—” You tripped over your words, “—I don’t know why I’m here. That’s why I was leaving.”

Oh.

Why was he disappointed by that answer?

“So you’re not here with Ten or something?” He asked, unsure what else he could say to keep you here, even for just a couple seconds longer.

Your mouth curled. "Clearly not. Why are you so pressed about me and Ten?"

Changmin pressed his lips together. "I'm not." Okay. Very believable.

The face you made said the same thing. "Okay, yeah. I didn't expect you to care so much anyway."

For a reason he loathed to admit, anger spiked in his blood and he felt the distinct need to defend himself. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," you replied sarcastically, your volume rising, "maybe it's that you've never really cared that much about things that concerned me in the first place?"

"Now that's rich coming from you."

Your glare pierced his. "Oh, please. As soon as I started slacking—god, it took so little for you to just abandon me."

His jaw fell slack. Where the fuck did this conversation just turn to? "Abandon you? You abandoned me!" He exclaimed, finger flicking between the two of you as if he could impale both of your chests with the sharp edge of his accusations.

"How could I have possibly been the one to abandon you?" Your face contorted with so much more emotion than Changmin had ever seen from you over the past three years. Suddenly, he could see the underlying desperation and devastation hidden beneath the lines of bitterness and anger. His heart sank, but his blood still boiled and pumped. He couldn't get the distinctly awful hole in his chest to stop aching. He could remember exactly when you just stopped coming to practice with him. He could remember exactly the day he gave up hope.

"You—" you stammered, your hand flying to your throat. It was the same action he had seen from you just a few days ago while you were in the practice room. He recognized it as a habit of yours for when you were anxious or overwhelmed because your throat closed in on itself. If that wasn't enough to make him want to lay down his sword… "—you stopped caring. When did you stop caring? I just want to know."

Everything went silent for him, just for a split second. You thought… you thought he stopped caring? How could he ever stop caring about you? Wasn't that why he was so upset in the first place?

And when the world zapped back into play, he was sure his skin was ashen. His throat bobbed. "How could you think so little of me?"

Your forehead creased. "Little? Changmin, you were everything to me."

Dear heart—

You were shaking your head and taking a step away from him then. "You couldn't possibly understand."

Just like that, there was fire in his veins again. "That's because you never gave me a chance to understand!"

You threw a look back at him and again, he could read everything there like an open book, so much unlike the wall he had been met with all this time. "And I can say the exact same thing about you. If you think I kept things from you, Ji Changmin—" you said with the undertone of a snarl, so fierce that, as you turned on your foot to face him again, your breath came out like that of a dragon's smoke, "—then how much have you kept from me?"

His nostrils flared and his hands gestured wildly, vaguely—he pressed his palms to his eyes with a haggard sigh. "Why are you here, Yn?" He asked again, finally. He lowered his hands and took a step toward you. "Are you here just to pick a fight with me?"

You paused.

He watched you open your mouth, then close it.

You pursed your lips, finally murmuring, "No. I didn't come here for you."

For some reason, that hurt even more.

— ✶

The practice room was colder than it usually was.

Changmin kept the lights dim for the sake of his stinging eyes, and he dumped his duffle bag in the corner of the room before making a beeline for the aux cord for the speaker system. He hooked up his phone and opened up his music files, his forehead pressing against the cool mirror wall.

For a moment, he simply let his eyes flutter shut and his lungs to breathe.

You were long gone by now, and Changmin considered just going back to his apartment, but he knew he would just lie in bed awake for hours if he did.

When he opened his eyes, he swiped out of his music and instead went to a file kept deep down in the depths of his storage. He had purposely named it so it would remain at the absolute bottom of the list when alphabetized, and the pass code on it was supposed to dissuade him from accessing it.

Supposed to.

He punched in the four digits of your birthday and the lock clicked open to reveal a hefty file of video after video. There were photos of you, too, somewhere, but the videos were all at the top of the file because of their size. He didn't know what he was gonna do when his phone ran out of storage; he figured that when that day came, it would either be when you and he finally figured shit out, or he got closure and could delete them all.

He sighed.

His thumb hovered over one of the video files near the top, one where he could see your face in the thumbnail.

When he opened it, his younger face filled the screen. His tongue poked out from his lips as he carefully settled his phone against the wall next to yours as both of your phones recorded the run-through that was about to happen.

"Changminnie! Come on, I'm starting the song!" Your voice echoed against the practice room walls, and his laughter soon followed as he scurried into place next to you.

Changmin watched his younger self transform his expression into something more serious, while you had looked at him through the mirror and burst out laughing.

Younger Changmin broke his facade, the dimples in his cheeks deep, his smile bright. "What?"

You grinned back at him. "Sorry, sorry! Nothing; it's just interesting how you can just shift your facial expression like that."

"You have to practice like you perform though!"

"I know, I know. I just like your smile better, y'know?"

Changmin could see the hearts in his younger self's eyes. Jesus, had he really blushed that hard? Younger Changmin cupped the back of his neck bashfully. "Really?"

You punched his arm playfully. "Yeah. It's really pretty, Changmin. I thought I told you this before."

"Well yeah, but it doesn't hurt to hear it again—yah! Hey, I can bite back, you know—!"

Changmin's eyes shuddered as the familiar melody of the song flowed into his ears. He abruptly slammed his thumb down onto the pause button.

No, he couldn't stomach hearing it. Not when he could recall every move from memory and not when he had no partner to complement those moves. It just reminded him of the gaping hole in his chest and the emptiness of this room.

"Let's get to work, Changmin," he muttered to himself as he swiped out of the folder and back to his music files. He had an actual to-do list in mind, after all, and it did not include a dive into the forbidden folder. (No matter how much he needed to hear your voice again, for once, not arguing with him.)

EPISODE EIGHT: OFF THE HOOK

"HE'S been pissy all morning—"

Changmin suppressed a groan of frustration as he heard his friend's voices nearing the dressing room he was in. All morning, the performing arts building had been a madhouse, even worse than the night of the draft showcase. Everyone just decided to be here today, whether they were his fellow dancers trying to score a practice room, one of the prospective actors auditioning for a part in Hyunjae's best friend's thesis play, or one of the tech members trying to make sure everything worked behind the scenes.

Changmin had gone from room to room in an attempt to find an empty one where he could have some peace in working on his own. He would have just gone home at this point, but Chanhee was stressing over his own exams, so Changmin was stuck here.

So taking all of that into account, including the rough encounter he'd had with you a couple days ago, plus a lack of sleep and coffee—not the happiest squirrel on campus.

(How could you just drop a bomb like "You were everything to me, Changmin" in his lap and expect him not to think of anything else for days on end?)

The door to the dressing room he was hiding in cracked open, and all of the cacophony from the outside flooded in, as well as a crush of his friends.

"Don't you guys have class?" Changmin moaned, his hand coming up to rub his sleep-deprived eyes.

"Well, yeah, but this is much more fun," came Younghoon's teasing chuckle as he walked over to Changmin and clasped a hand on his shoulder.

Changmin made a face. "I just wanted some peace and quiet."

Sunwoo scoffed. "Peace and quiet? You've come to the wrong place, hyung."

"Yeah," Hyunjae added on, "might as well take a break for once and come watch auditions with us! HJ!Yn needs help judging people anyway."

Changmin cocked a brow at the blond. "You should call Chanhee for that then. Shouldn't you be out there, Younghoon?" He nodded toward the tall, lanky drama major present.

Younghoon shook his head, bouncing on the balls of his feet. How did he have so much energy? "Nope. I'm auditioning for a part, so she's gatekeeping me from watching."

Changmin turned from his friends slightly as he reached down for his phone that he had situated on top of the small bluetooth speaker he had the good sense to bring. Then again, maybe he should have just stuck to earbuds… whatever. He was too tired to care. Part of him wanted to add to the chaos anyway.

"What's her thesis play about again?" He asked no one in particular. Sunwoo waddled over to him and stole his phone right from his hands and began browsing through the music selection.

"It's a modern take of one of Shakespeare's plays: Much Ado About Nothing," answered Younghoon. "It was really funny actually, like the original play. Lots of matchmaking, lots of stupidity. I think they dump someone in a lake..."

Hyunjae perked up. "Oh yeah! That was probably my favorite part of the whole script."

Changmin chuckled. "I was expecting you to say something like 'the whole thing's my favorite because my best friend wrote it'."

"Oh, no, that still applies."

Changmin, Sunwoo, and Younghoon all exchanged knowing looks with one another. Mhm… so they thought. There were a few too many in their friend group who had interesting relationships with their other friends. Exhibit A: whatever the fuck was happening with Hyunjae and his.

Hyunjae caught their silent communication and furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

Sunwoo snorted, but Younghoon was the one to drawl, "It's absolutely nothing."

Changmin pressed his lips into a cheeky smile, brushing the bangs from out of his vision. Hyunjae's lips quirked to the side in a frown, but didn't make any comment on it. It wasn't a new reaction from the group, by any means, but… oh well. That would be a tale for another time.

With that being said, Changmin followed the three of them out of the relative privacy of the dressing room and out into the hustle-bustle of the main backstage corridor. As soon as that dressing room was vacated, however, somebody was swift to occupy it. Changmin cursed inwardly; guess he wouldn't be able to come back to that room later.

With the switching of theater leadership over the past year (a changing of the guard, if you would, but with professors and sponsors), the management of the entire performing arts department was a mess and a half. There were a few stand-out graduate students and undergraduates who were keeping everything in check for all of the events happening over this year—like Hyunjae’s best friend, Lee Jihoon (a graduate student specializing in sound and music production), and Moon Taeil (a graduate who was a soloist in the chamber choir).

As the four young men made their way closer to the immediate backstage, the sound miraculously dulled down. The lights were a lot dimmer here, as the spotlights were turned toward the main stage. Changmin spotted a few people scattered throughout the backstage area with phones or folded script packets in their hands as they recited their lines to themselves, with some even making exaggerated facial expressions and grand hand gestures.

Hyunjae’s best friend was one of the up and coming director-screenwriter “prodigies” that the drama department championed. She was a year older than Changmin was, and he didn’t need to be a genius to know that there were a crowd of people vying for a role in her graduating thesis play. It must have been stressful as fuck, but he knew that she had a good head on her shoulders—

“—I’m gonna stop you right there.”

HJ!Yn’s voice resounded from the other side of the hefty velvet curtains separating the backstage from the main stage. Hyunjae made a show of pressing his index finger to his lips to signal his friends to be quiet—Sunwoo thus made a show of rolling his eyes (“Duh, we’re gonna be quiet.”). They all huddled to the side of the curtain and poked their heads out to see what was going on.

The university performing arts hall was likely one of the most magnificent places on campus. It featured a vast array of floor seating, while also boasting three levels of balcony seats. Changmin remembered once briefly learning the anatomy of the theater seating: the floor or nosebleeds, the slightly lofted box seats, the grand circle, loge circle, and upper circle—the gods. It was all very antiquarian, but it was a place Changmin had become quite familiar with over the years.

The director herself sat in the dimmed nosebleeds section, in the smack middle. Someone had dragged out one of those plastic, foldable tables for her to set her paperwork and a small, battery-operated lamp on top of.

Curiously, sitting next to her was none other than Bae Sumin, your new recruit.

Changmin straightened, accidentally bumping into Younghoon’s shoulder as he did. “Sorry,” he whispered.

Younghoon shook his head to say that it was all good, his hand lifted in acknowledgement.

“Did you know Sumin was here?” He asked his friend.

Younghoon’s expression was thoughtful. “I think so? I left to go find you when I thought I heard someone say they saw her come in. Why? Did she not tell you when the dance department interviews were gonna be held?”

Changmin recalled receiving no notice. “No. I—I figured Yn would be here, too, then. Right?” Was he ready to face you again so soon? Would you even acknowledge him this time—?

Younghoon passed him an amused glance with a small smile fitted over his face. “That would make sense,” he murmured with his arms crossed over his chest. One of his hands reached up to idly massage his jaw. “I’d imagine she would be with her friends, somewhere around here. Though, it would also make sense that she would be sitting with Sumin, too. Then again—”

“You are… no help,” Changmin deadpanned.

His friend chuckled lowly, eyes upturned into slim crescents.

“Uh Jihoon-ah?”

Changmin and Younghoon’s attention flitted over towards the far side of the backstage and they watched as a girl chased after the resident sound producer graduate student. He was, perhaps, smaller than one might anticipate from the intimidating man, but he still harbored so much scary energy and talent within his body. Like all of the staff on the technical team, the pair were clad in all black.

Jihoon glanced up from his clipboard and at the girl. “Hm?”

The girl nodded toward the curtains. “Director is calling for a break and is asking if the house lights can be turned on.”

“Ah okay, come on then. Follow me.”

As the two of them strode across the length of the backstage, the girl’s eyes found Changmin and Younghoon, and… She was looking past him now at someone else. She lifted her hand in a small wave, paired with a smile, “Hi, Sunwoo.”

Changmin whipped his head around, only to realize that Hyunjae had disappeared, but Sunwoo was now standing on Changmin’s other side. He watched in utter delight as his younger friend flushed, even in the dim lighting, at the girl’s greeting. His eyes were wide as he squeaked out a quick, “Hey!” in return.

When Jihoon and his charge had gone out of view, Changmin turned on Sunwoo with a hyena cackle. “Oh my god! Who was that, Kim Sunwoo?”

Sunwoo seemed to shrink into the collar of his hoodie. “No one.”

Changmin’s laughter lit up the room just as the house lights thunk-thunk-thunk’d to life. Younghoon had slipped away, most likely to meet Hyunjae in the nosebleeds, which left only the two of them there alone. “Do you have a crush on her?”

“Yah! You’re such a menace,” Sunwoo groaned, whacking Changmin with the extra length of his sweater paw. “You can’t even talk, dude! You’re in love with a girl who can barely stand to be in the same room—” Sunwoo realized his slip up and slapped a palm over his mouth.

Ouch. The truth hurt, didn’t it? Changmin chuckled, though it was noticeably quieter now. “Well, you’re not wrong—” He shook his head, eyebrows creased together, “—wait, no. Wait, I’m not in love with her!”

Sunwoo rolled his eyes so hard he must have seen his brain up there. “Oh, please. The last time you were drunk and emotional, you showed us that secret little folder in your phone.” He jabbed his finger accusingly at the phone in Changmin’s hand.

Changmin scowled, pressing his phone to his chest as if to protect it in case Sunwoo decided to have wandering hands. “That was told to you in confidence!”

“No, it was told to me in a drunken stupor—” The two of them began to make their way back toward the edge of the curtain, ducking out from its shadow and onto the main stage. Hyunjae and Younghoon were indeed in the nosebleeds now, but Sumin was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she had only been here to observe the audition process. “And you guys say I’m the lightweight.”

“That’s because you are the lightweight.”

Just as the two of them hopped down from the stage and onto the ground floor of seats, Juyeon came in from the doors located at the back of the seats. He raised a hand in greeting to all present, cheerfully waving with that golden retriever-esque grin. “Hey guys! Oh, Changminnie, I was just looking for you.”

Changmin’s eyebrows flew up. “Oh? What’s up, Juyeon?”

Sunwoo retreated into the rows up where Hyunjae and Younghoon were, while Changmin met up with Juyeon in the rightmost aisle.

Juyeon threw a thumb behind him toward the direction he had just come from. “Sumin was asking if you would be willing to do your interview right now.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Right now?”

“That’s what I just said, wasn’t it?”

Changmin pressed his lips together, before nodding. “Uh, for sure. Yeah, lead the way.”

The two dancers hiked their way back up to the back of the area and through the door Juyeon had originally entered through. The main lobby was much less crowded—it was practically barren, which made it the perfect environment to conduct an interview in. Sumin was setting herself up at one of the couches, setting her laptop, phone, and coffee cup on the coffee table opposite to her.

She raised her head when she heard the door open and close, and a bright smile graced her features. “Oh, you found him! Thanks, Juyeonie.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he chirped. “I’ve got a couple things to handle first, but just ask someone to come find me once you and Changmin are done.”

With Juyeon swiftly taking his leave, Changmin was left to take a seat on the other end of the couch that Sumin was sitting at. “Hey, nice to see you again, Sumin,” he said, crossing one ankle over the other and resting his arm along the back of the couch.

The corners of her smile widened. “Nice to see you, too, Changmin! Sorry this was so sudden; I figured that I could get started on some of the interviews while I was here.”

“Oh, yeah, no worries,” he chuckled.

She reached for her phone, fidgeting as she swiped to a simple recording application. “I hope you don’t mind me recording this…?” At his consent, she nodded. “Okay, cool. I did wanna say something before we started.”

He sat up just a bit. “What is it?”

There was a sort of twinkle in her eyes, and if he wasn’t mistaken, her manner became a lot more bashful all of a sudden. “I have to confess that I asked my mentor, Yn, if she could send me some of your dance performance videos and I’m literally in awe of your talent. Like, I wanted to tell you how starstruck I am just being able to tell you this right now, but I just wanted to say this before we started.”

He broke into a boyish grin at this, his dimples becoming craters of joy in the apples of his cheeks. “Ah, thank you—that really means a lot,” he smiled.

Sumin added on, one of her palms pressing against the couch cushion as she leaned toward him slightly, “I mean, I don’t even know how Yn was able to find videos of you from high school, but I’m so glad she did, because—”

Wait what. Changmin was watching Sumin’s mouth move as she talked but he wasn’t truly hearing what she said. His humble, albeit a bit dumbfounded, smile remained, but her words from just before resonated in his head. There were definitely a few of his dance performance videos online from his high school days, but did you keep links to them? Did you keep the recordings on your phone?

The fact that Sumin asked you meant that she probably had no clue about your past, only that you were the person Sumin could rely on if she had any questions.

What did it mean? What did it mean?

His heart pounded in his chest at the thought that maybe he could possibly have an excuse to get you to talk to him, even if it was one, truly dumbass excuse.

“—ready?”

Changmin snapped out of his dazed state. “Sorry?”

Sumin blushed slightly, clearing her throat. At some point, she had pulled her laptop onto her lap and prepped her phone by placing it in between the two of them to record the following conversation. “Are you ready to start?”

He coughed, straightening and adjusting his position. “Oh, yeah—uh, sorry. Yeah, whenever you’re ready.”

Sumin gauged his reaction carefully, but instead of pressing the record button, she hit the power button. “If I may, you seem a little distracted. I don’t really want this to feel like a burden if you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

Shit. “No, I mean,” he shook his head, “I’m sorry. I guess my mind just wanders really easily when…” He huffed a sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m a little tired, that’s all.”

“I totally get that,” she sympathized. “You’ve probably been practicing non-stop lately for the winter showcase. We don’t have to do this today if you’re not in the right headspace.”

He sighed and couldn’t help but feel just a little relieved. He needed to talk to Chanhee about this, math exam or dance practice be damned. But there was a part of him that definitely felt awful about having to cut off her interview even before it began. He gestured to her phone. “How about we reschedule? We could meet up sometime else during the week to redo this and I promise I’ll be all yours.”

He didn’t know what he did, but the pink on her cheeks deepened to a cherry red. “Oh, uh, sure!” She giggled, taking her phone and passing it over to him. “You can just put your phone number in there and I’ll text you to ask when you wanna meet up.”

Changmin nodded his agreement and swiftly inputted his contact information into the given slots. “Definitely,” he said before handing her phone back to her. The phone fumbled between the two of them, but Changmin was already standing up with the goal to go retrieve his bag (wherever it was), and to go consult Chanhee and the man’s infinitesimal opinions. “Really sorry again, Sumin.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it!” She dismissed his worries with a flick of her wrist. “Would you mind finding Juyeon, though?”

Changmin sent her a thumb’s up over his shoulder on his way to the door. “Yeah, for sure.”

She returned the gesture, watching as he disappeared out of the main lobby. It was only when he was definitely gone, she covered her mouth with her hand and stared at his saved contact in her phone. Then, with a silent scream of happiness, she ran to her text chain with you to tell you all about it.

a/n: PLS STILL REBLOG THIS PART EVEN THO ITS NOT THE FULL THING PLS PLS PLS IM BEGGING

read part two here (also linked at top)

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miz-orque · 7 months

Text

Long Post

Sooo here's my silly little Monsoon concept in the Cyberpunk universe. This took some time, but I had a lot of fun doing it. You'll find a few things repeated on paper as my thought process was a little all over the place. The notes and layout on the pages may be a little unorganised. What's written on paper is reflected in the text, plus extra.

Yeah, this is longer than I thought lol so it's really appreciated if you do take the time to read it. I think I went a little ham 👀;

Apologies for image quality. I still have yet to get a scanner.

Cyberpunk!Monsoon.

General info

Typically, I would fashion him in: an Edgerunner's jacket (which is generally a mix of military armour and pedestrian materials woven together (this jacket is the Valentinos dual-weave Edgerunner)), simple black yoros and yoru no samurai kicks - the last two items being reminiscent of his ninja design in his canon universe. His utility belt and sais are also kept the same, tho the end of the sai's pommel glows when in use for combat.

He has a multitude of implants and cybernetics which include:

Memory boost - optimises sync between the brain and cyberware. An additional neuro chip implanted in his frontal lobe allows him full control of his unique cybernetic arms, including detaching and reattaching his arms, and control of his hands if they are several metres away when detached.

Self-ice - prevents him from getting a neuro virus.

Kerenzikov boost system - essentially a reflex booster

Custom Kiroshi optics: the Oracle (more details of this later)

(outdated) magnetic segmented cybernetic arms where each segment has a neuro link for full control (more details of this later)

Second heart - if his current heart stops beating, the second one activates.

Adrenal boosters - helps body maintain performance under pressure (in game stats detail less stamina usage when engaging in melee)

Micro rotors - increases attack speed

Adreno-trigger - increases attack speed for several seconds whe entering combat

Synaptic accelerator - a neuroprocessor that regulates hormonal balance during threatening situations (in game time is perceived slower for a few seconds when in combat. This implant can be used repeatedly after a 60 second cool down, but he's not looking to have a fight for longer than a minute)

Sub-dermal armour - exactly as it sounds - armour beneath the skin. He has this installed on his neck, torso, back and legs (before they were replaced)

Proxi-shield - the closer an attacking enemy is, the less damage they deal

Bionic joints (eventually replaced) - support of joints. He had this in his legs.

Dense marrow (eventually replaced) - increased power behind melee attacks. He had this in his legs

Dermal implant of a Tyger Claw tattoo - This implant directly links the user's optical implant to the weapon's system, offering real-time data-tracking of the weapon info - he only has this because he was a member of Tyger Claws for a few years, but he decided to keep it as he found it useful and for sentimental reasons

Fortified ankles (eventually replaced) - allows for greater distance covered when jumping

Iron lungs - is able to take in and utilise more oxygen. This was useful when he had his organic legs. This cybernetic has become rather redundant to him now that he's more metal than meat, tho he finds it useful for when he's smoking, he doesn't cough, however they're due for a cleaning from his habit.

Blood pump - supplies body's cells quickly and efficiently with oxygen - again no longer required. He eventually gets this removed

Further info

In this canon, Monsoon has albinism. His original eyes were replaced at a young age due to his poor vision and he received dermal implants to protect his sensitive skin from UV radiation.

Originally, his cyber optics were designed after his real eyes. These were standard optics that allowed him to see as the average person. The eyes were later replaced with Kiroshi the Oracle optics when he was recognised as a competent attack dog. These new eyes, however, were again based on his real eyes. He did not obtain his custom black and red optics until he joined Tyger Claws

The Oracle line allows the user to detect enemies (even under cover) within 17 m, turrets and cameras within 35 m and explosives and traps within 26 m, as well as 10x optical zoom in. He later got these functions upgraded when he opted to change their appearance. They were eye wateringly expensive.

The cyber threading on his face (the lines) are based on the veins surrounding his eyes in his original MGR concept art.

Likewise, the barcode on his forehead from his original concept, has been repurposed as evidence of being an unfortunate victim of human trafficking. Human trafficking exists across the globe in the Cyberpunk (CP) universe. The barcode that was tattooed on his forehead as a child was produced for the underground market to audit their stock. These markets are also owned by corporations who donate some of the profit made to charities (to look good to the general public), to law makers (for manipulation) and to crime syndicates (as pay).

As previously stated, Monsoon obtained custom black and red Kiroshi optics when he joined Tyger Claws. He thought they looked intimidating and cool. He was 15. And he still stands by this decision in his 40s. The black and red are also based on his MGR concept art.

For the record, Monsoon's unique eyes and visor in his original MGR concept design are some of my favourite things about him. Respectfully, these were omitted as I felt they didn't completely suit the environment I placed him in for this au. Sure, visors exist in CP, and of course there are characters like the Maelstrom group and even River (2077) that have robust optics, however:

Monsoon in this canon doesn't work as a corpo cyborg based in Denver with henchborgs under him; he is the henchborg and he's really fucking good at it

His visor holds his electromagnetic generator. In this canon, he doesn't have the ability to separate his entire body, just his arms. It would be redundant for him to have it unless he wears it for the aesthetics. I'm on team Practical Monsoon here so...

Maelstrom essentially believe in transhumanism. Monsoon does not believe in this (him becoming a cyborg in MGR is a consequence of him not wanting to die) and the glowing eyes would give his position away if he's being stealthy.

I think River's too broke to get a better looking eye lol. Monsoon may not be rolling in it, but at least he can afford eyes that provide wider perioral vision and allows him to blink his eyelids.

I just wanted to show off the emotions in his eyes. Can't do that if he's looking like: ⚫👃⚫ "I luv u"

I've designed him bulbous eyeball connecting visors that help increase his field of vision to act as his CP au visor. (A little on the fence with this)

Regarding his arms, their design is outdated. Further information will be provided later in the post, tho I thought I'd keep this here as this was used as reference for myself.

Ken doll Mons and his bs (backstory obvs)

Born in 2031 in Cambodia, Monsoon grew up in poverty. He was abducted as a young child and sold in the black market to an organised crime syndicate. Originally, he was going to be used as an actor for the growing extreme braindance (XBD) market, however, due to his aggressive and tenacious nature, he was taken to be trained as an attack dog instead.

Mention of a several years' mission is present, but this will be touched upon later. The two images are of Monsoon before and after this mission.

Pre-mission:

Most of his body is organic, tho he has a number of internal implants (as mentioned previously)

As stated, unlike his original canon design, the additional segments are omitted. Due to CP lore, and considering Monsoon's upbringing, he would have succumb to cyberpsychosis ages ago (would have gone on a spree like James Norris in Edgerunners). A super bog standard definition of cyberpsychos is a condition where the person dissociates from society when they have too many implants and not a great support system (if they even have one). (It's a theory that David's support system is the reason why his tolerance for something as extreme as his sandevistan was high). If the chassis was kept, I would have had to abide by this rule; Monsoon at this point would have been a slender version of Adam Smasher. (Not a bad idea, but that's literally what he is in MGR but with MG lore in place). Omitting his chassis meant that there was more freedom to explore the world of CP with Monsoon. Also I wanted to see him in sneakers.

Also, his design wouldn't suit the Night City (NC) environment. In his original canon, he's the only WoD member that isn't wearing a coat. In NC, he would need to be naked to fully utilise his abilities. Not to mention, the city itself being so busy, I feel as if his magnetism would cause some damage to certain technology, if his segments don't catch onto a vehicle or a building or a fellow cyborg's butt. If anything, reference of his original design (torso and legs) would be for cosmetic purposes.

Post-mission:

He lost his pelvis and legs during the mission

As he was out in the desert at the time of this incident, his legs were replaced with robust mechanical legs provided by a nomad ripperdoc.

His legs were later replaced with a sleeker and more modern design. He also got that Mr Studd installed 😉

His cyber legs also include reinforced tendons (can literally double jump/jump great heights), Jenkin's tendons (accelerates sprinting for a few seconds - recovery time is just as quick when he's not sprinting), fortified ankles (jump great distances) and lynx paws (quiet footsteps). These are to mimic some of the attributes he has in his original canon.

His cyber arms are eventually replaced with an upgraded and custom pair.

He has cyberpsychosis. Treatment includes therapy, medication and being around his support system regularly. Of course, due to the nature of his work, slaughter does help relieve the aggression he gets from his psychosis.

After being sold to an organised crime syndicate to become an XBD actor, his aggressive nature had them think he would be better suited as a protector. He was repurposed to become an attack dog. For fun, he was given a pair of sais to train with, tho his mentor was compassionate enough to train him well. Tho he was born in Cambodia and spent his early childhood there, he was migrated to Japan after being sold. He spent the rest of his childhood serving the Yakuza as their favoured attack dog. From 15, he was stationed at Night City, being a body guard for a high ranking Yakuza member, but he decided to join Tyger Claws instead.

Additional notes:

The crime syndicates involved are primarily a mix of Triad and Yakuza members, smaller groups and groups outside of Asia are also involved, taking advantage of the state of Cambodia (it's not great). Particular corps are also involved and it's rumoured the Khmer Rouge may also be poking their noses into this black market (they exist in the CP universe. Like in our real world history, they did have their influence, however they were expelled from Cambodia and ended up ruling over Laos in the turn of the 21st century) in hind sight, Monsoon was pretty lucky

He was sold at the age of five.

The XBD market involves things like murder, torture, sexual assault - basically any instance that involves very extreme negative emotions (and is obvs very illegal). Monsoon would have likely been put up for murder and maybe even have cyberpsychosis induced on him

The Yakuza viewed Monsoon as disposable, but thought to have him at least trained in fighting. When his teacher taught him how to use the sai (which he picked up quickly), the members he often interacted with saw his potential. On the field, Monsoon was aggressive.

He was named Monsoon because he was purchased during the season. The name stuck because of his extreme behaviours: eerily calm when he's not in a fight, frightfully violent when he is.

His first implant were his eyes. The following cybernetics were implanted on him without his knowledge ie he woke up one day with his hand replaced with a cybernetic one lol. He freaked

When he arrived in Night City, he offed the Yakuza member he was meant to protect and joined Tyger Claws swiftly after. It was rumoured that this particular was to be disposed of once a negotiation with affiliate groups was made. Monsoon didn't care and killed him anyway. He's never forgiven them for what they did to him.

Because of his upbringing, he speaks Japanese fluently. Being the favoured attack dog, he wasn't required to learn any additional languages, especially with the advent of the translator, however, he did take up learning English when he learned he was going to visit California for an unknown amount of time. Much to his chagrin of learning the common conversational sentences English, when he arrived at Night City, particularly Japantown, he was disappointed that everyone around him was speaking Japanese. That didn't stop him from actively learning tho. Unfortunately, he doesn't remember much Khmer if at all.

The crummy tattoo dermal implant on his back depicts Reahu, the demon king in Cambodian mythology. It's described to be a head without a body and devours the sun and moon, but because of its lack of body (and therefore stomach), it's a perpetual cycle of devouring these celestial bodies.

His stoic and serious nature proved him to be a valuable member to the Tyger Claw gang, getting some recognition from high ranking members, including a glance or two from the up-and-coming fixer, Wakako Okada. He was given a few private jobs, one of which awarded him his extraordinarily unique magnetic arms at around the age of 18. Tho his peers didn't care for the attention he received, a small group of Tyger Claws grew jealous of him, even denouncing him as a member for being an outsider.

During a mission out, the small group turned on him, disabling his arms and taking advantage of his shock. He did defend himself to the best of his abilities, however, he was outnumbered and beaten to near death. Before completely blacking out, he called Wakako.

Once recovered and his arms repaired, he left Tyger Claws and sought vengeance on those that tried to kill him. No longer a member, he happily attacks any member that so much as looks at him funny.

Additional notes:

His position in the gang would have been pretty much the same in his original canon. He did participate in some drug dealing and trafficking, however he enjoyed fighting the most.

He was out cold for a couple days when he was picked up by Wakako and taken care of by a doctor of her choosing

Monsoon was growing tired of the gang anyway and thought he would be successful if he left. The group that attacked him provided him a really good reason to leave

He wanted to remove the Tyger Claws tattoo on his back, but decided against it as he gave it a new meaning: continuously devouring the clan

It's an exaggeration to say that he attacks any TC member if they look at him funny. He attacks them if they touch him in any way, shape or form.

Despite the fact he was a member for about five years, he has never crossed paths with Jimmy. Jimmy was locked away being a cringe teenager editing edgy braindances and wearing black eyeliner.

Ze arms

Gifted his magnetic arms at 18, adapting to fully cybernetic arms was a challenge, especially with the unique ability to desegment at will. Tho they are rumoured to be of Arasaka make, his provider advised it was from an underground yet promising corporation.

Previous arms

Neural connection between brain, arms and segments.

Powerful electromagnetism, however best performed away from the busier parts of Night City

Electromagnetic generator located in shoulder joint.

Silicone connection inside and outside of elbow.

Upper half of arm matches skin tone. Forearms and hands are black (right) and red (left).

Palm and fingertips padded; sensors are quite sensitive

Range began at 10 metres, but increased to 15 when his arms were repaired

New and current arms

Possess the same elements as the previous arms, but with a sleek design

Arms are completely black apart from the left forearm and hand being red.

Generator hidden in shoulder

Fingertips have highly sensitive sensors

Edge of segments glow red when in use (when he gets his magnet on)

Carbon fibre material

Faster movement

Range is about 30 metres max.

Additional notes:

The arms are quite expensive. He has to visit a reputable doctor that is well educated in electromagnetics and whatever the fuck else his arms possess because they're pretty insane

It took him a good month to get used to using fully cybernetic arms and even long to actually master the use of its magnetic abilities. He would say about a year.

The underground corporation used both Arasaka and Militech to craft the arms. Monsoon's unknowingly a guinea pig, however he does eventually meet the people behind these.

Said people provided him with the new arms

He exclusively uses his magnetic abilities in combat. At least, that's what he says. Monsoon has used his abilities to get something out of reach, get something from another room, and trip Jimmy (when he didn't like him) - now he uses them to pull Jimmy towards him

Sundowner

Monsoon became a solo mercenary after he left Tyger Claws. Mainly working with Wakako, he would sometimes do gigs with other solos. More often than not, he would find himself working alongside this heavyweight merc, Sundowner. At first, he found him to be rather loud and obnoxious, but eventually he found him to be a worthy and competent ally to the point he's glad to see him in his group of mercs.

Additional notes:

They met for the first time during a meeting with a fixer at Tom's Diner. Monsoon mistook him for a patron as Sundowner was chowing down on a burger and commenting loudly about the music. He wasn't particularly excited to learn that he would be working alongside him for this mission

They only ever hang out at bars or eating establishments, and the occasional visit to a braindance club.

Okay, maybe sometimes they visit Dogtown for the thrill and chaos

Monsoon's been to Sundowner's humble abode once for bbq. It's in the Badlands

They once infiltrated a Scavs base because Sundowner thought one of them stole his keys to his truck. They killed them all. They did not find his keys because he suddenly remembered where they were kept.

They once got into a random scuffle with Sixth Street

And the Voodoo Boys

And the Valentinos

And the Animals

And Tyger Claws (Monsoon enjoyed that one)

All started by Sundowner.

Sundowner is gun heavy in this universe, only using Bloodlust when he wants to get messy, but keep his hands clean.

Of course, Sundowner has the Gorilla Arms cybernetic that grants him immense strength as well as the Reinforced Tendons implants

Coming from Alabama, Monsoon's not quite familiar with the terms Sundowner uses that isn't Night City lingo. Sometimes he uses his translator which isn't the most reliable due to Sundowner's accent. He did eventually grow accustomed to his way of speaking

Sundowner most definitely did partake in the Corporate War of 2069.

Sun became a fan of Jimmy's unnecessarily violent XBD edits

The above drawings are of them in their twenties

Legs and mission

The mission

At around 25 years old, Monsoon with Sundowner was given a secret gig by their mysterious fixer. Like most gigs, survival was not guaranteed, however, the payout for this gig was huge if they did survive. This gig involved them and a small group of other mercs, techies and netrunners to travel outside Night City across the country. The mission was so secretive, contact outside anything that did not revolve around the mission was forbidden, this meant that kin were left in the dark about the whereabouts of their loved ones.

The gig proved challenging; some members lost their lives. Monsoon almost lost his life being involved in an incident that had him lose the lower half of his body. He carried out the rest of the mission in a set of robust cybernetic legs that included storage for his stoma bags. The difficulty of this mission did solidify and strengthen his friendship with Sundowner.

After the mission, which ended up lasting five years, and of course receiving his massive payout, Monsoon got himself a new set of legs, a built in bladder, rectum and a Mr Studd (with Jimmy's assistance). He also developed cyberpsychosis which is handled by his medication, therapy sessions and time spent with loved ones.

Additional notes:

The payout was six digits

The mission itself was arduous. Flat lining tended to be the bulk of the mission, tho the men would argue it felt like an underground war. Really, it was corpo shit trying to keep governments outside of their business. Infiltration and assassination proved more difficult than initially thought, especially when theft of technologies was involved

Monsoon did find it difficult to not get in contact with the people he cared about during his gig. He obviously worried about Jimmy the most because he's a danger magnet. He forced him to get the Shock-n-Awe implant as a means of defence, but he also told Jimmy not to wait for him.

Monsoon's lower body was crushed by a massive structure that collapsed after a bomb went off.

He often wrapped cloth tightly around his abdomen to keep his storma attachments extra secure. The last time he didn't have that security, he dookied on Sundowner when he tried to parkour. They still laugh about it.

He lost his legs about two years into the mission

His psychosis developed rather quickly when his legs were swiftly replaced with robust cybernetic legs.

He was fully prepared for Jimmy to have moved on. Much to his surprise, he waited for him and started gaining immense success in his work.

He also learned he became a cat dad

Ze legs and pelvis

His replacement legs right after the accident were standard metal robotic legs that helped him get around, tho it hindered his athletic abilities. He was happy to have them finally replaced with a more competent model. These legs include:

Matching skin tone

Sensors included that allows him to detect pressure, temperature changes and pain

A faux butt with padding

A Mr Studd that acts similarly to a natural penis - of course he misses his real one, but he's glad he can pee out of this one and relieve sexual need. Special sensors in the phallus connected to a specific neural link allows him to feel aroused when stimulated and lead to an eventual climax, of course it's not the same as it once was. His sex drive is also quite low.

Faux testes included for aesthetic purposes - they look and feel almost like the real thing! 😃 A TRT device was considered to be included in his pair, but he opted to take injections whenever he wanted to. He doesn't think the lack of testosterone hinders his abilities to carry out his duties as a merc. Before he changed his legs, he wasn't on testosterone regularly.

Reinforced tendons, Jenkin's tendons and Lynx paws installed

Height increased from 6'2" to 6'5" - he had a high calorie and nutritional diet due to being trained as a fighter, however, that isn't to say he didn't receive painful procedures to increase his height to appear more intimidating

Has replacement organs with sensors

Artificial butthole works fine 👍 (don't lie, you were curious)

He takes rather strong immunoblockers

Additional notes:

Jimmy paid for some of the costs. He insisted.

Recovery was relatively quick, tho he had to take the time to get used to his new legs and make sure sensors worked well.

Jimmy's aware of Monsoon's cyberpsychosis. It kinda turns him on. And he loves to admit it.

....yeah Jimmy did select the junk to be Monsoon's replacement sausage

Khamsin

During a few of his gigs, he had Khamsin as his "wheels guy". His chatter and loud music gets on Monsoon's gears, but Sundowner like Khamsin, plus he's an excellent driver. Most of the time, Monsoon zones out when he's around Khamsin, but with enough drinks, he'll chuckle at a joke or two.

Additional notes:

Khamsin's truck looks better than how I drew it. I'm just bad at drawing vehicles

Khammy also has cybernetic legs

Mons doesn't hate him, but he wouldn't invite him to his place

Sometimes he gets taunt ideas from Khamsin

Mistral

Monsoon has been a well established solo when he met the young and snarky woman who goes by Mistral. Tho she's solo, she also dabbles in netrunning, proving her versatility. At first the two didn't get on so well. She taunted him about being an old fogie, and he retorted her about being a naïve and obnoxious little girl with pink hair, even tho their age difference is approximately 15 years.

Sundowner kept wanting her on the team despite the bickering as the group worked well together and he enjoyed her accent. When the group finally did decide to hang out together at a bar, Monsoon and Mistral bonded over their annoyance with Khamsin and their love for Jimmy. As the two got closer, Mistral gifted Monsoon a couple of sakura hair clips she won at a fair. He invited her to his place to see his cat.

Additional notes

Mistral's married to Courtney lol. Courtney's a corpo, but they hardy spend time together due to their work

Mistral's a fan of Jimmy's XBDs.

She's visited their place multiple times and has designated herself as their cat's aunt

Monsoon loves the hair clips, even tho he doesn't express this out loud

She's a gun user - I'm basing this off her time as a soldier, plus I'm not sure where her lance fits in the CP universe. The geckos would be more like her and Courtney's freak children than her tools

Monsoon does not like her freak children

Weirdly, her and Jimmy became good friends. They text each other on a regular basis

She also hangs out with the two if Courtney's busy with work

She playfully throws things at Monsoon. Monsoon draws on her face when she's netrunning

She came to Night City directly from Algeria. She misses the food there

Fighting

Monsoon's fighting style is more or less identical to the original canon moveset, save for his lack of magnetic segmented legs and torso. When he had his natural legs, he utilised reflex implants to boost speeds and force behind his kicks. Now that he has his cybernetic legs, he's even more dangerous in a fight. He has implants that increase his resistance to hacking. His arms can be disassembled by skilled hackers, a hell of a disadvantage if he's using his sais to attack from a distance. He carries a multitude of grenades with him which includes explosives, EMPs and smoke grenades.

Outfit

Monsoon dresses in kitsch style clothing. His wardrobe consists mainly of vests and short sleeves, and perhaps five pairs of bottoms. As he's often doing gig work (and beating up Tyger Claws), he favours no sleeves for their practically and ease of wear. He does own at least a handful of long sleeve shirts, bombers and hoodies which he wears on special occasions, such as when he doesn't want to use his magnetic abilities.

Additional notes

He owns a couple neokitsch style clothing (clothing that only the wealthy can afford) because Jimmy likes to spoil him. He only ever wears them when he's visiting Embers

Jimmy likes stealing his jackets and hoodies.

Monsoon on occasion wears Jimmy's jacket to feel like a villain - Jimmy doesn't take offence to this.

Monsoon wears his clothes until they fall apart. It annoys Jimmy because he knows he can afford new clothes.

He also hates going clothes shopping with Jimmy

Apartment

His apartment is located in Japantown, Westbrook of Night City. He keeps the apartment clean and free of clutter, the only decorations he has are books/magazines and a dragon statue that holds incense (came with the apartment). Eventually, his apartment transformed into a lively little abode when Jimmy entered his life. After becoming accustomed to the company, the apartment now includes horror movie posters, memory chips dotted everywhere, cute little momentos, cans of Spunky Monkey in the fridge, an additional toothbrush, additional clothes in the wardrobe, sex toys and numerous Polaroid photographs of the two.

Additional notes:

Sometimes they use each other's toothbrush by mistake

He has a plethora of plants. He likes nature. Jimmy's a little freaked out by the plants especially when they touch him

He doesn't smoke in the apartment

#Okay I think I'm done #I have been on this from the first page to the last bit of text for maybe a week and a half/couple of weeks?#I'm not quite sure how to even tag this if I even HAVE a specific tag for this #I'll use my usual tags for now #IT'S A LOOONG post of alt universe fan nonsense. I might even rejig some of the info later down the road if I'm still fixated #I advise you grab a snack #My art #cyberpunk au #mgr monsoon #mgr sundowner #mgr mistral #Mgr Khamsin #cyberpunk 2077 #I'm so tired #👁️👁️#nerd shit

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